Pen and Paper Translations

He finally got another chance at life, only to hear he might die again.

What kind of nonsense was this?

How hard-won a chance was this?

Right before he died, Rowoon’s head had been flooded by regrets from his past.

He’d vowed that if he ever got another chance, he wouldn’t live like he had before.

But now, here he was, staring death in the face again before he’d even had the chance to try anything.

A desperate sense of crisis washed over Rowoon.

“Wait—so what exactly am I supposed to do? How do I repay it?” he asked urgently.

Yet the water droplet started babbling about something else entirely.

[That’s not necessarily bad news for you. Receiving the attention of the heavens isn’t easy, you know! And you did it! Well, you and I together did, to be precise.]

Cheong-Hwa—who was half explaining, half consoling—finally got around to the main point Rowoon was after:

[First off, what you need to gather is ‘merit.’ All celestial beings require merit to ascend. I need that merit, too. It’s what my existence is made of. The power that saved you came from me, so if I disappear, you’ll vanish along with me.]

“Okay, so I need to collect merit. But how do I do that?”

“Merit” sounded awfully vague, but at least he now knew what had to be gathered. The crucial part was how.

[So basically, the task you must— …]

Something was off. Cheong-Hwa’s voice started fading, and the droplet itself looked more transparent.

“Cheong-Hwa? Hey, Cheong-Hwa!”

The droplet seemed just as alarmed.

[Damn it—why am I suddenly so sleepy…? Curse those old coots… Anyway, you have to collect… merit… karma…]

“That part I get, but you have to tell me how to collect it!”

Rowoon was frantic. He hadn’t come back to life just to lose everything again.

If I die, I won’t even get to eat those lunch boxes in the fridge…

Those premium lunch boxes at the convenience store—he’d always eyed them jealously whenever he went in, never quite able to afford them.

Fancy enough to challenge the very concept of a “convenience store meal,” they were pricey and loaded with top-tier contents.

They tasted just as amazing as they looked.

He’d circled around them for months before finally splurging on one. It had been a near-spiritual experience.

To die now and never taste them again would be too cruel.

And that was only a lunch box. If it had been that blissful, just imagine all the other things he’d missed out on!

He also had so many things he wanted to do.

He wanted to unveil all those songs he’d composed but never shown the world, and climb onto a stage again—something he’d only dreamed of since his accident.

But to do any of that, he had to stay alive.

He couldn’t die before ever setting foot on stage!

[Fulfill their requests… The others… compliance…]

The little droplet’s orb shape blurred, dissolving even faster.

“What requests? Whose requests are these? Who am I supposed to help?”

But before Rowoon could get any answers—

[…damn old geezers…]

Cheong-Hwa vanished with a last muttered curse at persons unknown.

“…”

Rowoon was left staring blankly, trying to absorb what just happened.

Is this really happening?

He’d died, come back to life, and was now facing death all over again. Could it be real?

But the one who could’ve explained it had disappeared, leaving only some murky hints behind.

Merit, huh? How do I even go about gathering that? And whose requests do I have to fulfill? And what was that about karma?

He felt sick to his stomach.

Even the 100% real dairy-cream donut he’d been happily eating a moment ago was now set aside.

Merit usually means living virtuously, right? So am I supposed to be super nice? But then what’s this request thing? Should I try going to a temple or something?

He could rack his brain all he wanted, but with Cheong-Hwa gone, there was no one left to give him an answer.

Let’s just do what I can for now.

First step was to figure out who this body’s original owner was.

He’d gotten a few clues by talking to the manager, but it wasn’t nearly enough.

I need to live on in this body from now on. “Know your enemy and know yourself,” right?

Pushing aside his swirling thoughts, Rowoon decided to explore the place he now called home.

“What kind of person am I, exactly?”

According to the manager, he was an actor—someone who’d been building his career steadily from bit parts onward.

But looking at this house…

Rowoon had gone from a rickety 40-year-old building that barely kept out the cold, to a sprawling two-story penthouse so big he couldn’t see it all in one glance. The difference was blinding.

Maybe he’s a hidden child of some chaebol family?

But would a chaebol heir still be a no-name?

Rowoon had briefly been in showbiz himself, so he knew money alone could smooth over just about anything: talent, scandals, you name it.

He even has a private doctor at his beck and call.

When Rowoon casually asked the manager, the man said the middle-aged doctor who’d examined him was his personal physician.

—I didn’t call him. He told us a while back to contact him if anything happened to you.

—We’ve seen him often, actually. Every time you got drunk sick, he’d come give you an IV.

Even with Rowoon’s limited education, he knew that doctors were considered top-tier professionals.

So every inch of this place only deepened the mystery.

No wonder the manager freaks out at the word “alcohol.” Did this guy do nothing but drink all the time?

Aside from the neatly stacked convenience-store lunch boxes in the main fridge, the rest of the massive fridge space was packed with alcohol of every kind.

And not just random bottles; there were pricey labels scrawled in fancy script everywhere.

The biggest eye-opener was the wine cellar.

Rowoon had first thought it was a small fridge like the one he’d used in his tiny apartment.

Turns out it was a luxurious wine cabinet, full of vintage wines.

All the clothes are high-end designer brands… so he’s definitely well-off.

And yet he was apparently still a “nobody.” It didn’t make sense.

“Would’ve been quickest to just ask him, if he was still here,” Rowoon mumbled, looking at the stranger’s face in the mirror.

It almost felt like that face might answer him if he stared long enough.

