Chapter 1: Embracing the Unfamiliar

I admit it. I am not a normal person.

It’s not that I’ve been ignoring it until now. Rather, I’ve faced it and refuted it.

Even when I was deemed mentally unstable in the military, when I grew distant from my friends, and when I fought with my father, I called myself normal.

I labeled anyone other than myself as abnormal.

But I can no longer deny it.

When I see my reflection in the mirror.

When I see my body, which I’ve transformed into a woman, despite denying reality.

Today felt particularly special.

It wasn’t the same air soaked in alcohol and nicotine; it was as refreshing as if a fairy had visited, almost magical.

Feeling a sense of unease in my slightly lowered field of vision, I headed to the bathroom to wash my face.

It was then that I realized the source of my unease.

“…Huh?”

The voice that came out in bewilderment was pure white like a silver bead.

The person wearing slightly baggy pajamas wasn’t me.

Let alone someone I knew.

All the tattoos, branded like marks of self-harm, had been erased, leaving only pure white skin.

The short hair, dyed blonde, was frazzled and burned, resembling ash, flowing down to my tailbone.

“Have I become a woman?”

It wasn’t difficult to confront reality.

The evidence stood before me, so denying it was a tough struggle.

I fidgeted with my body here and there, quickly losing interest and collapsing back down.

“…Huh.”

I just don’t know.

It must be true that I am myself, right?

What are the chances that this is a dream?

As I stretched my soft cheeks, I felt a slight pain.

This isn’t a dream.

What are the chances that I’m genuinely insane?

Thinking this, I began to touch my hair and my body again.

But it was too soft, firm, and realistic to be a body created by my imagination.

There’s no way a woman’s body I’ve never touched could be so vividly manifested.

I don’t know.

In my life, all I have are things I don’t understand.

It wouldn’t be a problem if one more was added to that list.

A notification sound rang from the phone beside my head.

Song Tae-hyun.

He was someone I used to drink with often.

Not feeling like answering as before, I simply waited for the notification sound to end.

After several seconds of ringing, a KakaoTalk notification popped up.

Song Tae-hyun.

• Haven’t heard from you lately. What are you up to?
• Let’s hit the club tonight.
• It’s Friday, after all.

The notification kept ringing, and the messages changed.

I frowned.

It was the first expression I had made since becoming this body.

It’s a crude analogy, but I think friendships are a lot like sex.

When you’re in the moment, you’re intoxicated by the thrill, enjoying the situation.

But once that excitement fades, the person clinging to you becomes bothersome.

Well, I haven’t actually had sex.

That fact comes to me as quite ironic.

Song Tae-hyun – You’re not in some kind of trouble, are you?

…

Reading the next KakaoTalk message made my irritation flare up.

I know. He’s calling without a care because he has no idea what I’m going through right now.

But that’s not my concern.

I’m just… just annoyed.

The situation itself, and the fact that I have to keep responding to this prick if I want to maintain our relationship.

I keep biting my nails, ruining my pretty fingers.

I’m so irritated. So irritated.

Damn, I’m really irritated.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ve always been this irritable, but looking at my current mental state, it makes sense.

After all, I suddenly became a woman; isn’t it a big deal to be a little annoyed?

I have various ways to relieve my irritation. I chose one of them.

I lifted my heavy body and walked to the chair.

Because of the two lumps in front of me, my center of gravity was off, making it hard to keep my balance.

It wasn’t enough to make me fall, though.

With skilled footwork, I turned on the computer.

…

I tried to, but I ended up stubbing my toe against the front of the computer case.

Holding my toe for a moment, I let out a silent scream before pressing the power button.

I had forgotten that my leg length had changed.

I logged into Chrome and accessed my most favorite site.

• DC Inside.

A site with various issues on a blue background.

I entered the post with the highest real-time views.

“Controversy over the prestigious university entrance exam… My girlfriend got a ride from a senior at a drinking party…jpg”

It was a topic worthy of my stage.

The content was just as the title suggested.

“My girlfriend rode in a senior’s car at a drinking party without me. What do you think?

Am I being sensitive? It just bothers me, and I wonder if I’m being pathetic.”

Likes: 33 Comments: 78

“Yeah, you are being pathetic.”

