Chapter 7: The day before planting (1)

Part 1

“You look sleepy.”

“Yeah… you’re out early.”

“It’s 6 a.m. Same time as always.”

What? It’s already that late?
Junseok’s voice snapped my bleary eyes wide open.
I fumbled for my phone, and sure enough, the clock ticked to 6:01 a.m., sending a shiver down my spine.
I’d woken up around 5:30, hadn’t I?
So, I’d been slumped at the kitchen table, half-dozing for 30 minutes?

“Everything okay? You’re not suddenly feeling sick or having weird symptoms—”

“No, no, absolutely not. Don’t worry.”

In the end, I’d tossed and turned all night, barely sleeping.
I hadn’t checked the clock, so I wasn’t sure how much time I’d wasted, but it felt like a couple of hours rolling around in bed, wide awake.

“…Alright. You probably have a lot on your mind, but we’re family. If something’s tough, tell me at least. I’ll help however I can.”

“Help? You’re too busy with work. Just get married and move out already.”

If I told him I’d been mulling over why people went crazy over me on the stream, which led to questioning my gender identity and spiraled into “Who am I?”, even Junseok would give me a pitying look.
Besides, I had no intention of mentioning the streaming stuff.

“…I’ll make toast quick.”

“You got time to cook?”

“Go wash up. I’m just toasting bread and spreading jam—done.”

“You’re really not giving up on this breakfast thing.”

“It’s not cooking, it’s preparing. It’s no big deal.”

Even an 8-year-old could make instant ramen, right?
With that thought, I dragged myself out of the chair.
Since I was heating the pan anyway, I grabbed some forgotten frankfurters and eggs from the fridge to cook alongside.
No way I’d send him off with just a piece of bread.

“Haa… this might actually be a bit tough.”

I thought staying up an extra hour or two would be fine, but I hadn’t accounted for exhaustion making me restless despite my good mood.

“After just one day… maybe I should give up on watching streams.”

It was definitely a fresh experience.
Fun, too.
And the inexplicable kindness from viewers had filled something in me, that was true.

“…But I can’t let it mess up my daily life.”

Should I cut back on watching streams?
Maybe just watch on my phone to avoid getting too excited?
No, that defeats the purpose.
I’d just be passively watching Sanghyeon’s stream.

“…I need some sleep.”

“Huh?”

“Tell Mom and Dad I’ll do the dishes when they’re up.”

“…Got it.”

Junseok emerged, hair still wet from washing.
I plated the roughly toasted bread, eggs, and sausages, quickly rinsing the pan to prevent grease from sticking.
His face screamed he wanted to ask if I was really okay, but I pretended not to notice.
His reluctant nod caught my eye.

Part 2

What do I want?

It was a natural question.
Rationally, I knew the answer.
I could just lose interest in streaming like before.
There was no reason to keep poking my nose into Sanghyeon’s broadcasts, no matter how eloquently I justified it.

Even as I drifted into sleep, the thought floated around me.
I knew I was already doomed the moment I started overthinking this.
I knew what kind of attention they were giving me.
I knew what they wanted, but I couldn’t give it.
I knew what I wanted, yet I was compromising in my own way.

Did my body changing mess with my mind so much that I’m thrilled by guys fawning over me?
Why not just throw on the skirts and flowy clothes Sanghyeon bought and strut around outside?

In my hazy mind, last night’s questions spiraled into deeper ones.
Am I clinging to my pride, insisting “I’m still a man,” while craving attention?
The more I dug into my feelings, the less I understood them.
But it was clear they were something ugly and distasteful.

That realization stung.

What stung more was that I couldn’t even purely accept that pain.

What do I want?

I already knew the answer.

This wasn’t self-questioning—it was just self-affirmation.

I woke up around noon.
My tangled hair annoyed me more than usual.
My resolve to cut it grew stronger.

Sanghyeon, waking up late as usual, asked if I’d watch his stream today.
I brushed him off, saying I was too tired.

Part 3

“So, that’s why you came alone today.”

“No, it’s just a checkup day.”

“Normally, one of your parents would come with you. Coming alone suggests you’re grappling with something too heavy to share with family.”

“They were just busy and couldn’t bring me.”

Of course, I didn’t have the nerve to take public transport yet, so I took a taxi to the hospital.

“If you’re going to deny everything, why not be the doctor yourself?”

This guy.
At first, I thought he was just blunt, but maybe he just doesn’t want to work?
With that thought, I shot a sidelong glare at Dr. Kang Young-hoo, who was flipping through my chart with a bored expression.
Last week, my head was still a mess, so I let his attitude slide, but now it struck me—he doesn’t seem very passionate about his patients.

