Convenience Store
The world I'd landed in was a reversed one, where the male-to-female ratio sat at one to nine. And it wasn't a simple flip of the numbers, either.
Women had been standardized upward. Men had been standardized downward.
The downward slide had gone so far that the old-world phrase "trophy heroine" now fit the men of this place better than anyone else.
It's a polygamous society, so I guess they're shared trophies, but still…
Looks, physical ability, intelligence—everything had dropped. Only a tiny handful of men still held jobs. Most of them locked themselves indoors and lived out their lives under a woman's protection.
"And that woman is their mom, or their older sister, or their little sister… Is this for real? Does any of this make sense?"
I clutched my throbbing head and let out a long sigh. I spent another hour digging through information after that, and the more I found, the sharper the picture became.
I leaned back against the sofa and stared at the TV, still on. I'd had enough of the news, so I flipped to another channel.
Every face on screen was a woman's. And every last one of them was stunning. Even the people being roasted as "ugly" on variety shows were prettier than most actresses back home.
"For me, this is a good world. It's not like I hate women—I like them. And on top of that, men get every kind of perk."
A glance at the bank account confirmed it: the government deposited a million won in living support every month. Money paid out for no reason except being male.
That wasn't all. Under the so-called Male Living Support Policy, they'd built an entire system of special treatment. Thanks to that, I could rent this spacious duplex studio in Seoul with no real job and get by on a million won a month.
Even so, something uneasy sat in my chest. Why? Why did it feel so stifling? I turned it over in my mind until a line from the TV made it click.
"So that's why there are still no men, unnie—even after pouring that much money into it!"
"Is that it… So that's what it was."
Being an orphan, I'd been forced into thankless sacrifice more times than I could count. I knew exactly how that kind of sacrifice ate at a person, how heavy it made everything feel.
When I couldn't take it anymore, I could quit and find other work. The women of this world had to live like that for the rest of their lives—for men they never even met, or for men who, when they did meet them, answered with verbal abuse and, in the worst cases, violence.
But there was nothing I could do. No power, no money. What was a guy like me supposed to accomplish when the only thing keeping him alive was the scarcity of being male?
"Haa… Food first."
Lunchtime was already creeping up. Whatever came next could wait until after I ate. I went to the kitchen and opened the fridge and the cupboards. Both were empty.
Just in case, I ran a finger along a shelf—and it came away coated in a pale film of dust. Good lord. The cupboards weren't gray. They were white!
"What am I even doing?"
The shock hit hard enough that for a second I genuinely didn't know what had happened. I rinsed my fingers at the sink and climbed up to the loft.
"This freeze-to-death aesthetic. Duplexes are a pain in the ass, seriously."
Hauling myself up and down the stairs every time was murder. I was going to have to move the wardrobe down to the first floor.
I was already in gray sweatpants with a white stripe and a plain black long-sleeve, so I only grabbed a coat. On the table by the bed sat a wallet. Inside: an ID card, a male registration certificate, and a single credit card. That was it.
"Male registration certificate? Is this that thing?"
At fifteen, every man had his sperm tested and was assigned a rank. Benefits scaled with the grade—and so did the obligations piled on top of the higher ones.
"Let's see… what rank am I…? Rank 1… Rank 1!?"
I never expected to be sitting at the very top. I tugged my waistband down for a quick check, then nodded in full acceptance.
"Okay. Fair enough!"
Who knew it'd be bigger than mine used to be. After that little episode, I stuffed the wallet and my phone into my coat pockets and headed out.
In the short stretch between my door and the convenience store, my stomach started making its opinions violently known.
It had been a long time since it complained this hard—not since I was a kid. Apparently this world's version of me hadn't been eating properly either.
Looking at how skinny this body is, yeah. That tracks.
With no way back to my original world, I was going to have to live in this body for the rest of my life.
"Haa…"
The thought of starting my workouts over from scratch dragged a sigh out of me on its own. Of course I'd get to go through building a body all over again. I was so thrilled I wanted to sprint full speed and scream about it.
The studio neighborhood was quiet—weekday quiet. It wasn't empty, but most of the people I saw looked like college students.
The nearest convenience store was about five minutes away. The whole way there, I could feel women's heavy gazes clinging to me without a break.
Weren't women supposed to be the ones sensitive about people staring at their chests? If you were good-looking enough that people looked without thinking, a man could absolutely end up on the receiving end of the same thing.
But having every single person on the street stare like this? That never happened.
So this was what the diary had been talking about. If you'd grown up under eyes like these from the day you were born, yeah—I could see how you'd end up thinking that way.
Doesn't really apply to me, though.
The staring was a little much, sure, but every one of them had the kind of face that would've earned "she's hot" comments back in my world, so it didn't feel bad. If anything, it felt good.
The upward standardization really went hard.
Pretty, cute women looking at you delivered its own kind of satisfaction. Even after I'd already passed, I could still feel them watching from behind—but back home, people on the street used to look twice all the time too.
All of it was because I was handsome. I mean, of course I was handsome… Shit, I want to punch myself for saying that out loud. I am not a narcissist.
