His only real escape—something he’d always turned to while trapped by the burdens of being an Omega—was reading novels.
He especially loved stories set in worlds where Betas lived free from the constraints of secondary genders.
The Kind Guide was one of those novels. He remembered genuinely enjoying it back then.
But now, enjoyment wasn’t even an option.
Because somehow, he’d ended up possessed by the villain of The Kind Guide—Lee Tae-rim.
…Fuck.
***
The moment he stepped out of the hospital, a deep sigh slipped from his lips.
He came here every month now—like clockwork. It had become a routine, but that didn’t make it any less exhausting. He was sick of it. These damn suppressants… Can’t I just live without them? He knew the answer was no, and yet, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking it. This cursed trait.
Still, if he were being honest, this was partially self-inflicted. Suppressants were available over the counter at pharmacies. But he always felt more at ease getting a proper prescription from the hospital. That’s why, despite the stress it brought, he kept coming back every month to pick up his pheromone and heat suppressants.
His feet carried him to a nearby café without a second thought. He needed sugar. Something sweet to take the edge off. Once inside, he ordered a dessert and a coffee, then settled into a seat by the window.
I wish I was a Beta.
He didn’t know how many Betas were in this café, but that didn’t matter. Just knowing there were people out there who could live without worrying about things like this made him envious. What’s it like to live without giving a damn about any of it?
A sigh escaped him again, deeper this time. It was a useless train of thought, and he knew it. Trying to shake it off, he pulled out his phone. Time for a novel.
As he read and took slow bites of his dessert, the weight on his chest began to ease. This was exactly what he needed. There really was nothing better for clearing a tangled mind than escaping into a good story.
And then—
“Watch out! Move!”
Sudden shouts rang out, panicked and sharp.
Startled, he snapped his head up—and froze.
A car.
A huge car was barreling straight toward him, crashing through the café’s glass wall, aiming directly for his window seat.
His heart dropped.
Run! His mind screamed. But his body wouldn’t move.
So it was true—when people are really scared, they freeze.
Even as the people around him screamed and tried to pull him away, he just sat there, stunned, eyes locked on the approaching headlights.
And then—
CRASH!
The impact hit like a bomb. He was thrown like a rag doll, his body tumbling helplessly through the air.
Agony erupted through every inch of him. He couldn’t even tell where he was hurt—it all just hurt.
He lay sprawled across the cold floor, unable to move. He could feel blood pouring from his body, soaking into the ground and spreading fast.
Am I… dying?
The thought hit him like a whisper.
He tried to keep his eyes open, but his lids were too heavy. No—don’t pass out. I can’t die. I don’t want to die.
He fought to stay awake, clinging to the last threads of consciousness. But it was no use. Darkness swallowed everything.
And then—
He woke up.
In a hospital.
The shock hit hard. He could’ve sworn he’d died. That crash had felt so real. But now… he felt fine. Too fine. Not a single ache in his body.
Am I dreaming?
But this was clearly a hospital room. He was lying in a hospital bed. And if he wasn’t injured, there was no reason for him to be here.
Something felt off.
Disoriented, he sat up and began patting himself down, checking every part of his body. No pain. No bruises. Not even a scrape.
The longer he sat there, the more surreal it felt.
This has to be a dream.
Time passed in a haze until another realization hit him—
He was alone.
Why am I alone?
Where was his mom? Knowing her, she wouldn’t have left him alone. Not out of concern, but to scold him for getting hurt in the first place. She was the type who cared deeply about how things looked to others. No way she’d miss the opportunity to fuss over him in front of strangers.
Maybe she went to the bathroom?
But he’d been alone far too long for that.
He looked around again.
It was a private room. A single-bed suite.
But he wasn’t a critical patient. Why was he in a private room? His mother would never spend extra for something like this.
The weirdness was piling up.
Still frowning, he ran a hand through his hair—and froze.
His hand.
His eyes flew open.
You see your hands every day. They’re the most familiar part of your body. But this hand—
It wasn’t his.
His breath caught in his throat as he examined it closely. The shape, the size, the skin—none of it was right. It was someone else’s hand.
This… isn’t my hand…
Panic surged. His hand shot up to his face. He tried to feel—his eyes, nose, mouth. But touch alone couldn’t confirm anything.
He needed to see.
His gaze darted to the bedside table. There was a smartphone. It wasn’t his, but that didn’t matter. He grabbed it, hands trembling, and turned on the camera.
His fingers shook as he flipped it to selfie mode. And then—he stopped breathing.
