Chapter 4: The pretty girl whose life was ruined(4)
Honestly, there’s no grand plan.
Just ride the EXP Mega Burning event, level up a bit, join a decent guild advertising in regional chat, blend in, and snag a few items… that’s the vague idea.
Yeah, I’m not thrilled about it either.
But what can I do? I’m broke. Saving doesn’t help when there’s nothing to save, and expenses just keep piling up…
Today was especially bad.
I woke up feeling like everything’s gone to hell. Or maybe that’s why I woke up.
That… you know, the damp, slightly sticky feeling between my legs…
Period. Fck.
I’m not an idiot. With a chest this size, of course I’d get periods. I bought pads ages ago.
Reading TS novels sometimes makes me roll my eyes. Not just TS, but all those regression novels too. Does getting a younger body make your brain dumber? No way.
I knew I’d pay the price for not getting pregnant within a month.
But I bought pads from a site 500 won cheaper than Coupang, not expecting delivery to be late.
I didn’t expect my period to start while I was sleeping.
And I didn’t realize my crap mood lately, especially yesterday, was a warning sign.
…Fck, I just didn’t know. Call me an idiot. A cute girl idiot feels better than just an idiot, maybe.
“Fck.”
When I saw the blood-stained sheets and screamed like a girl for the first time—‘Kyaaa!’—curses just spilled out.
Why is there so much blood? This frail body looks like it’d barely squeeze out water, just boobs, so how is this right? Is something wrong?
Now that I think about it, it’s weird. My chest and limbs are so disproportionate. This can’t be a normal body.
Maybe I’m dying. A few more periods like this, and all my blood will drain out. My proteins, fats, brain, spinal cord—all melting away, leaving just my chest…
I snap out of escapism and shove the sheets into the drum washer. I add an extra cup of detergent. It won’t clean the blood completely, but whatever.
Most one-room apartments have a small drum washer under the sink. It’s not big enough for sheets and blankets. Cramming them in won’t clean them properly.
So… I haven’t washed the blanket yet. I never thought the washer’s noise was bad, but today it’s grating. Really pissing me off.
The blood-soaked blanket’s probably a big part of it. Nowhere proper to put it, so I laid it on the bed to avoid staining the mattress.
Now the whole room smells metallic.
I don’t even start the game, just stare blankly at the spinning washer. Round and round, like a fan, but not slow—too fast for a human to keep up.
Spin, spin, whirrr…
Am I dizzy from staring at this, or from losing blood? No, it’s the period that made me run the washer, so it’s all the same.
And it’s leaking again.
I rush to the bathroom. Wiping with tissue doesn’t help the gross feeling.
Forget the sheets and blanket—my underwear and pajamas are done for. How much will this cost? I’m screwed.
I’m mad. What did I do wrong? What did I even want?
I’m so mad. Annoyed, angry, annoyed, angry. It’s frustrating, my head’s burning, then freezing, and I’m dizzy, but the anger won’t stop, it’s overwhelming, and—
Hic.
For the first time, I cry like some pathetic girl.
I must be a real loser. So damn pitiful.
In the foggy bathroom mirror, I see a pale, teary-eyed, venomous-looking pretty girl.
Big boobs, but barely enough money for an auntie-style bra, wearing the same one for days and probably for three more. What a loser, so pathetic.
My life’s screwed.
Anyway, I need to make money.
The laundry results were as expected. The bloodstains faded but didn’t vanish. It looks like crap, but I can’t afford new bedding.
I hang the sheets and blanket on the drying rack. One rack isn’t enough for both, but I manage to keep them mostly off the floor.
I ordered new underwear, though. I’m ready to survive on instant rice and ramen for a while.
No choice. The underwear’s unwearable. Men’s underwear doesn’t fit. Going commando? Even I’m not that desperate…
I didn’t want to deal with this crap, so I ordered via rocket delivery. They needed a minimum order, so I added pads too.
The ones I bought last time are still stuck at the Okcheon hub. Fck.
But will instant rice and ramen cut it? Not about nutrition—there’s a real problem.
I need tteokbokki.
I know it sounds like nonsense, but I need it.
If I don’t eat tteokbokki, I can’t handle it. My body just won’t cooperate. It’s like I’ve starved for two days—zero energy, vision going white.
It’s not about willpower. Really, truly.
You might call it some absurd obsession, but if that’s the case, is waking up as a silver-haired, green-eyed pretty girl normal?
At least an obsession feels familiar.
I don’t know how often this dumb urge hits, but it’s only happened once, yesterday.
That’s good news. Bad news?
…It’s not just tteokbokki.
A few days ago, I devoured mara-tang. Fck.
How is delivery food so expensive? I tried so hard to resist, but I couldn’t. I felt like I’d bash my head into a wall if I didn’t order it.
I almost did. Not wanting to scar my pretty face was the last line of defense.
This is wrecking my finances. Eating like a beggar for other meals doesn’t help when one pricey order ruins it.
And it’s not over. I don’t know how often this’ll happen or what expensive food I’ll crave next.
Chicken feet are pricier than tteokbokki. Macarons or dacquoise? The price isn’t the issue—they don’t fill you up, just pure loss. Bubble tea or pasta might be more reasonable…
But there’s a bigger problem.
While showering to wash off bloodstains, scrubbing my decently shaped hips, I noticed something above.
Belly fat.
I thought I was getting belly fat.
At first, I denied it. No way, right?
TS has a basic rule, an axiom: TS means instant pretty girl. No maintenance needed—porcelain skin, glossy hair, perfect figure without diet or exercise.
That’s supposed to be how it works.
44.2 kg.
The scale betrayed that truth.
This isn’t just from eating a lot. A few days ago, I was around 42 kg. I didn’t even finish yesterday’s tteokbokki—leftovers are in the fridge.
And I haven’t eaten since waking up. I’m dizzy, lightheaded—barely drank water.
So why?
Sure, people gain weight if they eat a lot and don’t move. But I didn’t expect this. I thought my body was beyond normal logic.
This makes the future even worse. Mara-tang, tteokbokki—these urges hit like a hammer. I can’t control them.
If eating’s unavoidable, I need to exercise… Does that make sense? A shut-in, exercising?
I could work out at home, but I don’t know how. Follow a YouTube video? I don’t even have a yoga mat or foam roller.
Do I need to buy those too?
The more I realize I’m a woman, the crappier it feels. Being a woman isn’t bad, but everything else keeps screwing with me.
My head hurts, my wallet hurts more.
My life, fck, really, truly, fcking screwed.
I hurry to log into Arksha Online with my alt. Lv. 47 FlowerHaeneul, today’s goal: hit 70 and join a guild.
Get ready, guys—I’m coming for your items.