The Dream Day of Research on the Natural Dissipation of PhD and Masculinity
“Congratulations, Dr. Seol.”
Doctor. Ph.D. Anyone who knew the grueling effort required to earn that title would acknowledge it without question. Those were the calm words my advisor professor uttered to me as I stood in the hallway after finishing my defense presentation. Just a simple, understated remark—yet for some reason, it tugged at my tear ducts.
“...Thank you, Professor.”
The moment I heard them, tears slowly welled up in my eyes and trickled down. They say if you don't cry on this day, you haven't suffered enough—and damn if that wasn't true.
“Heh heh, seeing you like this, Dr. Seol... turns out you're human after all?”
Watching me tear up, the professor gently patted my shoulder, tossing in a slightly absurd joke.
“Kuh... Did you think otherwise?”
I wiped away the tears with a chuckle at his quip. That ridiculous line made the rest of them retreat back inside, like they'd been sucked away.
“Of course! Naturally. Do you know when I got my PhD? At 39.”
Thirty-nine. I was 25 now, so that was a 14-year gap by rough math.
“But you're still in your twenties. Incredible...”
The professor gazed at me with a look that seemed to mix resentment at the unfairness—or maybe a touch of bitterness. There was nostalgia for his past, laced with faint envy. Honestly, even I thought it felt unreal. Early graduation from science high school, master's from Seoul National University, PhD from MIT—all by age 25. Who would believe it? But I'd made it possible. And it had actually happened.
The reason was simple: talent. Pure difference in talent. I wouldn't downplay the effort it took, but none of those achievements could have happened without my innate gifts. That's probably why the professor said what he did—he knew the gap.
“Be honest now, Yujin. Even if you confess you're an alien or a reptilian, I'll let it slide.”
But he brushed aside those dark, sticky emotions with a witty joke, revealing just how magnanimous he was.
“Kuh... Can't fool you, huh, Professor...? Now that my secret's out, I can't let you live!”
“Oh no! Please don't kill me...! I have a family to support...!”
Hahahahaha! Laughter echoed down the MIT lab hallway for a good while. It was bright and joyful—anyone hearing it would smile.
“Yujin—or should I say Dr. Seol. You'll come to the graduation party, right?”
“Of course, Professor. I'll drink all the booze at the party.”
“Just leave some for me, haha!”
The professor and I strolled back to the lab with light steps. My vision was sharp. My hearing crystal clear. The sensations on my skin confirmed this reality was real. Yet the dreamlike euphoria lingered, keeping a smile plastered on my face the whole way.
“Ah... my head...”
I woke to sunlight streaming through the window, clutching my pounding skull that felt ready to shatter.
I drank way too much...
I'd gone far beyond my limit—partly from excitement, partly because my labmates were desperate to get me wasted.
Heh heh, this young punk graduates before me? Let's see how you handle your liquor.
No way, Yujin! You have to help with my graduation, my experiments!
Selfish bastard—don't care if the lab goes under?
Stuff like that. Of course, our lab was great, and they were all good colleagues and friends. They were just a bit jealous that I was graduating first while they hadn't. So I had no choice but to force down the drinks our seniors (aka 'master's students') poured me. By the end, it was practically force-fed.
Oof... the booze is churning in my stomach...!
“Pfft.”
Did I chug too much...? I shouldn't be dropping lines like that...
Huh. Wait.
Why do I even know this stuff? Galleries, communities, inbang, memes—I'd never touched any of it. A PhD at 25 wasn't just talent; it meant slicing every minute, skipping meals and sleep, pouring it all into study. So why did I know this? Why these “nonexistent memories”...?
That instant, my already throbbing head exploded into shards—like someone stomping on my brain's nerve clusters. Agony surged.
“----!!”
It was too intense to even scream. All I could do was clutch my head desperately, burrow under the covers, and pray for it to pass.
With the pain came memories stabbing my brain like awls. Memories, memories, memories. Not mine.
Seol Yuna. Twenty-one. Middle school dropout. Orphan. Online forums, communities, inbang, superchats. VTubers, inbang, editors, kirinuki.
Once those memories settled in my mind, the pain vanished like a lie.
“Urp...”
Then nausea hit. I gripped the filthy, crumbling toilet, vomiting everything up until only yellow acidic bile burned my mouth. “...Hah.”
In the mirror: long black hair, deep dark circles—a woman's face. Regrettably, my first thought was that she was pretty. Truly regrettable.
What does it take to become a PhD? It varies by country laws and school rules, but in the US or Korean systems, roughly: bachelor's, master's. Coursework and comps. Pick an advisor, make a research plan. Become the advisor's slave. Research and write thesis. Review and defend.
Explaining in depth is boring and pretentious, so one line: “Study your ass off, grovel your ass off, research your ass off.”
Why do most people—especially grad students—say don't go to grad school? It's just that fucking hard. Papers so dense without background knowledge you can't even read them, let alone understand. (Of course, I understood fine.) Puzzling over one unfriendly problem all day till your head explodes. Daily staring contests with lab data. (I solved them well.) No real status—not student, not worker—so rewards? Jack shit. (I got paid well.) And if your advisor's a twisted asshole? “Oops, hand slipped!”—stamps “FAIL” on your defense, extending slave life. (Mine wasn't.)
Still, people flock to grad school for that fancy degree. And mine? Gone. Vanished. All of it.
“...”
Let me swear for a bit.
“Fuck.”
Important, so once more.
“Motherfucking shit!”
No, keep going.
“This dogshit, cockroach-level, motherfucking—!”
I spewed curses beyond imagination, but the shitty mood refused to budge. Sure, I won't deny my smarts, good environment, and luck made grad life great—but all that effort down the drain? Extremely, profoundly, utterly fucking infuriating.
Like a star-decorated soldier retiring honorably, only to get dishonorably discharged? Or studying 10 years for a job, then AI takes it? Or slaving in an isekai TS after summon, beat the demon king, and poof—back home? Hmm, the last one's closest. Unwanted gender swap and knowledge I never wanted, jammed in my head.
Why the fuck do I know TS isekai returns are out of trend, latest is TS rape pure love? And that's thanks to this body's original owner—ex-owner—who lived like a pro life-waster: shitting up forums daily, binge webnovels, inbang superchats, never stepping outside. Hats off to “Seol Yuna.”
But now that's me?
“Fucking... absolute... bullshit...!”
I wanted to rampage, spew every curse—but this scrawny body (big tits and ass aside) had zero stamina, couldn't even manage that.
“...Fuck.”
Shitty. My well-considered conclusion. Utter dogshit.