Chapter 17

Living in someone else’s house is not easy, because the things you’re used to having around simply aren’t there. Of course, this included all types of clothing, including underwear.

Naturally, I should have packed everything I needed, but since the other party didn’t give me any time to prepare and dragged me here, I ended up forgetting essentials like underwear.

Surely, they couldn’t have thought this far ahead and planned for me to bring none of it.

When I woke up the next morning, the girl who had been sleeping in the bed was nowhere to be seen. On the desk, there was a neatly-written note that said: “Help yourself to the lingerie in one of my drawers. Surely, you’re not planning to wear the dirty clothes from yesterday? And don’t even think about going out without underwear on. People might notice something strange.”

I couldn’t just ignore the words written there… but not because I was scared of the almost threatening tone.

Rather, I wanted to maintain my previous habits.

Before I possessed this body, I was known for being exceptionally clean. I went so far as to apply skin lotions and creams daily, even though most people found it to be a hassle. The results spoke for themselves: I was renowned as an immaculate young man.

Being known as dirty by others was tantamount to being branded as a fool—a label I was unwilling to accept. As such, I couldn’t bear it.

Taking a shower wasn’t too difficult. The tattoo on my wrist didn’t hurt, even when it came into contact with water. Presumably, this was a side effect of the powers this body possessed.

Though deeper than the tattoo I once had, it still survived. If it had been made to be shallower because I didn’t want to d*e in the beginning, then it shouldn’t have been so deep.

Thus, my ability may have more to do with survival than protection. After pondering how to delay the inevitable, I eventually accepted the situation, closed my eyes tightly.

Should I try again?

“Hrrrgh!”

Fearing my eyes might be drawn to my chest, I closed them and attempted to fasten the bra strap.

But this body must not have stretched much or might have always relied on others to help put it on, because my attempts kept missing the mark several times.

I knew it was harder than usual since I was doing it blindly, yet I felt embarrassed and awkward to ask Inna for help, especially since even middle schoolers can handle this on their own.

Of course, failing without the help of a mirror isn’t unexpected when trying to snap a bra strap closed without properly positioning it against your chest first.

Even if I wasn’t using a mirror, the chances of succeeding would increase if I first placed the bra properly against my chest before closing the strap.

But that would mean…

‘I shouldn’t do it.’

It was a matter of integrity and pride. From now on, this body is mine, and I should get used to it. However, that’s assuming I’ll stay in it forever.

This body is merely borrowed. I plan to overcome the competitors assumed to be around here, leave cleanly, and return the body. Showing my n*ked body to someone else, especially a man, is unacceptable.

Though I’m borrowing this body, I need to see the endings of these games to leave this world. That’s the reason.

…And yet, there’s no recognition for how considerate I’m being, either from the game company or anyone else. At that moment, as if responding to my thoughts, a translucent window suddenly appeared in my sight even though my eyes were closed.

[Your ability has been appreciated. Awakening rate increased by 0.1 percent. Current ability awakening rate: 0.2.]

At the same moment, even though my eyes were closed, I could sense a flash of white lightning strike. I felt the strap slip from my fingers.

Opening my eyes, I saw that the white bra had been successfully fastened around my chest.

Is this one of the functions of my ability?

Even without any critical situation, it activated, resolved the problem, and disappeared.

“…Take care of the bottom half as well.”

What’s the point of helping me with the top and then disappearing? Trying to handle the bottom half makes me nervous of failing and possibly hurting myself. Still, despite waiting for my ability to activate again, it didn’t, so I closed my eyes and slowly bent down to work on it.

‘It’s just annoying, but I can do it if I really wanted to.’

Even though I couldn’t see, I could sense a chilling air. I picked up the thong and tried multiple times to step into it.

Unlike snapping the bra strap, since it was already in hand, I only needed to step into it. First try, failure. Second try, failure. After a few tries, I successfully got one leg in. All that’s left now is the other leg.

