I Like You
The convenience store's automatic door slid open.
Harin headed straight to the refrigerated section, grabbing a bottle of water and two triangle kimbaps.
As she set the items on the counter, the clerk looked up.
A guy in his early twenties. Even back when she was Yoo Hajoon, they'd crossed paths a few times during late-night runs. He'd always scanned barcodes without so much as eye contact.
Beep— beep—
The scanner sounds stopped.
The clerk's gaze locked onto Harin's face.
"…Um."
"Yeah?"
"Do you live around here by any chance?"
"Oh, yeah. Right next door in the apartments."
"Ah… I just thought I'd never seen you before."
As Harin finished paying and reached for the bag, the clerk set it down on the counter instead of handing it over.
"Hey, if you don't mind…"
He pulled out his phone from his pocket.
"Could I get your number?"
Harin's hand froze over the bag.
"…Pardon?"
"I mean, we might run into each other a lot, so it'd be nice to know each other. No pressure if you're not cool with it…"
"No, it's just…"
Harin's mind went blank for a second.
Twenty-four years as Yoo Hajoon, and no one had ever asked for her number. Not at a convenience store. Not from a total stranger.
This clerk was seeing her as a girl—and hitting on her.
Wait. Is this guy actually flirting with me?
"Oh, I…"
"Yeah! If you're okay with it!"
His eyes sparkled with hope.
Giving my number to a guy.
Yoo Hajoon's brain recoiled. Just three days ago, she'd been a guy herself—now some dude was asking for digits.
It was the kind of attention she'd never gotten as Hajoon. Not once.
She almost blurted, I'm a guy…
But she clamped her mouth shut.
Right. I'm a girl now.
"Thanks, but I'm kinda busy."
She barely managed that much.
The clerk's face fell for a split second, then brightened again.
"Ah, well, think about it next time! I'm here every night at this hour!"
"Sure, sure…"
She snatched the bag and bolted out. As the door hissed shut behind her, she caught a murmur: "Wow, she's really pretty…"
Harin stood frozen on the sidewalk, clutching the bag, unable to move for a long while.
A guy almost got my number. A guy hit on me.
She knew this body was female—mirrors confirmed it daily. But being seen as a woman and drawing male interest? That was a whole other level, beyond what any reflection could convey.
…I can't get used to this.
Even in the apartment elevator, unlocking the door, kicking off her shoes, and stepping inside—the convenience store moment replayed endlessly in her head.
She pulled out her phone.
She wanted to message Ian. She was the only one who could understand this bizarre experience.
The typing indicator popped up. Vanished. Popped up again.
Harin's fingers paused over the keyboard.
I can't say it's because I lived as a guy.
Ian's room.
Ian sat on her bed, gripping her phone with both hands.
No dating experience at all.
Information updated.
She opened her notes app and added it under the "Harin" entry.
No dating experience.
As she typed, her lips curved up. She caught it and pressed them together, but the smile lingered.
No one's ever dated her? With that face?
Doubt and relief crashed in together.
Doubt: How could someone as pretty as Harin never have dated?
Relief: That means no one's ever claimed her heart before.
If no one's there, I could be first.
The thought made her heart race.
But the thrill faded fast, overshadowed by something darker.
A male clerk asked for her number?
Harin said no. No meant fine. But she pictured it: the clerk seeing Harin's face, pulling out his phone.
Some random guy smiling at Harin, chatting her up.
Ian's grip tightened.
She hit send, then realized.
Wait, that was too much.
Telling her to switch stores? On what grounds? What was she to Harin?
Ian set her phone down and covered her face with both hands.
I'm losing it… what is this?
She'd spouted nonsense about changing stores, and instead of getting mad, Harin accepted it—understood it.
Wouldn't anyone think that was weird? Three months online, one offline meetup, and "change your convenience store"? It was abnormal from every angle.
…But she accepted it.
Why?
Ian's heart sped up.
Because it's me.
Me.
She brushed it off with a light laugh, treating Ian's over-the-top demand like nothing.
She treats me so well.
Just me.
Ian kept the conversation going.
Didn't look.
No interest.
The typing indicator lingered. A long time.
The cursor blinked after "because I like you."
Her finger had hit the keys first; now her thumb hovered over send.
If I send this, it's over.
Saying I like you would make it weird.
To another girl…
Ian's thumb trembled.
Screw it.
She sent it.
Ian flung her phone onto the bed and yanked the covers over her head.
Done for.
I said I like her. "Because I like you." Straight-up confession. To another girl. After just a few days. Over. Totally over.
She'll be creeped out. No, worse—she'll think I'm a freak. A girl telling another girl "I like you."
She'll ghost me.
The thought choked her. Her chest grew heavy. She could see it: Harin turning cold.
"Ian, this is too much. Let's keep our distance."
Terror at the possibility of that message…
Her phone buzzed.
She fumbled under the covers to grab it.
She checked the screen.
Ian's eyes glued to the screen.
…What?
"I like you too, Ian."
She threw off the covers and bolted upright, clutching the screen with both hands.
Ian stared at the screen, breath held.
Harin had taken her "because I like you" as friendly affection.
Normally, relief. Her true feelings stayed hidden. No confession vibe.
But.
Two emotions surged in her chest: relief—and conviction.
"I like you too, Ian."
Harin had said it.
Context be damned, nuance whatever—"like" came from Harin's fingers. Aimed at her. For her.
Harin likes me too.
Logic said no. Pure friendship context. No romantic read possible.
But.
She said she likes me.
Me.
Likes.
Ian hugged her phone to her chest.
She screenshotted it—"I like you too" captured. Saved to her 'Harin' album. Now the most precious image there.
Ian couldn't look away from the screen.
She said she'll say it more often too.
She flopped back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling with her phone on her chest.
Harin likes me.
Harin likes me.
Harin likes me.
Ian closed her eyes.
Harin's room.
Harin set her phone down and unwrapped a triangle kimbap.
…Are girls usually this expressive with each other?
Ian's "because I like you" stuck with her a bit. As a guy, friends never said stuff like that.
But she'd lived 24 years as a man—only day three as a woman. She had no gauge for girl-friend dynamics: where friendship ended and romance began with "like."
Probably normal for girls.
She'd seen it online as Hajoon: girls casually tossing around "love you," "you're pretty," "like you."
Is Ian just the affectionate type?
She took a bite and decided.
Yeah, normal. First girl friend—I'm the awkward one.
Unaware of the chaos she'd stirred in Ian's heart.