“You told me to share anything bothering me without holding back. I did, and now you’re saying that’s why I came?”

“I know biology, but psychology’s not my thing. If I meddle in something outside my expertise and cause problems, who’s responsible?”

“…That sounds a bit irresponsible.”

“I’d say I know my limits.”

No surprises in the test results.
They’d said my physical changes had mostly stabilized by the time I woke up, and I hadn’t noticed anything significant since discharge.
Eat, wash, sleep—same as always.
Blood tests, urine tests, CT scans—nothing suggested any changes.

“Well… you’re fine, honestly.”

“Good.”

“Not just physically, but mentally too.”

His words made my face crumple.
Was he even listening to my long-winded spiel earlier?

“Are you saying my gender identity confusion is a normal process?”

“Something like that. As I said, your case is relatively mild.”

Another “relatively mild case”?

“You said there aren’t enough samples to draw firm conclusions about this condition, yet my mental state is normal?”

“Roughly speaking, yes.”

“So, a guy who’s suddenly in a woman’s body finding it thrilling to flirt with guys after two weeks is normal?”

I knew my words came out harsh in my agitation, but his tone, which kept poking at my nerves, didn’t exactly inspire calm responses.
No offense to streamers worldwide, but my complicated feelings stemmed from this.

My mind still sees itself as male.
A changed body doesn’t erase memories.
Yet, I felt fulfilled by the vague kindness from last night’s stream.
I didn’t believe it was about human connection or fleeting friendship.
More like a queen bee commanding her drones—that’s closer to how I felt.
I’m not a terrible person, but I didn’t think I was saintly enough to return selfless kindness with the same.

“There was probably a thought like, ‘If I play these people, I could make a ton of money.’
That excitement made me giddy, even thinking, ‘Who cares about gender?’”

“You’re really a good person, patient.”

“…What?”

His sudden interruption caught me off guard, and I let out a dumbfounded sound.
Was he not listening at all?
I couldn’t see how his comment connected to anything I’d said.
The broken flow and incomprehensible words left my already muddled mind even more tangled.

“…What are you talking about?”

“Not many people would worry like this.
Most would shut up, take what they can, and say, ‘I just went with the flow, it’s not my大局

System: my fault.’
What did I do? I was just about to respond when you cut me off!

I stared at Dr. Kang, who casually tossed my chart onto the desk with a familiar gesture.

“Hmm… I don’t like talking about stuff outside my field, but you seem to be stressing yourself out unnecessarily, so I’ll say this: your worries aren’t some complex power struggle or gender identity crisis. Just do what you want.”

“…Huh?”

“Streaming is fun, so you’re watching it. What’s gender got to do with it? And assuming all those friendly viewers are guys—what’s that based on?”

His rapid-fire words shut me up.
It was a bold argument with obvious holes, but it sounded oddly convincing. Like, yeah, maybe that’s true.

“They like you for their own reasons, but you don’t need to lump it all together and over analyze it. Feeling excited by their affection? That’s normal. Who doesn’t like being liked? I’ve never experienced it myself, but popular people are always cheerful, love meeting others, right? Gender doesn’t matter. People are built to enjoy affection.”

He went on about DNA and communal instincts, but I barely registered it. I got the gist anyway.

“That’s the deal. Humans are designed to like affection, and feeling good about fitting into a likable role is just a mechanism for cooperation. Ever felt great wearing clothes that suit you perfectly as a guy?”

“…Yeah.”

“Same thing. Man or woman, when eyes are on you, you unconsciously care about your actions, clothes, gestures. Your brother’s stream is pretty popular, right? Feeling all those viewers naturally makes you self-conscious. If their expectations don’t harm you, you try to meet them.”

His tone still lacked passion, but this brief talk made me think, Well, he’s a doctor for a reason. Oh, the irony of human nature.

“Don’t overthink it. Do what you want. Wear what you want. Eat what you want. Act how you want. Your negative feelings are just you trying to pin your stress on the most dramatic recent event—your gender change and the stream’s attention.”

“…So I’m just stressed and looking for a cause?”

“Your respiratory and immune systems aren’t recovering quickly. Avoid intense cardio. Spring’s coming, so watch out for fine dust. Wash your hands often. Even a cold could hit you hard.”

“…That’s it?”

“You’re just here for a checkup, right?”

You said you don’t talk about non-specialty stuff, but you sure rambled, I thought, swallowing the words.
Feeling a bit dazed, I stood up and bowed slightly.

“…Thank you.”

“Don’t forget to come back next week.”

He’s a doctor, alright, I thought.