Chapter 9: The bold saintess sways like a seductive flower snake

When it comes to judging a person, there are various standards one might consider.

Things like personality, wealth, honor or achievements, intelligence—or lack thereof.

In most cases, these qualities aren’t immediately apparent and are usually uncovered gradually as a relationship develops.

But there is one clear exception: appearance.

Almost everyone initially absorbs information through their eyes.

When encountering someone for the first time, with no prior knowledge of them, the only thing one can judge is their outward appearance.

In that sense, I—or more precisely, this body—stood out far more than necessary.

Sigh. I let out a deep breath.

Is this what it feels like to be a monkey in a zoo?

All I was doing was walking down the street, and yet all kinds of stares clung to my body like stickers.

It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling.

…No, honestly, it felt good.

I just found it a little, well, embarrassing to outwardly admit that fact.

It felt as though I’d become some kind of shameless show-off.

I even felt a strange satisfaction seeing people enchanted by my outer shell, reacting to my smallest actions.

Was this kind of desire always writhing inside me?

An uncontrollable, bitter chuckle escaped my lips, stretching the skin of my face.

The ripple of laughter seemed to vibrate deep within my chest, creating a curious resonance.

Beauty, as it turned out, wasn’t as natural as people might think.

In fact, it was one of those things that required constant effort to cultivate; otherwise, it withered away quickly.

If someone couldn’t wash for even a day or two, their charm would drastically decrease.

This was especially true for women.

The development of makeup techniques throughout history wasn’t without reason.

And yet, look at me now.

I hadn’t bathed before going out.

I wasn’t wearing any noticeable makeup.

I wasn’t even dressed in attention-grabbing clothing.

I was covered from head to toe, wearing layers of thick clothes inappropriate for the early summer sun blazing down.

No matter how much of an attention-seeker I might be, that was strictly limited to the online world.

Moreover, I wasn’t afflicted by any exhibitionist tendencies that would lead me to flaunt my bare chest in public.

The one misstep at the convenience store where I bought sanitary pads was more than enough of an accident for me.

So, naturally, I ended up wearing two thick layers on top.

Not that there weren’t other options.

When I first found myself in this body, it was naturally adorned with all the attire typical of a “Saintess.”

Or rather, calling it attire feels a little off. Anyway, the entire outfit.

A flowing, all-white nun’s habit adorned with Celtic symbols hanging here and there.

And then… garter belts, white stockings, and undergarments made of sheer lace that screamed sensuality, as if meant for no one else to see.

A certain conversation comes to mind:

“Saintess: It’s ‘common knowledge’ that nuns wear provocative underwear, isn’t it?”

“A bald head is the symbol of vitality: This is practically walking sex.”

What was I even like in the past?

In any case, wearing something like that in real life would be embarrassing, no matter who I was.

Even if no one else would ever see it, just the act of wearing such things was an entirely different matter.

I’d rather sweat buckets in outdated clothes like I was now.

And yet, the attention still swarmed.

The physical attributes of this ridiculously sensual body were so perfect that they could transform even the most clueless fashion disaster into a designer’s muse.

If someone called me arrogant, I wouldn’t have much of an argument against it.

But at the moment, I didn’t have the luxury to care about petty remarks born of jealousy.

In the grand scheme of things, if you broaden your perspective just a little, we’re all people with the same basic features: eyes, noses, and mouths in their proper places.

The current me, the old me, or even the pockmarked, timid man in front of me, whose face was turning beet red as he sneaked glances at my face and chest—we’re all just human.

However, just as no one would say that the color of coal and the luster of obsidian are the same,

it’s impossible to claim that the dull black shade of the old me, barely distinguishable as black, and the dazzling brilliance of the current me hold the same value just because we’re the same species.

To sum up all this rambling:

The Saintess is beautiful.

I have become the Saintess.

Therefore,

I am beautiful.

“Yes, so, this is out of stock everywhere right now, and you can’t find it anywhere else!”

The pockmarked man’s voice cracked embarrassingly at the “right now” part.

In his hands was a box-shaped object roughly large enough to hold with both arms.

His beet-red face deepened into a dark crimson, seemingly mortified by his voice cracking.