Because the face on the screen…
Wasn’t his.
It was a stranger’s face staring back at him.
He quickly switched the camera off, then back on. Again and again. But no matter what he did, the unfamiliar, pale face remained.
His blood ran cold. He felt like he might pass out.
“Doctor! I need a doctor!”
The panic burst out of him. He slammed the call button, hand still trembling. No—his whole body was trembling now.
He waited, trembling with fear and confusion.
Why is it taking so long?!
By the time the doctor finally walked in, he was too wound up to hide his irritation. The doctor, in contrast, strolled in like it was just another slow afternoon.
“Ah, you’re awake now, Guide Lee Tae-rim.”
The unfamiliar doctor looked down at him—not with concern, but with clear annoyance.
What the hell?
He didn’t recognize the man, but the doctor was staring at him like he’d been a personal headache for years.
That wasn’t a face you showed a patient. Was this even the doctor he’d called for?
“Guide Lee Tae-rim!”
He was so stunned, he forgot to tremble—just stared up at the doctor, utterly blank.
Then the doctor called out a name.
A name that wasn’t his.
Is he talking to me? There’s no way… My name isn’t Lee Tae-rim.
His brows furrowed instinctively. The doctor’s smug, dismissive attitude didn’t help, and before he could stop himself, a sharp, irritated response slipped out.
“My name’s not Lee Tae-rim.”
The doctor looked at him like he was talking utter nonsense. So he stared right back, mirroring the same look of disbelief. This was beyond absurd.
Then, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, the doctor let out a dry, exasperated sigh and curled his lips into a sneer.
“If you’re not Lee Tae-rim, then who the hell is? Unreal. What is this—some new kind of amnesia roleplay?”
The hostility in his voice crossed a line. Even the nurse beside him shot a glance like, Is this guy serious?
Something’s seriously off. The thought was there, hovering in the back of his mind. But more than anything, he was pissed.
He squared his shoulders and spoke with a level tone.
“Is this how your hospital treats patients? I’d like to speak to someone in charge. I’ll be filing a formal complaint.”
The doctor scoffed, like it wasn’t even worth acknowledging. Then, with a fine, let’s see how far you want to take this look, he raised his smartwatch and made a call.
His expression tightened.
A doctor using a smartwatch to call someone inside the hospital?
This had to be a dream. It was the only explanation that made sense—because none of this did.
“Team Leader Kim,” the doctor said, his voice thick with sarcasm, “Guide Lee Tae-rim has some complaints about our hospital services. Apparently he’s very serious about filing a report. He even said it with a straight face.”
So the name of this body really is Lee Tae-rim.
The doctor had called him that multiple times—he couldn’t pretend it was a coincidence. And the reflection he’d seen in the smartphone wasn’t his own.
What the hell is this? Some kind of face transplant? High-tech identity switch?
It was absurd. But the whole situation was absurd.
Maybe that’s why, strangely enough, he was starting to calm down. Whether it was a blessing or a curse, he didn’t know.
I’m not me.
This isn’t a movie. This makes zero sense.
There wasn’t even a shred of plausibility in this situation. The only explanation he could cling to was that it had to be a dream.
But then—what was with the title “Guide”?
Was Lee Tae-rim some kind of tour guide? But why would they call him that here, in a hospital?
The more he tried to think it through, the more questions he had—and the fewer answers made sense.
Before long, someone named Team Leader Kim showed up. But he wasn’t any better. He didn’t listen. He didn’t ask questions. He just joined the others in mocking him.
So again, he repeated it.
“I want to speak to the person in charge.”
And weirdly enough, every time he said it, they obliged without hesitation.
Normally, people would try to de-escalate. Handle the complaint themselves. But not here. Every time, they acted like they’d been waiting for him to ask—like they were eager to toss him up the ladder.
They called in person after person, higher and higher, until finally the center director himself appeared.
And even then, he had to argue.
No one—not a single one of them—took him seriously.
He was beyond furious.
What kind of hospital even is this?!
He didn’t care what name they insisted on calling him. If he ever got out of here, he was going to sue them all for defamation—he’d already vowed that to himself a hundred times.
That’s how outrageously rude they were.
He had no idea how many hours passed as the shouting match dragged on.
He said it again and again: I don’t know who Lee Tae-rim is. I’m not him.
Until his voice was hoarse, until the words stopped sounding like real sentences in his head.
But every single person just smirked. Or scoffed. Or outright laughed.
Not one of them believed him.
It was like being trapped in a nightmare.
There was no way this was real.
