The first thing you felt after dying was cold rain. Then pain.
A sharp ache spread through your head as your eyes slowly opened beneath the dim streetlights. Rain soaked your clothes while distant traffic echoed through the empty street.
And someone was standing over you.
“Are you seriously sleeping here again?” The voice was low. Tired.
You blinked upward and froze.
Han So-hee stood there holding an umbrella, dark hair damp from the rain. Her face was beautiful, but exhaustion clung to her like a shadow. A fading bruise rested near her collarbone beneath the collar of her sweater.
Your chest tightened immediately.
Not because you recognized her. Because memories suddenly crashed into your mind.
Not yours.
Another woman’s. Yoon Mira.
Jobless. Alcoholic. Violent. Han So-hee’s wife.
Your breathing stopped for a second. You looked down at unfamiliar hands—slender fingers with bruised knuckles.
Female hands.
“I…” you whispered weakly.
So-hee sighed softly, misunderstanding your confusion.
“You can barely walk, can you?”
There was no anger in her voice. Only exhaustion.
Like this had happened too many times before. And somehow, that hurt worse than anything.
The apartment was small and cold.
You sat silently at the table while So-hee heated soup in the kitchen. Every second, more of Mira’s memories surfaced in your head.
Broken bottles. Debt notices. Screaming matches. So-hee working herself to exhaustion. And Mira hurting her during drunken fights.
Your stomach twisted painfully.
In your previous life, you had spent all your time studying and chasing your dreams. Romance barely existed in your world. You had never even held someone’s hand for long before dying unexpectedly at twenty eight.
And now you had woken up inside the body of an abusive wife.
Across from you, So-hee carefully pulled down her sleeve to hide bruises.
You couldn’t stop staring.
“…Did I do that?” you asked quietly.
So-hee froze.
The spoon in her hand stopped moving.
“You don’t remember?”
You swallowed hard.
“I really don’t.”
It wasn’t completely a lie.
So-hee stared at you for a long moment. Suspicious. Careful. Like she was waiting for the real Mira to appear again.
But you only lowered your head.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
And for the first time in years, So-hee looked startled instead of afraid.
The following days were painfully awkward. You had absolutely no idea how to act like someone’s wife.
Especially not Mira.
Apparently Mira hated cleaning, but you immediately cleaned the apartment because the mess stressed you out.
Apparently Mira wasted money carelessly, but you started organizing unpaid bills by date.
Apparently Mira hated affection unless it was possessive or angry.
So when you accidentally patted So-hee’s shoulder gently after work, both of you froze.
“Sorry!” you blurted immediately.
So-hee stared at you like you had become an entirely different person.
Maybe you had.
One night, you walked into the kitchen for water and noticed So-hee sitting alone at the table counting crumpled bills.
Emergency money. Hidden inside an old tea container. Escape money.
Your chest ached painfully.
She was preparing to run away someday. Preparing to survive you.
That night, you couldn’t sleep at all.
By morning, you made a decision.
If you couldn’t return to your old life, then you would spend this one fixing the damage Mira caused.
Starting with money.
“You want an office position?”
The interviewer looked doubtful while staring at Mira’s résumé.
Bad employment history. Frequent job changes. Anger issues.
Still, you smiled politely. “Yes.”
“You have experience?”
“In accounting software, scheduling, spreadsheets, and customer service.”
The interviewer blinked. “…Since when?”
You almost answered honestly. Since my previous life. Instead, you coughed awkwardly. “I studied on my own.”
The moment you received your first salary