He continued speaking.

“In gaming, streaming, vocals, instruments, podcasts—everything you can do with a mic—this offers top-tier sound quality while consuming minimal power. And for its performance, it’s incredibly cost-efficient….”

His passionate sales pitch was starting to wear me out a little.

All I wanted was a cheap microphone, nothing fancy.

I asked to clarify, “So, you’re saying this is… 20,000 won?”

The man’s face froze for just a split second.

A barely perceptible stiffening.

It was a subtle reaction that I would have missed before, but the “Saintess” could see through it.

Even without the monstrous reflexes and focus that came with this body, I would have known that claiming this microphone cost only 20,000 won was a blatant lie.

The box in his hands, with its sleek design and branding, made it obvious that it was worth at least 200,000 or 300,000 won.

Not to mention, it was written right there on the box.

“Suggested retail price: 298,000 won.”

The moment the man noticed my gaze drift toward the label, he began frantically rubbing out one of the zeros with his fingernail.

Where does it say 298,00 won?

“Yes! I’m giving you a bit of a discount!”

…

“Really?”

“Of course!”

He stiffened like a fresh recruit, newly assigned to his post, under the wary eyes of his superiors, as if introducing himself.

I couldn’t help but chuckle softly at his reaction.

For some reason, this caused him to shudder like someone struck by lightning.

He looked like a character straight out of a Disney movie.

What a delightfully responsive person, I thought.

It wasn’t as if this man was some corporate spy sent to sabotage the shop by slashing product prices.

The desperate efforts he made to hand me this microphone, practically at a loss, had their reasons.

And the reason was simple: I had decided to buy a microphone.

To elaborate further: yesterday, I got demoted to Yellow 2.

Even now, just thinking about it makes my blood boil.

Me? A Yellow 2 scrub?

Anyway, after my demotion, and following various squabbles with viewers, I received a 100,000 won donation from Sekaiichiban.

Using that as a turning point, I figured—why not? After all, I’m stuck with this ridiculous body now.

And typing out my gaming commentary yesterday felt like an exercise in futility.

So, I decided at the very least to put my voice out on stream.

But there was one problem.

The 100,000 won Sekaiichiban donated wasn’t actually mine yet.

The platform required a processing period before donations were cleared.

In short, I wanted to buy a microphone, but I didn’t have the money.

The only cash I had left after withdrawing from Upb…—curse those Ethereum scammers—and ordering pizza was exactly 22,000 won.

Still, I figured the world’s got expensive options and cheap ones too.

What’s the point of a rookie streamer like me having top-of-the-line equipment anyway?

So, with a nonchalant attitude, I withdrew some cash, barged into the nearest office supplies store, and casually asked for a 20,000-won microphone.

But instead, the man—whether he was a clerk or the store owner, I couldn’t tell—who had been staring blankly at me ever since I walked in, returned with this 298,000 (0)-won microphone.

“Uh…”

“Please! Just take it! I’m begging you! I couldn’t pay the shop rent because I didn’t have 20,000 won!”

What a ridiculous excuse.

Still, it wasn’t entirely incomprehensible.

The dreamy look in his eyes, his flushed skin, the emotions lingering in the corner of his gaze—all of it spoke volumes about his motives.

Since ancient times, beauty itself has been an object of exchange and plunder.

It possesses a power capable of trading for or rivaling other values.

Men, in their desire to win the favor of a woman who captivates them, will go to any lengths.

As someone who was once a man, how could I not know this?

Oh, I knew it all too painfully well.

He seemed so eager to be taken advantage of; digging into the truth wouldn’t do either of us any good.

…Am I a gold digger?

Oh, come on.

He said it’s fine.

“Alright, then… here you go.”

I handed him two crumpled bills from my pocket.

The man placed the box on the counter and, with a polite demeanor, reached out to accept the money.

Anyone would think he was receiving not just one but two royal audiences with King Sejong himself.

As he extended his hand to take the cash, he subtly twisted his wrist, attempting to graze my fingertips.

However—

This body of mine, attuned to even the faintest hint of movement, detected the subtle gesture.

Too bad for him.

