Oops! I'm Jeon Jungkook

2 | New body; The tutorial

Jungkook screamed.

It was a shrill, high-pitched sound that echoed through the room. His voice felt wrong in his throat—too soft.. He grabbed the sides of his head, desperately trying to process the situation.

The door to the room flung open with a loud bang. A woman, her face stricken with confusion, rushed in. "Seo-yeon? What's going on? Why are you screaming?" she asked, her voice frantic with concern.

Jungkook froze, eyes wide. This woman—her—was Seo-yeon's mother. And he was in her daughter's body.

"Oh god, oh god," Jungkook muttered, swallowing hard. He blinked rapidly, trying to push the panic aside, but it surged back stronger than before. His voice—her voice—cracked when he tried to speak.

"I—I'm fine, Mom! I... I just had a bad dream, that's all," he stammered, trying to regain some control.

Her mother tilted her head, still concerned. "Are you sure, sweetie? You look a little pale." She reached for his forehead to check for a fever.

Jungkook recoiled slightly, uncomfortable. He couldn't just... be Seo-yeon. He couldn't even think about what was happening to him. "No! I mean—no, I'm fine. Just a bad dream. It's over now," he quickly added with a forced smile, feeling the panic rising again.

Seo-yeon's mother studied him for a long moment, her eyes narrowing in confusion, but then, with a resigned sigh, she nodded. "Alright, well, breakfast is ready. Don't be late for school, okay?"

"Yeah, okay, Mom," Jungkook said, his voice high and squeaky.

The door clicked shut behind her, and Jungkook let out a shaky breath, his chest heaving with disbelief. I need to get out of here. He jumped to his feet, the bed creaking under his weight, and scrambled to the mirror that hung on the wall.

"I need to do something to myself. I can't go out like this"

A girl—a university student, he assumed, given the clutter of books and notebooks scattered across the desk. Her face was softer than his, rounder, her eyes slightly larger, and her lips a shade too pink. The long hair—black, silky, framed the face, now wide-eyed and panicked.

The weight of the situation crashed over him again, and Jungkook's chest tightened. How the hell was he going to get through a day in a body that wasn't his? He barely had time to think. There were classes to go to, and his—her—life didn't stop because some weird freak accident happened.

"Okay. Focus," he muttered to himself, mentally smacking himself out of the haze.

He rushed over to the desk, seeing the pile of makeup products hastily. The brushes were all lined up neatly, as if ready for someone who knew exactly what they were doing. Jungkook, however, was not that someone.

He picked up a small tube of foundation and squeezed a little of it onto his fingertips, then smeared it across his cheeks in big, clumsy strokes. The result was freaky, too much on his forehead and none on his chin. He tried to blend it with his fingers, but it was too messy, and his face was quickly becoming a Van Gogh painting.

Next, he grabbed a mascara wand, unsure of how to use it, and accidentally poked his own eye. He winced as he blinked rapidly, the black smudge now streaked across his eyelids, like a raccoon in distress.

"Ugh!" he groaned, grabbing some tissues and clearing up the mess around his eyes. He looked presentable?

Desperation awaked in him. He grabbed a random lipstick, one he assumed was hers, and hastily applied it to his lips. It was too bright, too bold. The contrast against his face made him look even more weird.