Thugs on the Morning Commute
The morning sunlight was especially irritating today.
Thankfully, Grandma didn't show up in my dreams last night.
Haa.
Time to go to work.
Even in a gender-reversed world, you still have to drag yourself to a shitty company.
I washed my face.
Whew.
Get it together.
I pulled a suit from the closet. It was tailored to this world's Yu Sihyun.
Wearing it, I looked like a high schooler.
Kid looks way too young. Seriously.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and left the house. Locked the door behind me.
My parents said they wouldn't be back until Wednesday.
I boarded the subway.
The morning crowd was busy, everyone rushing somewhere. Every so often, women on their way to work glanced my way — but none of them seemed particularly interested.
Clatter-clatter.
The train rattled and swayed.
"Hey! Watch where you're touching!"
A man's voice.
"I—I'm so sorry. The train shook, and—"
A woman apologized.
"You did that on purpose. Lady! I've been watching you eye me weirdly this whole time."
"No, really. You've got the wrong idea."
People started murmuring.
The woman looked like a seasoned office worker — middle-aged, exhausted, like she'd pulled an all-nighter. The man looked like a college student. His face was plain as fermented soybean paste, but he was dressed like a student.
It was a packed subway car. The train had jolted. Hands could brush against bodies. Was that really something to lose your mind over?
"Call the cops already. Police! She's a sexual harasser caught in the act!"
I hadn't seen exactly what happened. But in my original world, when situations like this blew up, the man was often the one getting screwed over unfairly. Looking at the woman, she seemed thoroughly flustered. Mid-forties, maybe. And the guy claiming harassment didn't look like he planned on letting this office worker go anytime soon — like he'd just landed a jackpot.
"Excuse me, young man. I saw it myself. The train shook, and it looked like the lady just made a mistake. Couldn't you cut her some slack?"
An elderly woman — old enough to be my own grandmother — tried to intervene.
"What the hell?! Defending her just because you're both women? You're in on it too, aren't you, Granny? You are! A couple of perverts, going around groping young guys together. What the hell is this?!"
Other women clearly wanted to help. But no one dared step in — terrified of getting dragged into it themselves. The men just watched. Not their problem. Nobody wanted to stick their neck into something this messy.
"Young man, that's not— I'm sorry. The lady just looked so pitiful. She reminded me of my own daughter, so I wanted to help—"
"Daughter? You fucking bitch. So your daughter's a sexual predator who gropes young guys just like this whore? Both of you are done. Both of you need a nice long stay in prison."
What?
This fucking bastard.
I've been watching. I've been holding back. But talking down to someone old enough to be his grandmother — and insulting her daughter on top of it?
This tiny little shit just crossed the line.
The other women looked furious too. But they were afraid of the law. Afraid of a legal system that only ever favored men.
I gathered strength in my core and bellowed at the top of my lungs.
"Hey! You tiny little fuck!"
Every head in the car snapped toward me.
Was that a bit loud?
But the guy was already rattled — first-strike advantage, mine.
"Wh... what?"
The bastard flinched. Never expected another man to start raising hell, did he?
I wasn't particularly tall myself. But this guy was way shorter than me — barely even 160 centimeters.
If it comes down to it, I'll fight.
I walked toward him. The crowd parted like the Red Sea.
"You fucking bastard. Apologize to the grandmother right now. Have you ever seen such a disrespectful little shit?"
"W-why should I? Why do I have to apologize? She's the one who did something wrong."
This kid has zero sense.
"What exactly did the grandmother do wrong? And where exactly did that lady touch you that you're throwing this tantrum? Look at her — she's clearly exhausted, dragging herself to work. No matter how tired she is, she's out here trying to feed her family. And you're saying someone like that sexually harassed a soybean-paste-faced little shit like you? Hey! Speak clearly. Exactly where did that lady harass you, you fucking bastard?"
"W-well... she touched my shoulder. Her hand brushed my shoulder. It was... it was disgusting."
"You little shit. Her hand brushed your shoulder and that makes it dirty? This is a packed subway. When the train shakes, people bump into each other — they touch! Stop pulling this bullshit."
That was when the guys hanging around the so-called harassment victim started picking a fight.
"Hey, mister. This guy just said he got sexually harassed. Who the hell are you to stick your nose in?"
"Looks like mister here wants a front-row seat in prison with those fucking bitches! You think the world is that easy, you bastard?"
Oh, look at this.
These fucking bastards are all in on it together.
Honestly, up until a moment ago, I'd considered the possibility that the lady might have actually done something. I hadn't seen it myself. I'd only stepped in because that young punk had said things no one should ever say to someone old enough to be his grandmother.
But now I was certain.
These bastards. They were scumbags who framed people for sexual harassment and shook down innocent citizens. The same classic, transparent scam that existed in my original world.
"You fucking piece of shit! You're in cahoots with those bitches, aren't you? Thought you could look down on me because I was alone. You're fucked now, you son of a bitch. Every citizen on this train is a witness. Look! Even complete strangers are stepping up to help me because they can see how wronged I am!"
Complete strangers, my ass. You bastards are running a team operation right now.
