Drip. Drip.
Raindrops splattered against the window of the dimly lit studio apartment.
Huddled on the bed, staring blankly at the wall, I noticed the once-gentle rain gradually intensifying.
The already chaotic and gloomy situation, compounded by the dreary weather, made me feel like I was on the verge of losing my mind.
Desperate to shake off the horrific memories, I pulled the blanket over my head.
"It's just rain... not gunfire..."
I've never liked rainy days.
The heavy, drumming sound of raindrops bears an uncanny resemblance to distant gunshots.
When I listen closely to the drip-drip of the rain, the bang-bang of gunfire often overlaps in my mind.
Though my rational mind knows it's just rain, the deeply ingrained trauma forces me to flinch reflexively.
"This isn't a battlefield... I'm safe here..."
Still, today I was managing to stay relatively sane.
Yesterday, the thunder had sounded so much like artillery fire that I'd panicked, convinced the shelling had resumed.
It had been three days since I returned to the real world, but my mind seemed to be still trapped on the battlefield.
My chronic insomnia had worsened, and the dark circles under my eyes grew darker with each passing day.
Please, get a grip...
But I couldn't keep hiding like this forever.
Even setting aside the sleep deprivation, I was barely eating and felt like I could collapse at any moment.
Tomorrow, I might once again be writhing in trauma, desperately trying to escape reality.
With that thought, I picked up my smartphone from the nightstand, hoping to at least understand my current situation a little better.
"...An ID card?"
While examining my smartphone, an ID card slipped out from under the case.
The card contained information—name, gender, age, address—that had absolutely nothing in common with my original identity.
Victoria Chernakoshka (Виктория Чернакошка), a 20-year-old female citizen residing abroad.
Though some details differed slightly, this was undoubtedly the personal information of the character I had possessed.
It seemed my body and identity had no intention of returning to their original state.
Betrayal washed over me, and a sob escaped my lips.
"Blin..."
I shook my head violently, trying to shake off the encroaching gloom.
If I succumbed to despair now, I'd likely spend the entire day buried under the covers, wallowing in misery.
If I missed this chance, I might never regain my sanity.
Resolved to face reality, I glanced back at the smartphone.
The messenger app looks exactly like the one I know...
Touching the screen revealed a slightly unfamiliar interface. Fortunately, there was no password, allowing me to click on the messenger app and browse the saved contacts.
But the registered numbers were few, and the chat logs were sparse and desolate. It seemed the original Victoria hadn't been particularly interested in socializing.
"Hmm?"
Still, two contacts caught my eye.
One was a man named Han Jin-tae, labeled "Universe Game Director," and the other was a woman named Shin Ara, labeled "Psychological Counselor."
The reason I focused on their contacts was simple.
The game director was someone I had met before, and the therapist was the only person who had been sending me messages until recently.
If it's Han Jintae, he must have been the lead director of the game I possessed...
Come to think of it, I vaguely remembered hearing something similar from a staff member when I was selected as a game tester.
The character Victoria Chernakoshka, who appeared in the game, was modeled after an aspiring actress they had cast.
Could it be that the original owner of this body was Victoria, the model for the character?
I had possessed Victoria in the game, and now I've possessed the real-world Victoria again?
Did we sell out our country in a past life or something?
If this deduction is correct, this is truly an unfortunate connection.
I didn't feel particularly guilty about taking over her body, but a strange discomfort lingered in a corner of my heart.
Director Han Jin-tae... Should I call him?
A surge of anger flared momentarily, but I quickly abandoned the thought and shook my head.
It was impossible for a mere game director to so thoroughly twist a person's fate.
The anomaly that had befallen me was a problem beyond blaming the game company—it was something for which I should be cursing the gods themselves.
Though it was regrettable that I couldn't claim compensation, my resentment toward the game company wasn't as strong as I'd expected.
It's been four years since I was transmigrated into this game... My original body must have already been cremated...
Regardless, I had to live on as Victoria Chernakoshka.
And truth be told, after surviving four years on the Eastern Front, I'd grown so accustomed to this body that it no longer felt like someone else's.
The only thing that bothered me was that my growth seemed to have stalled, leaving me with a perpetually youthful appearance.
With a face full of regret, I gazed at the VR capsule tucked into a corner of the studio apartment.