Likes: 29

“There are so many women trying to gaslight these days. LOL. You should cut her off. If she makes her boyfriend feel uneasy, that’s a problem.”

Likes: 12

“Hmmm…”

I understood roughly. It was just a typical post stirring up male-female conflicts.

I skimmed through it and typed according to my thoughts.

As unpleasant and shameful as possible.

I stuffed my emotions into something that doesn’t exist.

A sense of exhilaration and anticipation for what was to come seeped out.

With my index finger,

Enter.

Pong Pong is Sin: “What a fucking slut. 100% she’s had sex. She’s probably pillow-talking with that senior right now.”

I couldn’t help but shake my legs as I kept refreshing the notification window in the upper right corner.

Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh.

Before long, I confirmed that a notification had come in.

User ᄂᄋᄋ(117.111): “Ah, this troublemaker is back again.”

That comment made me smile.

It was the second expression I had made since my body changed.

About ten more notifications came in.

For an ordinary person, this wouldn’t attract much attention, but I’m a well-known fixed nickname.

A flurry of insults filled my screen.

User Nniji (118.111): “Is this idiot seriously here 24/7?”

User ᄂᄋᄋ(112.211): “LOL, this loser shows up every time there’s a post stirring up male-female conflict. His life is a total wreck.”

But it wasn’t just insults coming my way.

User ᄂᄋᄋ(123.133): “But isn’t this guy right? What’s a woman doing getting in a guy’s car late at night?”

User ᄂᄋᄋ(117.211): “LOL. My girlfriend did the same thing and ended up cheating on me.”

User ᄂᄋᄋ(117.122): “The ones cursing Pong Pong are either his ex or currently living with a high-ranking official. Just see it that way. LOL.”

But there are always people who agree, no matter where you go.

I don’t know their psychology entirely.

Maybe they’re like me, wanting to see someone get riled up, or they harbor a vague anger toward women and want to feel superior by degrading their value.

Well, it doesn’t matter to me which side it is. I’m just glad.

They make my replies more concentrated.

The positive responses to me were enough to reignite the fading interest.

User Spicy Beef Soup: “Are these idiots in their right minds? Supporting such trash talk?”

User ᄂᄋᄋ(118.111): “I really feel like DC has gone downhill. LOL. I’m thinking of leaving this place.”

User ᄂᄋᄋ(141.182): “It’s the 29,324th time you’ve said you’re leaving. LOL. Just get lost.”

While enjoying the reactions and constantly refreshing the comment list, one comment caught my eye.

User ᄂᄋᄋ(147.47): “Why do you sound so vulgar? Would you say that to my face?”

“Whoa?”

A voice like a pearl filled the space, where only the sound of the mouse could be heard.

It must be them. The IP confirms it.

User ᄂᄋᄋ (141.111): “Are you gay?”

User ᄂᄋᄋ (222.121): “Ignore him, that guy is just a total loser. You don’t need to engage with him.”

It was the exact situation I desired the most.

A smile stretched across my lips.

Without hiding my exhilaration, I let my voice out and placed my fingers back on the keyboard.

Like a genius pianist in a solo performance, I let my emotions guide my fingers.

Enter.

Pong Pong is Sin: “Ugh… Ah… Oppa… Hah… It feels like I’m about to cum from how deep he’s thrusting… I’m really glad I got on… That guy? Ah… I’ll break up soon… So don’t say anything… I’m just…”

User ᄂᄋᄋ (223.222): “Kekekekeke, this guy is really crazy. Kekekekeke.”

User ᄂᄋᄋ (112.223): “Wow, your words are so fucking awful. Kekeke, you really have a talent for making people feel like shit.”

User ᄂᄋᄋ (226.233): “You fucking bitch, now I’m messed up too.”

“Eek! Ugh!”

Right after that, a wave of pleasure rushed over me, causing me to shrink back and squirm.

Why do I feel pleasure from such things?

Of course, I know that what I’m doing is wrong.

But so what?

I don’t have a value system where justice equals truth. That notion has long since been wiped clean.

I just find joy in their anger at my words.

I roamed the white and blue site once more.

Come on, get angrier.

Let me corrupt your emotions, let me bring you down a notch.