Chapter 13: There’s No Way This Could Be True.

Shaa—

Hot droplets of water race down my pale skin one by one.

Who will fall to the floor first? Who will slip into the drain first?

Plop… Plop, plop…

Somehow, it feels like the water droplets are moving faster than before. Is it just my imagination?

Well, my skin is incomparably softer than before. Maybe that’s why.

“Hmm…”

The third droplet catches up with the first one.

They merge, forming a larger drop, moving even faster.

As more and more droplets combine, they become a single stream—

Splash.

And eventually, they disappear, absorbed by the damp floor.

“Hehe.”

Why am I thinking about a water droplet race while showering instead of worrying about my broadcast? I have no idea.

Then again, I’ve pretty much given up on yesterday’s stream, so it doesn’t matter.

Reality is always different from practice.

Even the lines I rehearsed thousands of times made my heart tremble when I had to say them.

I wondered if I had even practiced at all.

The responses I gave were worse than the worst-case scenarios I had imagined while practicing with GPT.

“Sigh… I should’ve at least worked on my pronunciation a bit more.”

To be honest, I must have come across as a total social outcast.

My pitch was shaky, I stuttered, and if a question caught me off guard or piqued my interest, my voice got louder.

A textbook outsider.

If I rewatch it, I’ll die of embarrassment.

It’s terrifying. Facing my own mistakes head-on is already bad enough.

But if those mistakes were made in front of 100,000 people…

I don’t even have the courage to check the reactions in Korean or Japanese communities.

What if people say I was just selling my misery for sympathy? No, they will say that.

I knew exposing my most tragic past might stop the witch hunt.

So I revealed quite a lot.

Just saying, “I had a tough life,” wouldn’t have been enough, so I shared stories I never even told Kyuseok.

As far as Kyuseok knows, I only dealt with bullying and domestic violence.

Of course, I had to tone things down a bit. Otherwise, people would accuse me of lying.

For example, when I was beaten and nearly bit off my tongue from falling, I just said I tripped.

The blood-soaked memories? I just said I was an orphan.

As for my brother—the main culprit behind it all—I’d rather just forget about him.

Lately, I haven’t even thought about that bastard.

Maybe I really can forget him someday…

“Wait. Shit—”

I just remembered.

I knew today felt too lucky…!

My brother. Kang Shimjeong.

The person who was supposed to be my guardian after our parents died.

A life born not from my father’s seed, but from another man’s.

I wish he had just disappeared from my life forever.

A man who ruined my life with his incomprehensible actions.

No sense of humor, no knowledge of trends—just a boring, lifeless person.

If there was anything remotely funny about him, it was…

“Pfft. At least his name suits him…”

How the hell did a 13-year-old plan an escape overseas?

And he abandoned his 5-year-old brother in an orphanage before running away alone.

Guess he really does have a strong heart (Shimjeong).

Where did he go again? Russia?

I heard he learned wrestling there and trained in Ukraine and Brazil too.

“…Yeah, now that I’ve remembered, it’s pissing me off.”

Like a flood of unwanted memories, the sensation of water droplets hitting my skin suddenly became way too real.

The bathroom, which I thought only smelled like water and disinfectant, was now a mix of lime and peach.

The lime must be from my body wash. The peach… must be my natural scent.

My natural scent…

Kyuseok used to tease me, saying I smelled like barley tea.

But now, I reek of fresh, sweet peaches.

He has no idea what I look like now.

…This is a huge problem.

“Wait. He’s coming to Korea?!”

He was living just fine in the U.S.—why the hell is he coming back now?!

Forget everything else—what am I going to do about my appearance?!

Look, Kang Shimjeong isn’t some pervert who’d lust after his own family just because I changed.
I’m sure of that.

I mean, I don’t even know if that guy has any sexual desires.

He got hit there during matches and just kept fighting like nothing happened.

The real issue is explaining to that stubborn asshole that I, Kang Suhyeon, am the same person.

If I don’t say anything and he just shows up at my door?

I’ll get my leg snapped in half by a calf kick on the spot.

I’m sure of that.

There’s no way he’d recognize me in this body.

“…I’m screwed.”

It’s been a week since he sent that message, so he’s either already here or on the plane.

For him, “soon” means one week or less.

It’s too late to send some long explanation.

Damn it. I need a sure-fire plan…

“…Wait. There is one way.”

The fog on the mirror cleared, revealing a breathtakingly beautiful girl staring back at me.

Droplets of water glistened in her hair.

A single stream of water traced down her body—stunning.

And outside the bathroom… my phone.

I’ll send him a picture.

“This plan is perfect!”

I’ll message him from the same number we were using last week.

Tell him my appearance has changed.

With clothes on, obviously.

If I put on some random outfit and take a quick snap, he might actually believe it.

I mean, even that stubborn bastard wouldn’t deny reality, right…?

“Hoo…”

Meanwhile, on a plane to Korea—

A man reclined in his seat, swirling a glass of wine.

The airline seat, designed to fit all passengers comfortably, seemed to scream under his weight.

193 cm.

His physique wasn’t something you’d easily find in a typical Korean.

His body, thoroughly trained and hardened, was packed with dense muscle.

Even in loose clothing, his form was obvious.

WFC Middleweight Champion. Kang Shimjeong.

A powerhouse known for his deadly kickboxing and elite wrestling.

A Undefeated Champion.

His ring name? Pés como Mentiras.

Portuguese for “Feet Like Lies.”

A name he picked up while training in Brazil.

He got it from something Soohyun had said when he was three.

“Hyung, your feet are like lies. Every time you kick something, it disappears.”

A three-year-old saying that…

And an eleven-year-old thinking, “Oh, I should use that as my ring name.”

Maybe neither of them were normal.

But since Soohyun insists he’s more normal than his brother, let’s leave it at that.

Ding!

“…Hmm?”

A message notification.

Only one person has sound notifications enabled.

Soohyun.

For the first time in years, his little brother sent him a message first.

Shimjeong smiled as he opened it, excited to see what it was.

[Attached: A photo of a beautiful girl awkwardly flashing a V-sign]

[Soohyun: Hyung, I became a girl.]

“…Huh?”

His smile froze.

For the rest of the flight, Shimjeong sat there, completely speechless.

Even when his coach asked if he was okay—no response.

Walking to baggage claim, Shimjeong muttered under his breath.

“Soohyun…?”

His little brother had lost his mind.