"Brother, do you believe in the Way?"
The voice came out of nowhere while Ha-rang Lee was walking down the street. His mood was already shit today, so he shot back like the guy had just volunteered himself.
"Yes, I do. The Way is none other than TS."
What era did this cultist think it was? "Do you know the Way?"
Ha-rang decided to play the madman against this shady creep and vent some stress.
No, it wasn't an act. In his current mood, he really was half-insane.
The guy looked scary as hell.
Something about his vibe screamed suspicious.
And just because of that face of his—the one that made him look like a sex offender—he was getting treated like one for something he'd never done, and now he was rushing to the police station to clear his name.
'Fuck... What am I supposed to do about being born with this mug?'
Ha-rang knew it all too well.
His face screamed "criminal."
Because of it, he'd been through every unfair bullshit imaginable since he was a kid.
Class theft? He was suspect number one. Delinquent fights? Standard. Later, he even got pegged as a mobster's accomplice.
Today was no different.
The police called out of the blue, treating him like a sex criminal.
Someone reported a peeper in the women's restroom. They checked the CCTV, and there he was, just walking by.
It was so absurd he denied it vehemently,
but the cop said,
[If you're innocent, just sit tight.]
Like physiognomy was a science.
Voice dripping with certainty that he was the perp.
Fuming, Ha-rang bolted to the station to confront the cop face-to-face.
But just as his rage boiled over to the top of his head and tears of injustice welled up, the cultist approached him.
Perfect timing. Ha-rang latched onto the guy and launched into a sermon about the TS Church he'd "happened to discover online and decided to believe in."
"Do you know? To be reborn in the next life as a beautiful girl with such a lovely smile, you must believe in the TS Church."
"Th-thank you for the kind words. But I don't have time..."
"Hey, where do you think you're going? I ain't done yet! Are you gonna believe in the TS Church or not?!"
"Eek—!"
In the dim alley, Ha-rang—who looked like he could filet someone—came at him snarling, and the cultist bolted like his life depended on it.
A chase ensued naturally as Ha-rang pursued him.
"Let's believe in the TS Church together and find salvation!"
You couldn't fix a face like his with plastic surgery. Rebirth was the only answer.
Like someone once said, if he was gonna be reborn anyway, he genuinely hoped the TS Church would make him a beautiful girl.
Then he wouldn't get wrongly accused of being a sex offender like today, and no one would just snort at his explanations.
And that was just the start.
He could live easy, leveraging that stunning beauty.
Thinking of all the hardships he'd endured—stuff normal people never dealt with—just because of his menacing face, he desperately wanted payback as a beautiful girl in the next life.
"Wa... wait... huff huff, no!"
The chase was intense.
He was about to grab the cultist's collar.
Honk honk—!
"Guh?"
Right after the horn blared, Ha-rang felt a massive impact and flew through the air.
A truck had burst out from the alley slope and slammed right into him.
He was flung up, floating for three seconds before crashing to the ground.
That he didn't die instantly was a miracle, but that was it.
He couldn't even twitch a finger. His vision and hearing were foggy, like drowned in water—nothing worked right.
As his body rapidly chilled, Ha-rang slipped away.
'Fuck...'
Tears rolled down from the sheer injustice of it all.
How much hell had his vicious, sinister face put him through since birth?
He'd endured thinking good days would come eventually, but this was the end?
Not just any death—framed as a sex offender, rushing to clear his name, then hit by a truck.
Wasn't picking a fight with a cultist too harsh a price? It felt excessive.
'This... this is too much, right?'
He grew to hate the heavens that dealt him this fate, cursing whatever god was up there.
If there was any conscience at all, if there was a next life...
"Pay me back—."
With the thought that all his suffering deserved full compensation, Ha-rang closed his eyes—eyes he didn't want to close.
His eyelids, heavy as if he'd pulled a 30-hour all-nighter, shut against his will.
And so Ha-rang...
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
"This is me? This beautiful girl?"
was reborn.
"A dream?"