Come to think of it, I never asked where the original owner of this body went…

For reasons unknown, Cheong-Hwa had declared that the body was now Rowoon’s.

He’d even said something like:

“You’ve finally returned to your rightful place. It was originally yours, you know— mmph!”

Something had cut him off mid-sentence, but that was definitely what he said.

He also mentioned “revealing the secrets of heaven.”

Baffled as he was, Rowoon remembered every single word. He’d always had an excellent memory, and he’d trained it well back in his idol days.

So… maybe this body was mine in the first place? Like I was born with the wrong soul or something, out of a fantasy novel?

It was absurd—pure speculation with no one around to clarify. His imagination was running wild.

Just then, something shiny caught his eye.

Huh? What’s that?

Sitting there with a smooth, glossy surface free of any scratch—clearly brand new— was a smartphone, presumably belonging to this body’s former occupant.

And from the looks of it, it was the latest model, released less than a month ago.

Great. This is all I need.

Modern people’s phones are basically their second soul.

He used Face ID to unlock it—somehow, the phone recognized him—and decided to dig into this person’s life.

He started with the contacts list.

“Let’s see…”

He fumbled a little at first—it was his first time using such a cutting-edge phone—but muscle memory seemed to help. Soon, he had it figured out.

Scrolling… scrolling…

“…Huh?”

Rowoon’s expression grew more perplexed the more he scrolled.

“What’s up with this guy? No family?”

There were tons of contacts, but none that looked like family.

He checked the call log, messages, messenger app—nothing remotely familial there.

So maybe he’s not a chaebol heir either? He does seem to have lots of friends, though…

Hey, Lee Rowoon, are you hitting up XX tonight?

What’re you up to? The gang’s meeting—wanna come?

Bro, I heard they got amazing stuff today. Only waiting on you~

Dozens of messages from different people were pouring in, to the point of nearly flooding the app.

Compared to the few texts Rowoon used to get from his own family, it was staggering.

Hmm… guess that’s why the manager panics at the mention of alcohol.

Having skimmed through personal info, Rowoon moved on to a more thorough check.

He typed “Lee Rowoon” into the search bar, and the face he saw in the mirror popped right up.

So he is indeed an actor, at least according to the internet.

He even had a legitimate agency. Rowoon recognized the name—it was rumored to be where his old bandmate Hobeom was transferring, a so-called top-tier agency specializing in “elite” actors with real skill.

Rowoon knew about it because:

“If not for you losers, our Hobeom would’ve long since joined a decent agency and been building his career properly. Stupid incompetent company, how dare you keep him tied down after you all crashed and burned!”

A personal fan of Hobeom had publicly slandered both the group and its agency, creating a small stir back then.

Recalling that, Rowoon kept scrolling—until he froze.

Why… why is everybody hating on him?

Usually, if you’re unknown, you don’t get much online reaction at all.

But this person was different—there were reactions, albeit small in number, and every single one was negative:

Can’t criticize his face, but everything else is fair game. Actually, that face is a debuff too, so nvm.

Dude, go learn your lines for once.

At this point he’s not an actor but an influencer. Please stop spamming your selfies everywhere…

Stop wrecking my fave actor’s projects, just GTFO of the film industry forever^^!

Even Rowoon, who was no stranger to mass hatred (thanks to his group’s scandals), was shocked by the sheer hostility of these comments.

So he’s not just unknown—he’s infamous?

He clicked on some of the project titles linked to the profile. Alongside info on the films or shows, there were entire threads of comments dedicated to trashing this original owner.

Realizing he was now that person, Rowoon felt a darkness creeping in around him, like someone had switched off the lights and whispered, “See how dark it is? This is your future.”

Let’s not jump to conclusions. I can still ask the manager and figure it out.

Staying calm, Rowoon checked the SNS that commenters kept referencing. And he nearly doubted his eyes.

Five million?

Not fifty thousand. Not five hundred thousand. Five million followers.

He took a moment to recall the biggest heights of his old group, Garion, when they had looked poised to become top-tier idols. Their official group Instagram—shared by the entire band—had around 12 million followers at its peak.

But five million—just for an actor with no real filmography?

So that’s why they called him an influencer.

Rowoon had seen plenty of gorgeous idols and actors, but even by those standards, this new face had something extraordinary about it.

Aside from the strangely vacant look in his eyes, he did photograph like a professional model no matter how halfhearted the selfie was.

The number of hearts and comments was insane. Half of them were in English, half in Korean—and that Korean half was mostly insults.

Who exactly was this person…?

That question bubbled up again for the umpteenth time just as the manager returned from his phone call.

“Hyung, there’s something I’d like to know,” Rowoon said.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Am I… a bad actor?”

Thud.

The manager’s phone slipped out of his hand. “What… what are you talking about, Rowoon?”

His eyes lost focus, pupils shaking.

“I see a lot of people insulting me online, but I’ve apparently done a fair amount of work, right…?”

Rowoon was surprised by how many productions this body had actually been in, judging by the linked filmography on the portal site. He even recognized a few titles, although he’d had no clue this “Lee Rowoon” was in them.

He was only asking, but—

“…”

Don’t tell me he’s about to cry?

The manager looked so distraught that Rowoon nearly apologized on the spot.

But actions speak louder than words. Rowoon realized something instinctively:

Wait a second. This kind-hearted hyung can’t even bring himself to tell a “white lie” here, can he?

He was already facing death again, and now he was stuck in a body with such a terrible reputation.

Am I screwed or what?

No one had mentioned that surviving would be so unbelievably difficult.

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