Chapter 48: Suspension of payment (9)

Part 21

“…Ugh.”

The nagging lower back pain made me wince. Even sinking into the soft couch, the throbbing persisted, making it impossible to find a comfortable position. It was better than this morning, but the sharp, lingering pain kept my brow furrowed.

“A whole week of this…?” I muttered.

It hadn’t even started yet. If I was this bad before, what would it be like when it really hit? Irritation flared again. I knew I was being overly sensitive, reacting sharply to everything, but my emotions refused to cooperate. Was this what a second puberty felt like? The calm I’d always taken for granted was a distant memory now.

Irritation. Frustration. Was this why people said you need extra care during “that time of the month”? I didn’t want to learn it this way.

“…Haa.”

Hugging my arms, I curled up, burying my face in my knees. If it was worry or fear, I could handle it, but this irritation was the problem. Sanghyeon was just being himself, but I was the one overreacting. The thought looped endlessly in my mind, only fueling more frustration.

The TV’s sound turned to meaningless noise. Or maybe it had been that way for a while—I couldn’t tell. Music, variety shows—nothing registered when my mind was elsewhere.

Knowing it was pointless, I grabbed my phone. The search history for terms I’d looked up countless times scrolled up. Hoping for something new, I sifted through the same old results.

“Meditation, deep breathing,” I mumbled.

As if I hadn’t tried. I got that mental factors played a big role, but if willpower alone could fix this, why did psychiatrists exist? I shut off the internet in a huff. Staring longer would only make me angrier. Though, knowing me, I’d probably be back at it soon, hoping for a miracle.

“…Haa.”

It’s not like I’d never been stressed before. Since my appearance changed, stress had been constant. Books and music used to pull me together, but if those didn’t work, what could I do to shake this off?

“Happy thoughts… happy thoughts…” I whispered.

Call the four friends? No, that’d just lead to awkward tension. We’d learned over years that friends aren’t emotional dumping grounds. We offered care but expected it in return.

Family? No way. They’re all working. I couldn’t just call them up whining about feeling bad—not when I’m just loafing around.

The doctor? Probably off work by now. He’d likely say, “Psychiatry’s not my field.” Hearing that tone right now might make me snap.

“Arghhh!” I groaned, pounding the couch with clenched fists.

Why were relationships so exhausting? Wasn’t there someone, somewhere, who’d accept me as I am—irritable, crying, whatever—without judgment? A safe haven?

“…Oh.”

The thought made me freeze. My arms, mid-swing, went limp. Wait. I hadn’t checked, but I had a gut feeling there might be people like that.

“…No, no, no. Come on.”

What I wanted, boiled down, was to do whatever I felt like—vent, snap, act out. A destructive urge that’d burden others but couldn’t be handled alone.

“Ugh.”

At my age, that was embarrassing. I nodded to myself, alone. I wasn’t a middle schooler in puberty. I’m upset, so I need someone to deal with it! No way. Absolutely not.

Part 22

The stream’s mood turning somber felt inevitable. Yoonseo had become a fixture in Cheungjeokun’s broadcasts, adding a calm, comforting vibe to his usual high-energy chaos. Her absence, coupled with the vague “personal circumstances” excuse, wasn’t something viewers—who knew about her past struggles and less-than-robust health—could brush off lightly. The excitement over her “new side” faded, and as time passed, the stream grew noticeably colder.

“…I know it’s weird to say this now,” Cheungjeokun started.

He knew it wasn’t as serious as the viewers thought, but that didn’t ease his frustration. The reason for her mood was clear, and temporary. The problem? It wasn’t something you could blurt out to hundreds of people, even if she was family.

“It’s not as big a deal as you’re all worrying about… probably,” he said.

• Yo, Cheung, don’t try to hype things up. Just play the game…
• Cheungjeokun-nim… today, please, just shine…

“I’m always doing great, and I’m killing it today too,” he said.

Her past as a guy, her identity struggles—was “period” even a word you could just throw out there? The urge to yell, My sister’s on her period! was barely held back by his self-control.

How would I know what it feels like or how it’s treated? His silent struggle churned inside, formless and voiceless.

Then—

“Playing League again today?” a voice cut in.

Startled, Cheungjeokun nearly shouted “Hyung” but clapped his hands over his mouth. What? I’ve been keeping my voice down. Did I get loud again without noticing?

“Nuna?” he said.

“What? I’m just here to watch, like usual.”

Swap chairs, I want the comfy one. Her request, closer to a whine than her usual tone, caught him off guard. He forced a smile, nodding quickly, and stood so fast his knee banged into something with a thunk. Shock dulled the pain.

• Nunabbattajo!!!!
• Nunabbattajo… is something wrong? You seem different…

“Different…?” Yoonseo said.

She pulled the empty chair over and sat, her lips curling faintly. It resembled her usual smile, but her hardened gaze gave it a cold edge. The chat, buzzing moments ago, froze at the sight.

“Just dealing with some stuff,” she said.

The unfamiliar vibe silenced the chat. Someone, anyone, drop an ‘hnnng’ or something, the viewers seemed to plead, but the tension only stiffened further.

This wasn’t her usual self. The mix of worry and unease overshadowed any novelty. Normally, her responses—What does that mean? I don’t get it, but okay. A compliment? Thanks…—were predictable. Now, no one knew how she’d react.

“…Why’s the chat so quiet today?” she asked.

“Uh, well, Nuna…” Cheungjeokun stammered.

“What’s going on?”

Her sharp, almost accusatory tone and narrowed eyes were new, even after a month of knowing her like this. Cheungjeokun, equally thrown, inched his chair away as she pressed him.

“Um…”

“What’s going on?” she repeated.

The viewers, silently watching, wondered if this was the real her—usually so gentle, now sharp.

“…I told them you weren’t feeling great and wouldn’t be on today,” he said.

“Not feeling great?” she echoed.

“You’re not, right?”

A brief pause. Twirling a strand of hair, she seemed to think before speaking curtly.

“…Yeah, I’m not.”

• If you’re not feeling well, go rest!!!!
• Did you go to the hospital, Nunabbattajo…?
• Don’t be sick!!!!

Her blunt, almost dazed reply carried a hint of her usual self. Like a spark, it ignited the chat, flooding with worried messages. Her eyes blinked slowly, surprised.

Her lips parted, then closed, as if about to speak. Her brow stayed furrowed, but the smile that followed felt different, softer, to both the viewers and Cheungjeokun.

“…Idiots. It’s not that bad,” she said, letting out a small laugh.

It was a gentle jab, quintessentially her.