Ivy wondered if this was heaven, but she immediately banished the thought.
It didn't make any sense.
She wasn't religious, and she was pretty sure heaven didn't accept people who had died in the middle of public masturbation. That had to be an automatic disqualification. One that would likely have her sent straight to the other place.
'Though I doubt hell is decorated this nicely,' she thought.
Maybe the truck had put her in a coma and this was some weird brain-injury-induced dream…
Her eyes caught on something across the room. It was a full-length mirror mounted on the far wall, and angled to face the bed. She could see herself in it, bent down on all fours on the massive bed.
Except… that wasn't her.
Ivy went very, very still.
The woman in the mirror was a stranger. She had the same panicked expression Ivy was wearing, the same wide eyes and parted lips, but everything else was wrong. Her hair fell in golden waves past her shoulders. It was not the dark brown curls Ivy had spent years learning to manage. Her face was different. She had softer cheekbones, a smaller nose, and fuller lips. She was objectively gorgeous in a way Ivy had never been, and she looked like she belonged on fashion magazine covers.
But she wasn't Ivy.
"What the hell?" Ivy breathed.
The woman in the mirror mouthed the same words.
She sat up to her knees slowly. The stranger did the same.
Ivy raised her hand. The stranger raised hers.
Ivy touched her face, the stranger's face, and felt soft skin.
Panic exploded in her chest. She threw off the sheets and stumbled out of the bed, her legs tangling in the fabric of a nightgown that was different from the floral dress she had worn to the game.
The floor as she stepped off the carpet was cold against her bare feet. She rushed to the mirror, her hands reaching out to touch the glass.
The stranger reached back.
Her brown eyes were the only familiar thing. Everything else was completely different.
Her body especially…
Ivy looked down, then back at the mirror, then down again.
"Are you kidding me?!" she shrieked, her hands cupping her chest. "They're smaller!"
Maybe she was being a bit ridiculous. The breasts she was currently holding were easily a C-cup, maybe even a D. They were perfectly proportioned, and exactly the kind many women would be thrilled to have. But Ivy had been born with even better boobs, and she had made peace with the back pain and expensive bra shopping.
'Or maybe this isn't so bad?'
"This is insane," she muttered, running her hands down the silk nightgown that clung to curves that weren't hers. "I've lost my mind. I'm dead and crazy, or I'm—"
'DING!'
The sound cut through the air and she jerked backward, her heart hammering, as something appeared in the air in front of her.
A screen.
A glowing, translucent, screen floated in midair like something out of a video game. Text scrolled across it in a cheerful font that made her eyes nearly twitch.
[Degenerate Host has awakened]
'Degenerate?'
"What the—?!"
Horror crashed over Ivy in a cold wave. She stumbled backward, her heel catching on the nightgown's hem. Her arms waved uselessly in the air as she lost her balance and went down hard, her ass hitting the hard floor with a thud.
The screen followed her, hovering at eye level like some kind of sadistic notification.
[This system has seen Host's browser history.]
[(·•᷄_•᷅ )]
[This system is not surprised by Host's manner of death.]
Ivy's mouth dropped.
Then she shook her head and dragged herself back across the floor until her back pressed against the side of the bed.
The screen followed her.
"I am hallucinating. I am dead and hallucinating or I have lost my…"
But even as she said it, a strange thought crept into the edges of her panicked mind. A memory of late nights scrolling through webtoons on her phone, and reading translated web novels when she should have been sleeping. Stories about people who died and woke up in different worlds, usually with some kind of system to guide them.
Transmigration stories. Isekai. Whatever she wanted to call them.
She shook her head.
"No. No, that is fiction. Fantasy. Such a thing does not happen in real life."
The screen flickered, and new text appeared:
[Correct! Host has read such stories. This makes explanation much easier!]
[ദ്ദി◝ ⩊ ◜.ᐟ]
She stared at it, stunned speechless for a few moments.
"You can read my thoughts?!"
[This system can access surface thoughts, yes]
[Very useful for dealing with dense hosts]
[Fortunately, Host seems adequately intelligent]
[A refreshing change from the previous occupant]
"Previous occupant?" she whispered weakly, still unable to believe she was talking to the air like a mental patient.
The screen shifted, expanding slightly, and more text rolled across it in that same obnoxiously cheerful font.
[WELCOME TO YOUR NEW LIFE, HOST!]
[In case you are wondering. You died]
[Yes, really died]
[No, you cannot go back]
[Yes, the video of your shameful demise went viral]
[47 million views and counting. Very impressive!]
[Please banish all thoughts of returning to your old life. This is your reality now.]
Each word felt like a punch to the gut. Dead. She was actually dead.
And there was no going back…
The video… 47 million views…
Ivy's face paled as she realised just what that meant.
[But as the degenerate you are, you should cherish this second chance!]
[You have been granted transmigration to a new world with new opportunities!]
[Try not to waste this one with equally embarrassing decisions]
"I… I am not a degenerate," Ivy said weakly, her voice trembling.
[Host died with a silicone penis inside her body after being caught masturbating in public]
[(·•᷄ࡇ•᷅ )]
[This system stands by its assessment.]