"Nothing's changed in four years..."
It was undoubtedly a state-of-the-art model, a recliner-style VR capsule.
The familiar face of a girl was clearly reflected on its pitch-black lid.
Black hair brushed her shoulders, and her dark eyes had lost their luster. Even the deep dark circles etched beneath her eyes, like permanent eyeliner, were exactly as they had been in the game.
Even the worn-out, exhausted aura that clung to her was identical to her in-game persona.
Seeing her like this, I could finally understand why my comrades had teased me for being "cute."
After all, there was no other doll-like face that so perfectly embodied the term "decadent beauty."
"Сука..."
But to my eyes, she could never be just pretty.
Being dragged to the battlefield in this body had subjected me to all sorts of hellish experiences, yet my cute appearance had never once been an advantage.
To make matters worse, the VR device I used as a mirror only worsened my mood.
The horrific memories from my time on the Eastern Front resurfaced, threatening to plunge me into panic.
I desperately wanted to scream, but I had to avoid another panic attack.
Forcing my pounding heart to calm, I picked up my smartphone again.
Come to think of it, I was still in contact with my therapist until recently.
Eager to distract myself, I quickly scrolled through my messenger's chat list.
Among the desolate list, I found the chat room labeled "Therapist Shin Ara" and clicked it without hesitation.
Of course, it was like eavesdropping on Victoria's private life without permission, but I didn't particularly mind.
After all, it was impossible to think of Victoria as a stranger at this point.
Shin Ara: Victoria, please don't try to understand the stalker's mindset. Stalking is a criminal act that cannot be understood, nor does it need to be.
Shin Ara: And you've already reported it to the police, right? Please don't try to handle this alone—it's too dangerous. I'm worried something might happen to you.
The conversation in the counseling chatroom was covering a more sensitive topic than I'd expected.
When I saw the title "Psychological Counselor," I'd assumed it would be about something like depression at most. I never imagined the word "stalker" would suddenly pop up.
Moreover, checking the conversation dates revealed that Victoria had been suffering from stalking for more than just a day or two.
Though I couldn't pinpoint the exact duration, it was clear that I had been tormented by a stalker for at least several years.
Unlike the original Victoria, I wasn't afraid of the stalker.
If the stalker had been a member of the Nazi SS, the situation would have been different, but in modern South Korea, such a scenario was utterly impossible.
Instead of fear or worry, only a sense of disgust arose within me.
With a bitter taste in my mouth, I quietly scrolled down.
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Shin Ara: Since you live near our counseling center, in-person sessions are also available. If you ever need someone to talk to, please don't hesitate to contact me. I'll come right away.
Still, reviewing the conversation gave me a glimmer of hope.
I desperately needed a therapist's help more than anyone else.
After all, despite my current appearance, I was a veteran soldier who had fought on the Eastern Front for four years.
To put it bluntly, I was little more than a killing machine, having taken the lives of hundreds.
Moreover, it was clear to anyone that I was in a mentally unstable state.
If I were to panic in a public place, the situation could easily escalate beyond a bloody incident into a major catastrophe.
Me: Can you really do home visits?
I immediately sent a message to the therapist.
Even if the stalker issue took a backseat, a therapist might be able to treat my mental illness.
I couldn't hide in my room forever, could I?
There was a risk of causing serious harm to my neighbors if things went wrong. It seemed best to get counseling while my mind was still relatively stable.
Shin Ara: Yes! Of course! When would you like to schedule a visit?
Fortunately, the counselor's reply arrived immediately.
Despite our conversation resuming after several days, her cheerful response was exactly what one would expect from a therapist.
Me: Are you available right now?
Shin Ara: Absolutely! Is your address Hanmaum Villa, Building 202?
Me: That's correct.
[Shin Ara: Since it's 퇴근 time, I'll leave right away! It's just across the street, so I'll be there in no time!]
After carefully verifying the address on her ID, I sent a cautious reply.
Peeking out the window, I saw the psychological counseling center's sign, confirming her claim that it was just across the street.
Moments later, someone began sprinting through the rain from the counseling center, cutting through the downpour.
The sight of them dashing through the city streets without any cover looked incredibly dangerous.
"U-ura... У-ура..."
Without a gun, I couldn't even provide covering fire.
All I could do was silently cheer them on.