Chapter 1
Looking back, things hadn't been desperate enough for me to resolve to die and hang myself.
It was simply a decision I'd made because I didn't know why I existed... what I wanted from this world, or what I should rely on to keep living.
I remember the day I first became a girl. The wind was especially strong that day, shaking even the window.
As if foretelling my future, the wind slammed against the window, and for some reason, it felt frightening.
When the full-length mirror by the window finally fell face-down, the sharp crash startled me awake.
I hadn't felt anything particularly wrong with my body.
After all, I hadn't made a sound, so I didn't know my voice had changed.
My field of vision seemed oddly low, but I thought it was just the usual disconnect between dreams and reality, so I didn't realize my appearance had changed.
My body felt weak, but since I'd stayed up looking at my phone until dawn and then fallen asleep, I thought that was only natural and didn't realize my body had changed, too.
It wasn't until I struggled to lift the full-length mirror lying face-down on the floor and set it upright that I could see my reflection.
The mirror, which did nothing but reflect light and show reality, was reflecting a tiny girl, its surface slightly cracked.
A mirror was just an object made of such materials, after all, not a machine assembled from parts, so it was strange to even call it broken.
A young man who'd lived pessimistically had become a tiny, adorable little girl.
'Am I dreaming right now?'
At first, of course, I doubted and denied it. I thought, What a strange dream, and dismissed it as nothing important.
I casually called my parents. If this was a dream, they'd probably take it in stride, too, and we'd be able to have a pleasant conversation.
I picked up my phone and opened my contacts, and only then did I realize this wasn't a dream.
Their numbers weren't there. I searched through my contacts, but there were no numbers saved under Mom or Dad, or Mother or Father.
I could vaguely remember a number, but it was from well over a decade ago, so there was no way they'd answer.
I was alone. Ever since the day the news reported a major pileup on the highway.
Only then did reality, which hadn't been there before, seep into every corner of my body.
It was as if my senses were gradually growing accustomed to being this little girl, syncing with the world.
At the same time, several worries and concerns came rushing into view.
'What am I supposed to do about work? How will I make money from now on? What about my resident registration number?'
Even if I went to my old workplace in this body, there was no way they'd believe me.
I didn't even know the exact cause myself, so how could I explain it to someone else?
Money was definitely a concern, too. Even though I'd saved up a little here and there, I had barely over three million won.
I was only twenty-one, a high school graduate who'd started working before going into the military. That was about as much as I could have saved.
Considering rent and all my other expenses, I'd have to find at least a part-time job within three months.
After that, I'd really be kicked out onto the streets.
'With this tiny, feeble body, no less...'
Besides, no one would probably hire me now that I had no resident registration number. No shop owner would want to plant a ticking time bomb in their business when it could go off at any moment.
The jobs for people without legal identities I'd seen in the news or movies...
As I remembered it, there were no options but to be exploited illegally or to choose that life yourself.
And in the case of most little girls...
"Ugh..."
I shook my head hard, trying to erase the awful thought. I didn't want to spend my life as a piece of garbage in society, selling my body just to survive each day.
Even if I'd become this, my mind hadn't changed into a girl's, so the sight of male genitalia might make me throw up on the spot.
A primal, physiological rejection. Even this body seemed to reject it; my stomach kept churning, and I began to feel relieved.
That meant setting illegal options aside. Since I needed a resident registration number before I could do anything, I headed straight to the community service center.
Since I didn't have any suitable clothes, I just threw on an oversized white T-shirt.
I couldn't wear underwear, either, since my clothes wouldn't cover it, so I had no choice but to go out like this.
I could feel people around me staring, but I planned to stick to the story that I was an undocumented person whose parents had died and who'd been living on the streets. So even if the police approached me, I had nothing to worry about.
"Um... hello... I'd like to register a birth."
After making it to the community service center, I was shown what to do without much trouble.
Though the employees did look at me with pity.
I wrote my full name on the form in crooked handwriting, then confidently wrote 'I don't know' in the section for my parents' information and submitted it.
Since I needed to be able to work part-time, I put down that I was nineteen.
I had to be over eighteen by international age, so I just wrote January 1 as my birthday.
But the answer I got was that they couldn't process it.
Under current law, they said there was no way they could do it unless they could at least identify and verify my mother's identity, even if they wanted to.
'What a fucking shitty world.'
I muttered that to myself as I sucked on the lollipop the kind woman at the community service center had given me earlier.
The sweet, smooth flavor, like a subtle blend of strawberry and milk, wasn't all that bad.
I returned home without getting anywhere and sank into thought once more.
The more I thought about it, the more it hammered home that from now on I'd have to live in the body of a little girl, without legal identity for the rest of my life and with no decent way to make money.
I'd fallen all the way to rock bottom, with no way to climb back up.
Like birds soaring high without realizing the sun's heat, I could feel my heart plunging into the depths.
If things stayed this way, my money would run out and I'd end up homeless. That was the objective fact looming right before me.
There was no one I could turn to for help, either.
I'd never known any relatives besides my parents, and I hadn't been in touch with my friends for over a year.
Even if I contacted them now and said, 'I turned into a little girl. Let me stay with you and feed me,' they'd obviously think it was a prank call or a scam.
And even if someone offered to help, I didn't want to go to their house. Who knew what they might do to me?
To escape reality, I picked up my phone and started browsing the internet.
Looking at all the bait posts meant to make other people laugh, as if my worries were meaningless, I couldn't help but snort.
Still, thinking there might be someone else like me, I decided to post on a community that dealt with TS.
"Ugh..."
Ever since I'd become a little girl, maybe my intelligence had changed, too, because I started making a strange number of typos.
I even made basic mistakes like confusing '되' and '돼,' until I couldn't even tell which one was correct anymore.
After I uploaded a post that looked like a mess even to me, a comment appeared about a minute later.
- Nongnoooongnongnong lolololololololol!!! H-huuuuugh!!!! Kegek
- TS verification is grounds for a ban
- 130 cm tall, huff... huff... lololol huff lol Nongnong lololol Nongnongnoooong lololol
......
Those disgusting comments, which didn't even look like human language, made my stomach start churning again, even though I'd just managed to calm down.
No. They'd probably just taken it as a joke and commented like that, but being the target of it myself was a deeply alienating and revolting experience.
Just imagining grown men on the other side looking at me and posting comments like that made me want to grab the toilet and throw up right away...
In the end, realizing there was nothing to gain from the internet either, I threw my phone far away with all my might, full of disgust and despair.
I couldn't see any light. Money would keep draining away, and soon, with no income, I'd be kicked out.
When I thought about what I'd have to do to avoid starving to death, all I could do was sigh.
The only future I could imagine was one where my mind and body were completely worn away, a life worse than death... It was nothing but bleak.
"Should I just... die?"
If I was destined to die eventually anyway, I thought it would be better to just die now instead of dragging it out.
It'd spare me from clinging to pointless hope, and the landlord wouldn't have to call and get angry at me, either.
The man who'd had everything taken from him by the world in an instant had no strength or vision left to fight back.
So I ordered a sturdy-looking rope online.
I tied it to the ceiling, securing it as best I could, then struggled to stack two chairs on top of each other.
And since I wanted to die feeling refreshed, I left the window open, too.
The cool breeze felt quite pleasant as it tickled my cheek, and I felt good.
'Goodbye, world.'