I instinctively pulled my hand back, and his little non-trick was rendered useless.

A brief silence followed.

Both of us froze in place, each for our own reasons.

The only sound was the ticking of the clock, slowly consuming the silence.

Sigh.

Oh, what’s the harm? Why am I acting all high and mighty over something so trivial?

I pressed the bills into his hand, clasped it firmly, and shook it up and down.

“Huh? Wha—?”

The man made some bewildered noises, his body now frozen for a completely different reason.

What’s the big deal over a handshake?

I playfully shook his hand a few more times before suddenly letting go.

He stood there, unable to regain his composure, while I grabbed the box and said,

“Thanks. I’ll make good use of it.”

With that, I left the shop.

“So, yeah, if you look here, the mage casts Meteor Fall, right? No matter how you look at it, that was the wrong call. The warrior was already stuck on the priest, and the frontline had collapsed, letting the enemy break through to the backline.”

[Ooooh.]

[Yeah.]

[Listening carefully.]

[Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying… Noona… I’m dying…]

[The priest did well, tbh.]

[Now that I think about it, the frontline is garbage.]

[Look at how that Red Team warrior is playing—unbelievable.]

[Failing that parry in that situation is harder than succeeding, honestly.]

“Given the situation, using a massive spell that takes several minutes to cast was just too risky. It was way too easy to interrupt. Sure, if it had gone off, it might’ve turned the tide, but there was no way that was happening. And it didn’t—the cast was canceled.”

[Oh, now I get it.]

[Is that mage brain-dead? Who even lets someone like that play mage nowadays?]

[Am I the only one heartbroken watching the priest try so hard while none of the male characters help? Sis, my head hurts. 😭]

[Even with the game tilted, the priest’s determination to keep fighting was so admirable.]

[That kind of mindset is what creates comebacks. Yesterday was just unlucky, that’s all.]

[Wait, what’s with this voice? What’s with this voice? What’s with this voice? What’s with this voice? What’s with this voice? What’s with this voice?…]

[What’s that sound? What’s with the voice?]

[Wasn’t this guy the one who ran away mid-stream yesterday? Why are 200 people watching this trash doing a redemption arc?]

[Manager!!! Ban that newbie, you piece of crap!]

[This is such a small-time stream; no mods to keep things in check.]

[Streamer, kick that idiot out, please.]

[What even is this nonsense?]

“Uh… hmm. So, I’m not saying I wasn’t at fault. Especially here—where I messed up the healing adjustments and ended up overhealing too much.”

[Isn’t more healing a good thing?]

[Explain, please.]

[No one around me plays healer, so I don’t get it.]

[Noona…]

[I get what you’re trying to say, but wasn’t it unnecessarily complicated? Especially for Gaia’s Faith healers, they’re always so focused on adjusting heals that they misplace their aim and just end up growing weeds everywhere.]

[They’re probably talking about mana management, though.]

[What a trash build. If the streamer was Yellow 1 with this, they must be insanely skilled.]

“Yes, exactly. It’s about mana management. Oh, that’s a familiar username. FireMan Lee Hyukjin, wasn’t it? You’re the one who called me trash yesterday…”

[???????]

[KILL THAT GUY!!!!!!!]

[Hyukjin, drop your address! Hyukjin, drop your address! Hyukjin, drop your address! Hyukjin, drop your address! Hyukjin, drop your address! Hyukjin, drop your address! Hyukjin, drop your address!]

[Where do you live, man?]

[I’ll kill this kid myself and go straight to hell.]

[Is this guy a child? What’s with the way he talks??]

[Guys, even on the internet, let’s not cross the line—]

[No, it’s all a misunderstanding! I’d never! Haha, you’ve got it all wrong, oo.]

“Strange, I’m pretty sure you said it. Oh, wait, there’s this fantastic feature called ‘View Previous Chat History.’ Let’s see…”

『FireMan Lee Hyukjin donated 10,000 won!
Saint-nim, please close that tab immediately.』

“Why?”

『A mission has been created.
Mission: Close that tab.
Time left: 59 minutes 58 seconds.
Reward: 10,000 won.』

My first microphone broadcast was an overwhelming success.