Ha-rang stared blankly at the mirror and pinched his cheek.
"Ow!"
The soft cheek looked like it would stick to his fingers.
Pulling it hard—comparing to the rough skin from his past life that could've scraped asphalt—he felt sharp pain.
He'd failed to control his strength; a red mark stayed.
The short-haired angel in the mirror teared up, gently caressing and stroking it.
'That's... me?'
Not self-loathing, but narcissism he'd never felt before surged up.
Gazing at his reflection, Ha-rang touched his face with fingertips in a daze of ecstasy.
To confirm it was real.
"Thought I was done for good..."
No, he had died.
The vivid memory of that moment and death's chill lingered.
He reflexively covered his mouth, swallowing the rising nausea.
No doubt.
Ha-rang Lee was dead.
But death wasn't the end.
Through it, he got a new life.
In this angelic beauty!
"...I was right to believe, TS Church."
Mumbling like an idiot, Ha-rang started grinning ear to ear.
Finally accepting the miracle.
'I really got paid back.'
All the hellish ordeals of his past life.
They were all for this moment.
...Honestly, probably not, but thinking so was small comfort for his past self.
Born with a criminal face, framed as a sex offender, died in a traffic accident protesting.
Had to see it as groundwork for this, or pity his past self too much.
"Rest in peace."
Praying hands together for himself, Ha-rang began scouting the room.
Thought he was dead, opened his eyes to a strange room, strange face.
Okay, survived death. Thanks to TS Church? Became a beauty, sure.
Problem: knew nothing else.
"Wallet... here."
Checked ID to figure out who he was now.
"Same name?"
Ha-rang Lee.
22 years old.
Part-timer.
Even same age. Eyes widened.
"Parallel world or something?"
Curiosity built with each discovery.
Dug more; found a diary in the drawer.
Flipped it open: full of complaints, gripes, sadness—like a journal.
Reading them, fragments of this body's memories surfaced.
"Orphan too. Similar life. Really a parallel world?"
Mind-blowing.
But after dying and reviving, what couldn't he accept?
"Orphan, so auto military exemption like before. ...Military?"
A sharp dissonance hit. Ha-rang sat on the floor with the diary, then shot up.
Hesitated not a second, dropped his pants.
Seeing the prominent presence, his jaw dropped.
"Why are you still there?"
Explained why it felt substantial, not empty.
Undeniably bigger than his past life's "Moby Dick."
"I... I'm not a girl? Still a guy with this face?!"
But why girl clothes?
Wary of worst-case, checked carefully down there. No axe wound—thank god.
Not hermaphrodite; fully male.
Diary and memories confirmed: born this way, not trans anything.
So this world's Ha-rang struggled with it.
Unmanly face.
All the woes from it.
Public restrooms awkward. Bullied as "girly" as a kid. As adult, women didn't treat him like a man.
Beyond that—women more beautiful than some girls envied, hated, bullied him.
So—
"Suicide, huh."
Now spotting the pill bottle by the bed, Ha-rang muttered bitterly.
Different vector, but same end from looks-related suffering. Felt kinship.
'People with beauty have their own troubles, huh.'
Honestly, parallel Ha-rang was relatable but baffling.
Delicate beauty that made women jealous.
Otokonoko in Japanese.
Pretty Boy in Korean.
Tomboy in English.
Cursed with such a blessing? Couldn't comprehend struggling that hard.
Beauty women envy?
Enough donors mistake for girl and send women's clothes?
Wow... Just enjoy it, right?
Leverage uniqueness, become celeb. Why not?
Bullied looks as complex from childhood?
Ha... Some faces get reported as perps just walking by!
Pouting, grumbling.
"Wow, even mad face is cute and beautiful."
Caught his reflection, smitten—instantly grinning again.
Couldn't understand at all.
This pretty face? He loved it.
But that night,
"Um, excuse me...! You're totally my type. Can I get your number...?"
Ha-rang got why right away.
'Customer, please don't do this while I'm working.'
"You little prick, who do you think you are? Get the fuck out—!"