Chapter 3: Motivation (3)

Part 5

“He wasn’t always so brash…”

Being turned away at the door sent my fleeting excitement crashing to rock bottom.
Looking back, he was never exactly a dignified brother, but was I really seen as someone it was okay to treat so harshly? Not quite.
Two years apart. Compared to the six-year gap between me and our older brother, it felt trivial, but two years wasn’t something to dismiss outright.

“It’s the length of military service, after all.”

Was it because of my changed appearance? The thought crept in, but I shook my head, trying to push it away.
He was never the warm, affectionate type to begin with. He probably just needed time to adjust, like I did.
I forced myself to hold back the negative mood creeping in.

After finishing the dishes, boredom settled in again.
There wasn’t much else to do.
I wasn’t big on watching TV, and while I had a smartphone, I’d never been into mobile games or anything like that.
PC games? I’d only play something like League at a PC bang when friends dragged me along.
I didn’t have the confidence to dive into that complex, competitive world alone, so I could safely say I never gamed by myself.

How did I used to pass the time?
Now that I thought about it, nothing impactful came to mind.

“Betting shops… PC bangs… eating out or hitting a bar…”

All places I only went to when someone called me up.
I’d been living pretty passively, hadn’t I?
A vague anxiety, cold and creeping, ran down my spine at the thought that I couldn’t do anything in this state.
The problem wasn’t just the lack of things to do.

“…Haa.”

If a problem starts cropping up, it’s only logical to look for the cause in the changes that happened during that time.
The most drastic change in my recent, aimless days was, of course, myself—my appearance.
It was only natural to start blaming every issue on my changed body, wasn’t it?

“Destructive self-denial… huh.”

Back when I hadn’t fully grasped the situation, I’d thought, “Is it really that big a deal?”
My appearance had changed.
My gender had changed.
The relationships I’d built couldn’t stay the same as before.
The four days I spent in the hospital after waking up were far too short to process all that.
I’d felt embarrassed for sulking and being moody for three days, but now I realized those three days only ended because of a vague sense of reality.

Another sigh escaped me.
My thoughts were spinning in circles, like a hamster on a wheel.
I wasn’t thinking about dying or anything, but if this stress kept piling up, would I eventually start having those thoughts?

I glanced at the clock.
It was just past 8 p.m.
The sound of my brother’s lively stream grated on my ears, a jarring noise that dragged my already sinking mood even lower.

“…Maybe I’ll just sleep.”

I’d heard sleeping too early wasn’t good for you, but staying awake like this, I couldn’t tell how far my mood would plummet.
I wasn’t sleepy, but I’d force myself to sleep.
I’d sleep, wake up with a clearer mind, and go over today again.
Surely, I’d be able to laugh it off, thinking, “What’s the big deal?”

With listless movements, I shuffled to the bathroom.
Locking the door, I tossed my clothes one by one into the laundry basket by the sink, a wave of embarrassment hitting me.
The functional shirt and shorts weren’t exactly gendered clothing, but the shoulder-to-waist ratio, the waist-to-hip proportions, the unusually narrow hem—they all screamed attention to detail.
I realized, “Mom picked these out carefully,” and at the same time, “These are women’s clothes, aren’t they?”

“Ugh…”

A flush of embarrassment.
A tight, hot knot twisted in my chest, like a tangled thread.
For the past week, I hadn’t thought much of it, but now that I was conscious of it, it felt like I shouldn’t have been so nonchalant.
My face burned.
What if someone thought I’d been walking around cross-dressing?
Who? Anyone.

With a groan, I turned away from the laundry basket.
The full-length mirror I’d forgotten about reflected my figure, clad only in underwear.
I’m so short now.
I used to be over 170 cm, but now, maybe 160?
My hair’s growing fast—it’s gotten longer in just a week.
My chest? Wow, my chest.
It’s a bit small, but still…
I’m wearing panties, so why no bra?
Is it perversion?
Is a bra unnecessary for this size?
Come to think of it, these are boxer briefs—drawers, right?
Chosen after endless compromises with my parents.
But they’re so snug, they show my outline, which feels a bit risqué—

“…Ugh.”

I almost asked, “Who are you?”
The heat rushing to my face made me dizzy.
I stumbled toward the shower, turning the lever to hot water.
The initially cold stream quickly warmed to an almost scalding temperature.

“…What am I doing?”

No answer came, of course.
In this incomprehensible situation, where the questioner and the answerer were the same person, there could be no response.

I sank into the empty bathtub.
Holding the showerhead, I let the water soak me from my neck down.
My unknowingly chilled body warmed up in an instant.

Part 6

“Uh… hey, Sis.”

“…Aren’t you streaming?”

“No, I mean, uh…”

As I stepped out of the bathroom, Sanghyeon suddenly spoke to me.
His room’s door was open, and the glow leaking out suggested his computer was still on.
While I roughly towel-dried my damp hair, he avoided my gaze, lips twitching hesitantly.
Was there something hard for him to say?

“Uh… I’m sorry about earlier.”

Long hair is such a hassle.
It doesn’t dry easily.
If I ever feel like going out, I’ll need to cut it first.
His voice caught me while I was lost in those thoughts.

“…What?”

“I know you’re going through a tough time, and I know you’re trying to act friendly despite it.
But, you know, there are some weirdos in my stream.
I was worried they’d say something stupid, and you’d get the wrong idea… anyway, yeah?”

I had to tilt my head up to meet his eyes—he was so much taller now.
His build was incomparable to mine.
If we roughhoused like we used to, half-joking, half-serious, I’d probably go flying.
The gap in our physicality was hopeless.
I figured his sudden attitude came from this changed appearance.

“…You were worried about me?”

“Not exactly like that.
You’re probably confused right now, so I thought it’d be better to avoid anything shocking.
I wasn’t mad or kicking you out or anything…”

A laugh, like air escaping a balloon, slipped out.
Gripping the towel I’d been drying my hair with, I swung it like a whip at his side.
Smack!
The damp towel made a crisp, refreshing sound.

“Ow!”

“Don’t be a baby, it didn’t even hurt.”

“I’m trying to say something nice, why are you hitting me!”

“You’re so smooth-tongued on stream, but you’re stammering like a fool in front of me.”

He mumbled something like a complaint but let out a heavy sigh instead of saying anything clear.
His “I’ll let it slide” attitude was so funny that I let out a stifled chuckle.

“…Anyway, thanks for cleaning up the dishes.
Come by and watch my stream sometime if you want.”

“Really?”

“As long as your face doesn’t show.
That’s non-negotiable.”

“Alright, alright.
Everything our Sanghyeon says is right.”

“Ugh, seriously…!
Fine, I’m going back to streaming.”

Instead of replying, I whipped the towel at his side again with a smack.
Judging by his pouting lips, it didn’t seem to hurt much.