"Oh, fuck right off. I've seen countless pieces of shit just like you. The world changes, but the scams stay the same. Scumbags who exploit loopholes in the law to torment decent people. Is that how your parents raised you? I feel sorry for your parents. Having to give birth to garbage like you."
Their faces crumpled properly. In a gender-reversed world, a man talking this roughly was anything but ordinary. Whether they were genuinely pissed or just embarrassed, all three of them went red in the face.
"Ha! This fucking bastard is really asking for it. You piece of shit! Who the hell are you to insult our parents?! That pretty little face of yours is getting rearranged today. Get off at the next stop. Before you die."
The one in the black jacket barked the threat. He seemed to be the ringleader of the three. For a man in a gender-reversed world, he had a decent build — 175 centimeters. A pig. Thankfully, not a muscular pig.
"'Our'? So you're admitting you're a gang that goes around harassing people. Is that right?"
Bullseye.
"Shut up and get off with us. I swear, you're done for today."
By now, the passengers knew the truth. Most of the people on the subway were women. You could see it in their eyes — they all wanted to help me. But the laws of this gender-reversed world were absurdly stacked in men's favor. If a woman stepped in at the wrong moment and a fight broke out, it would be a disaster. Even trading the same insults could land a woman with a fine or a suspended sentence — a permanent mark on her record. Take it to court as mutual assault, and the woman lost a hundred percent of the time. Even if she was getting beaten and simply shoved the man away to escape, it could still count as mutual assault.
"Excuse me, young man. This is all my fault — I'll handle it. Thank you so much for helping. I won't forget what you did for me."
The woman who'd been accused of harassment stepped forward. She was trying to take the heat off me, worried I'd get hurt for standing up for her.
A truly selfish person, even when the mess started because of them, would never take responsibility once the problem shifted onto the person who helped them.
And that was why I was even more certain.
Someone like her would never commit sexual harassment. This was all a trap these bastards had dug.
"Hey now, lady. You should've just said that from the start. Get off at the next stop and we'll settle this nicely. Better for everyone, right? Aren't I right? You lucky little fuck. Next time we catch you, you're actually dead."
"Hey, what are you staring at? Get lost already. I swear I'll dig your eyes out!"
The guy in the black jacket flicked my head with his finger — like he was toying with a plaything.
"I said get lost, you piece of shit. Don't you understand Korean? Did you get so scared you forgot how to speak? You disabled bastard. You think you're so good at fighting? Then come at me. Stop just running your mouth, you son of a bitch."
Huuu.....
I drew in a breath.
Deep.
Deeper.....
In that feminist-rotten excuse for a Korea — no matter how furious I got, no matter how much my blood pressure felt like it would explode, no matter how badly I wanted to flip the whole world upside down — I had always held it in. The world had been on their side.
But now it was different.
The law was on my side. The people were on my side. The world was on my side.
No more.
No more holding back.
Snap.
Something inside me broke.
"Hey! You fucking bastard. You wanna die?"
I grabbed the finger that was still flicking my head.
A heavy silence settled over the subway car. Fights between women happened all the time. Fights between men were rare.
"What? This fucking bastard's all talk. Let go of my finger. Unless you want a funeral right here."
The one in the black leather jacket shot a look at the other two. They surrounded me.
And the soybean-paste-faced kid who'd been cosplaying as a sexual harassment victim threw the first punch.
The fist came at me in slow motion. Slow enough to dodge easily — but I didn't.
Thud!
"Don't regret this. You hit first."
I swung my fist at the soybean-paste bastard without mercy.
CRACK!
My fist landed dead on his left eye. His body tilted and reeled backward.
CRACK! SMACK!
I threw two more punches in rapid succession.
Thud.
The soybean-paste kid crumpled where he stood.
Another one of the bastards surrounding me charged in.
Thwack!
I shoved his arm aside.
Thud!
I drove a sharply pointed thumb up hard under his jaw.
"Ghk! Gaaah!"
As he clutched his throat, I uppercut him clean through the philtrum.
CRAAACK!
The guy who'd been bent over lifted his head in slow motion — then collapsed flat on the floor.
The panicked black-jacket bastard threw a punch. Stronger than the other two.
Thud! Thwack-thud! Thud! Thud!
I blocked his fists with my elbows. Then I drove a pointed thumb into his side. His torso folded forward. I raised my middle finger and smashed it into his face.
CRAAACK!
He toppled backward, shoving people aside as he went.
Tilt. Crash!
Still, he had more durability than his lackeys. He got back up almost immediately.
I dropped my stance. He threw another punch — far less sharp than before. I snagged his wrist and yanked hard.
CRUNCH!
I drove my forehead straight into the bridge of his nose as he came flying toward me.
THUD.
His body crumpled completely backward.
That was when the soybean-paste kid, who'd been down, got up and grabbed me from behind.
I yanked his gripping hand with my right arm, hooked his elbow up over my shoulder, and pulled his wrist down hard.
Crack! Crunch!
His arm twisted the wrong way. The soybean-paste bastard blacked out from the pain, his consciousness snapping clean off.
It had all happened in an instant.
Everyone on the subway stared at me and the soybean-paste gang with wide, stunned eyes. Some passengers were already frantically recording video.