Chapter 0: Prologue

“Terminal lung cancer.”

“What?”

Ever since I started feeling a stinging pain near my chest, I went to the hospital, only to receive a diagnosis of terminal lung cancer.

I barely drank or smoked, and I hadn’t noticed any significant symptoms, so the news of lung cancer hit me hard.

“You’re kidding, right? Haha, no matter how I think about it, it’s just a slight sting. Terminal lung cancer?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s definitely terminal lung cancer. It’s surprising you describe that pain as just a sting. To live a normal life in your condition is beyond my comprehension.”

“Doctor? If this is a joke, it’s a cruel one… Right? It’s a joke, isn’t it?”

“…I’m sorry.”

All my life, I’d only ever been told I was healthy. Or rather, I looked so healthy that people assumed I was.

‘Waaah! He hit me!’

‘Where’s your conscience? You threw ten punches first, and now you’re snitching?’

‘You look too fine for someone who got hit ten times. Lying is bad. Go stand over there with your hands up!’

‘But, teacher, that’s not—’

In kindergarten, I got punished just because I looked fine after being hit ten times for landing one punch.

‘Teacher, I think I’m being bullied at school lately.’

‘Hey, you can’t just lie like that!’

‘What?’

‘If there were any marks or signs of pain, I might understand, but you come here with no evidence. How am I supposed to help you?’

‘Teacher, look at this bruise—’

‘Where’s the bruise?’

In middle and high school, I was dismissed as a liar when I reported bullying because my body looked too healthy despite the beatings.

‘Hey, you f*cking faker, are you pretending to be sick?’

‘I’m not! I’m really in pain!’

‘A guy in pain walks around looking that fine? Get down, you slacker. Think military life is a breeze?’

‘I’m not!’

In the military, they called me a faker even when I was in a cast.

‘Kim, you’re taking sick leave? You don’t even look sick.’

‘Manager Lee, I’m really unwell. I just need one day off.’

‘It’s our busiest time right now. Don’t you think you’re being a bit selfish, Kim?’

At work, I was criticized for taking sick leave despite looking fine.

Being treated like this made me feel awful, but I always thought being healthy was enough to keep going. Terminal lung cancer? This had to be a cruel joke from God.

“…How much time do I have left?”

“A month at most. You should prepare yourself.”

Leaving the hospital after the doctor’s diagnosis, a wave of regret washed over me.

“I have terminal lung cancer.”

I felt hollow. It had been a tough life, but I’d worked hard and lived frugally, saving for a comfortable retirement.

Walking home from the hospital, I could feel the pain intensifying. Before, it was like being pricked by a needle occasionally, but now it felt like a needle was being stabbed deep and pulled out.

“I shouldn’t have asked.”

Looking at the painkillers the doctor gave me, my heart felt heavy.

That night, I took the painkillers and forced myself to endure the pain to sleep, but suddenly, I felt an excruciating pain, like a knife carving into my chest.

“Ugh… Painkillers, I need the painkillers…”

I tried to get up to find them, but the pain was so intense that my strength drained, and every attempt failed. Breathing became harder by the second.

Am I going to die like this? There’s so much I haven’t done. If I’m going to die, I should’ve spent all my money first.

As death approached, my mind was flooded with thoughts. Is this what they call a life flashing before your eyes?

Then, just as the unbearable pain made me feel like I was about to die, it vanished in an instant. Cautiously opening my eyes, I saw a potbellied man wearing sunglasses sitting at a table in front of me.

“Are you awake? No time to waste, so I’ll get straight to the point. You’re dead.”

“What?”

“You’re dead.”

“Just like that?”

The doctor said I had about a month left. I even quit my job today, planning to enjoy what time I had left, even if it wasn’t a full month… Dead?

“Your body reached a point where it couldn’t handle the pain anymore, so death was inevitable. To be precise, your body was never in a state to endure it in the first place.”

“I see.”

The man calmly explained the cause of my death, and I accepted the fact that I was dead.

“You’re accepting death pretty quickly.”

“Well, the doctor said a month at most, so it’s not that surprising. So, who are you? A grim reaper? Or a god?”

“A god.”

“Do gods usually guide the dead? I heard grim reapers do that.”

Normally, I’d grown up hearing that grim reapers guide the dead, so I was curious why a god showed up. The man, who introduced himself as a god, smirked and said,

“Your life was so rough that I came to grant you a wish. Usually, a grim reaper would handle this. You’re a special case.”

“So, any wish is fine? Like reincarnation, past lives, or even possession?”

“Doesn’t matter. Since one wish feels a bit cheap, I’ll grant up to three.”

Any wish, up to three. Without hesitation, I stated the wish I’d longed for my entire life.

The first was my main wish, and the other two were to ensure the first didn’t go astray.

“Make me reincarnate with a healthy body but looking like I’m sick. Physically, not mentally. No matter what I do, make me look fragile, like a glassfish.”

“I’ll give you a chance to take that back.”

“No need to take it back.”

Living a cheat-filled life in another world? Going back in time to live comfortably? I didn’t want any of that.

What I wanted was to be cared for, even once. To be comforted, even once. To be nursed, even once. That was my wish.

“Fine, I’ll grant your wish. But don’t blame me later. I gave you a chance to reconsider.”

“Don’t make me anxious. Just grant the wish already.”

“Step through that gate, and your wish will come true. It’s a world somewhat similar to the one you lived in, though there’ll be differences. There, you’ll live as ‘a healthy person who looks sick.’ Satisfied?”

“Very satisfied.”

“Time’s up. Enjoy your next life.”

The god waved and disappeared. Without hesitation, I threw myself toward the reincarnation gate.

Looking sick so others would worry about me?

How wonderful would that be? And I wouldn’t be called a faker anymore. That alone would let me endure any hardship. At that moment, I was overjoyed.

But now, I curse the past me who made this choice.

“No, f*ck… You didn’t say I’d become a woman!”

[Heh, well, a frail maiden is way better than a frail boy, so I made you a girl on purpose.]

“Stop screwing around and change me back to my original gender!”

[You chose to be a frail maiden. Tough it out.]

“I didn’t choose to be a maiden, you f*ck!”

And so, I became a frail-looking maiden.