Chapter 38: Identity Revealed and a Shocking Misunderstanding

“Finally feeling a bit better.”

Wearing the mask the employee brought reduced the stares. Some people still glanced at my dirty shirt and the scratches from falling, but it was better than before.

“How is it that not a single person who sees me doesn’t report me? Do I look that sick?”

Before, eight out of ten passersby would call emergency services. Now, even with the mask, all ten tried to report me.

At this rate, getting dragged to a hospital was only a matter of time. To avoid the stares, I tried moving to a less crowded area with the employee, but she resisted at first, causing quite a hassle.

“Why are you stopping me?! People are reporting me right now!!!”

“%^~@(!”

[She says it’s dangerous to go somewhere isolated.]

“I don’t see any problem with that. Besides, the scratches are just under my clothes—not even that painful.”

[Maybe, but your appearance itself is a problem. You might think it’s not painful, but do others seeing you agree?]

“…What do I look like to them?”

[Honestly? Like a survivor barely escaping a terrorist attack. Dirty clothes, blood on your white shirt—anyone would think you’re on the brink of death.]

“Then I need to get to a secluded spot right now.”

Thanks to God’s translation, I convinced her, and we moved to a less crowded area. People kept reporting me along the way, so we hurried, and only upon reaching a quiet spot could I catch my breath.

“Phew, now I feel alive. The outside world is dangerous.”

“-/;:@)”

As I rested, the employee looked at me with concern and said something. Guessing her meaning from context, I responded confidently using phrases God taught me.

“…No problem, thank you.”

[Do you even know what that means?]

“No, it seemed like she was asking about my condition, so I said I’m fine. Was it something else?”

[Close enough. She asked if it’s okay to stay here. Looks like you’ll manage without me.]

“Don’t leave! If you go now, I’m totally screwed.”

Without God, I can’t communicate. Misunderstandings would pile up, and I need to avoid that.

[I’ve got work soon, so prepare yourself. If I could help indefinitely, why would anyone wish for ‘translation’ abilities?]

…Should I have used one of my three wishes for language? Maybe I was too hasty with them.

But no regrets. I’m fairly satisfied with this life. It’s definitely better than my past life, where satisfaction was nonexistent.

While lost in thought, the pain from my scratches started creeping in, and to make matters worse, hunger hit.

“Should I ask her to buy me food?”

Going to a restaurant in this state would land me in a hospital. Eating out looking like this? People would react even worse than at that noodle shop.

Ordering delivery here?

Last time I ordered, the police showed up and caused a scene. If I look like a terrorism survivor, as God said, they might even call the military. With this body, it’s not impossible.

“The only option is to use this employee… but will she agree?”

As I pondered, an angel whispered in my mind.

Idiot, she’s the bad person who dragged you out of your house while you were resting. If someone does wrong, they should pay, right?

The demon roared with laughter.

Hahaha! Why hesitate over something so obvious? If you’re hungry, you eat. When have you ever cared about means or methods? Tell her now!

Hmm, consensus.

[Consensus, my foot. Just say you’re hungry.]

“How do I say ‘Can you buy me food?’”

[That’s…]

But God trailed off and vanished again, leaving me to face my hunger in silence.

Grrrr…

“Damn it.”

What now? Is there really no way to communicate?

God handled all translations and gave me context-appropriate phrases, making conversation smooth. Without him, I couldn’t do anything.

If I could at least understand her, I might find a way to express myself, but dragged out without my phone, I had no solutions.

“Come to think of it, she probably won’t let me go home. How do I get back?”

The only reason I’m here is because she forcibly dragged me out. Even if I say I want to go home, she won’t allow it. I still don’t know why she pulled me out like a kidnapper, but if I stay here, Ji Yoon will worry when she notices I’m gone.

As worry piled up, the employee, looking at her phone, cautiously spoke.

“Talking, OK? Like this? Awkward, talking. Still.”

“For saying it’s awkward, you’re doing pretty well.”

“Pardon? Didn’t understand. Say again.”

“You’re doing well.”

I couldn’t catch some words, but I pieced together her meaning from context. This could let us communicate smoothly again.

Relieved, I sighed, and she spoke cautiously.

“Grrrr sound, heard. Are you hungry?”

“Yes, I’m hungry. By the way, earlier…”

“Looked hard to communicate, so used translator. Works well. If hungry, go eat food?”

“Going to a restaurant like this would cause problems. I need to go home or eat here.”

Her face stiffened slightly.

“But… that house…”

“Right, circumstances mean I can’t go with you. So we part here, or you buy food.”

“Can do delivery? That’s good choice…”

“Last time I ordered delivery, the police came. Delivery… won’t work.”

She nodded, understanding, then ran off. When she returned, her hands were full.

“This place’s mart, frozen food surprisingly good. Bought enough tasty stuff.”

“You got a lot, thank you. By the way, what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you ‘you’ or ‘that person.’”

“Tonia, Tonia Rico. Your name?”

“Seol Jiyeon. Nice to meet you, belatedly.”

After introductions, we sat on a bench, eating the frozen food she prepared, and chatted.

“Tonia, can I ask why you dragged me out of the house? It was so sudden I couldn’t ask earlier.”

“…That place, horror. How can you live with a criminal, enduring such terrible pain?”

“Criminal…? Pain…?”

What does she think my house is? From her words, it sounds like she sees it as a criminal’s den.

“It’s a misunderstanding. My house isn’t a criminal hideout, and I’m living just fine, not in pain.”

“Don’t worry. No need to hide. I know how much that criminal posing as a novelist is tormenting you.”

“A criminal posing as a novelist?”

Is she talking about me*?

As I listened with growing suspicion, Tonia excitedly started trashing my novel.

“Yes, writing such horrific content requires either a genius or a terrible criminal. But everything except the crime parts is trash! The plot, the pacing, the characters! So, definitely a terrible criminal!”

…She’s slamming my work to my face?

Sensing the tense atmosphere, Tonia cautiously added, “No, that’s not what I meant.”

With a hollow laugh, I replied weakly to her puzzled look.

“That novel… I wrote it.”

Tonia leaned closer, as if she’d heard something unthinkable.

“…Pardon?”

“The novel you said is trash except for the crime parts… I wrote it.”

You just insulted it to the author’s face.

At my words, Tonia’s face looked like her soul had fled, and she screamed to the heavens.

“Whaaaaaaaaat????????”