Thinking this would be easy and quick, I was surprised by how slow it was. Perhaps, it wasn’t just the physical act of dressing that was slow. It might be related to a reset of more than just social relationships—possibly even knowledge?

“How troublesome.”

A girl in a white apron muttered in the kitchen.

Erica was already on her own, needing no assistance. She wouldn’t ask for help from her new family, and her reputation at school was already at its worst.

Even if her sister offered help due to some problem, Erica would likely refuse it.

Thus, the real issue for anyone trying to take advantage of her forcibly would be her ability.

If she perceives a situation as unjust, her innate ability would grant her the power needed to break out of that unjust situation until she escapes.

Her once-reliable ability now seemed like an obstacle.

“Should I buy one of those rumored superpower inhibitors quietly going around lately?”

After saying that aloud, the girl chuckled to herself. There was no urgent need, after all. No reason to do something so hateful.

Slowly, steadily…

If Erica does not betray her, neither will she betray Erica, staying firmly as her precious friend.

This time, to ensure success.

The girl who had previously failed climbed upstairs, thinking she was taking too long.

What she found wasn’t just a girl; it was something akin to an ‘award’ for her decisions. What followed only emphasized the point.

*

“Okay, fine, I really wasn’t planning to ask, but let me ask just one thing.”

After the minor commotion settled, I sat at the dining table with an omurice in front of me. Instead of focusing on eating, I chose to have a conversation with the girl across from me.

Though the omurice would cool down if not eaten soon, as Mom might say, the red imprint of the slap I gave earlier was prominent on her face.

“When did you figure out my underwear size? It fits perfectly.”

“Oh, things like that can be estimated by just looking, you know. Maybe I’ve got a genius-level talent as a designer or something. What do you think?”

Had she not added that last part, I might have believed her. She maintained her act perfectly up till then, but the last line gave away her lie.

Perhaps because I slapped her earlier—though lightly—her skin seemed delicate, and her face was still red, oddly stirring guilt within me.

However, the fact that she intentionally lingered just to spy made me feel even angrier, embarrassed, and conflicted. That’s why I couldn’t stop my hand from rising.

…Thinking about it now, I feel like I’m becoming trash. Even though I wanted to hear her defend herself, saying something like “Why did you slap me?” or something, her continued friendly demeanor only deepened my guilt.

“It just means we’re close enough to have gone underwear shopping together.”

“Also… is your cheek okay?”

Beating someone with a fist is insane, so I used my palm instead, but I’m still slightly concerned. The girl smiled faintly at my action of asking without picking up the spoon.

“It’s fine. Sneaking peeks at you changing clothes just gives me the excuse to get slapped. It’s like an unspoken agreement between us, I guess. Muscle memory’s kicking in.”

Not only does she excel academically but does she also possess a violent streak? Just how many attributes does this body have?

Still, given the recent action’s normalcy, apologizing might seem odd. Especially since the first perverted move didn’t come from me but the other way around.

Because of that, I didn’t directly apologize but subtly extended a spoonful of omurice toward her mouth as a gesture of my remorse.

Even though the omurice she made herself might not have been eaten, she smiled brightly and promptly bit into the spoon I offered.

As she chewed and smeared her saliva onto my spoon, I thought to myself: though I did make a mistake this time, the fact remains that she’s indeed a pervert.

“If you’re feeling sorry, just have this.”

The spoon, clean without a single grain of rice, now gleamed with saliva.

“Hm… thinking about it, I’m not really sorry anymore.”

In admiration of the magic that erased all feelings of guilt, I rejected her offer discreetly. As if knowing I’d do this, she gave me a knowing smile.

“Well, then—there’s nothing I can do.”

Did she do that to forgive my impulsive violence or was it part of her perverse behavior?

If my body possesses the attributes of impulsive violence, self-harm, and intelligence, what kind of attributes does this heroine have? I now know she has cooking and perverted tendencies.

Putting aside these wandering thoughts, I quickly reached for the omurice with my spoon. Although waking up early gave me time to do more, it was about time to head to school.