And right now I wasn't handsome anyway. I was cute.
Why is everyone so tall, though?
No one came close enough for a clean comparison, but they seemed taller on average than the women from my old world.
Or did I just get shorter?
No idea. Maybe both.
So I walked the sidewalk-turned-runway, feeling everyone's attention like a spotlight. The strange part was that with staring this intense, you'd expect someone to come ask for my number or at least strike up a conversation—and no one did.
Another difference in perspective that came with the world swap? Women's libido had been called a social problem, so maybe there was even a law against approaching men.
Bathed in those burning stares, I reached the convenience store. CS24. The name felt like two chains had been smashed together.
Apparently this world didn't allow cigarette ads visible from outside either—the glass door was frosted. I pushed it open, and a woman drowned in exhaustion started her greeting.
"Welcome… Hic!?"
She'd been deep in restocking, like a delivery had just come in. The second she turned her head and saw me, she hiccuped.
I'd startled people before whenever I ducked into convenience stores or public facilities, but never this hard.
Her eyes were huge and her mouth hung open, and somehow she still managed to look moderately pretty. Dry black hair and heavy dark circles under her eyes only added a kind of decadent charm.
Watching a woman like that freeze in shock felt better than I expected.
Have I always been this much of an attention junkie?
I tilted my head and tried to examine myself, but of course no answer showed up. Probably just because she was a cute girl.
I dropped the idle thoughts, picked up the canned coffee she'd dropped—it had rolled all the way to my feet—and walked over.
"Here."
"Th-thank you…"
When I handed her the can and our fingertips brushed, her face flushed as if someone had painted it red. The look was so entertaining I suddenly wanted to mess with her a little.
"Catching a cold? The weather's been rough lately—take care of yourself."
I put on a worried face and laid my hand against her forehead. Not that I actually thought she had a fever. Pure teasing.
In my old world, resting a hand on a stranger's forehead would've been risky. Here, it wasn't. A beautiful woman putting her hand on a convenience store clerk's forehead wouldn't make social waves—and in a world this short on men, liking it was far more likely than making it a problem.
"Y-yeheh…"
She'd gone so red it looked dangerous, completely checked out. I left her like that and started browsing for what I needed.
Even with the world changed, a lot of the brands matched the ones from home. Trying to make sense of that was a mistake. Was crossing into another world supposed to make sense in the first place? Better for my mental health to just let the small stuff slide.
Two convenience-store lunch boxes and five cup ramyeon. Drinks and a few snacks… no, quite a lot of snacks.
One thing after another, and before I knew it I'd grabbed too much, so I went back for one of the baskets by the entrance and loaded everything in.
"That'll be 33,400 won. C-card, or cash…?"
She'd finally pulled herself together enough to make it back to the counter, but looking at me still turned her face red.
"Card, please."
I took the card from my wallet and held it out. The reader was on the customer side, so normally I would've swiped it myself—but she accepted the card without a word.
Of course, when she took it, I angled my hand just enough to make sure our fingers touched again.
"Hik! Th-thank you so much!!"
This clerk reacted to every little thing. I could get addicted. For someone who looked a little worn and decadent, the way she went all fresh and flustered the second I teased her was ridiculously charming.
So this was what happened when the world flipped. Stuff I never would've dared back home for fear of a sexual harassment report was fair game here, and I liked that more than I wanted to admit.
Twenty-three years of life and zero experience with women didn't mean I disliked them. Part of it was never meeting anyone I wanted that badly. Part of it was a social climate that made even this level of teasing a bad idea.
Which was exactly why I was doing it now.
"Here you g— hya!?"
As she handed over the bagged groceries, I closed my hand over hers from above. Soft, pale skin pressed into my palm. I stroked the back of her hand lightly with my thumb, then took the bag. When our hands finally parted, she let out a tiny, reluctant sound, and a small smile slipped onto my face.
"Take this. You look exhausted—hang in there."
She cradled the hand I'd held like it was treasure, cupping it with her other hand and drawing it to her chest. Watching her, I pulled a bottled vitamin drink from the bag and held it out.
It was one of those drinks I always suspected just flushed the vitamins straight out in your pee.
Too many impossible things had stacked up in too short a time. She just stared blankly at the bottle I was offering, completely gone.
"My arm's getting tired. Please take it."
I gave the bottle a little shake, and that finally snapped her back. She accepted it in both hands.
I said goodbye to the girl gazing at a vitamin drink like it was actual treasure, and stepped out of the store.
On the walk home, there seemed to be more people than on the way there. Only a little more—but enough that I could feel the difference clearly.
Am I being self-conscious?
It almost felt like they'd come outside just to look at me. Whispering to each other while watching me. Pointing. Some of them even stared until I passed, then hurried back into a building.
Seeing that, you couldn't help thinking it even if you didn't want to.
After a few minutes of the same scene, a question surfaced. Why go that far?
Sure, men were one in ten here—but was a reaction this intense actually normal?
The convenience store had been the same. Looking back, you could call that an abnormal response without stretching it.
Do they act like this with other guys too?
Come to think of it—where were the other men? It was a short trip to the store and back, but you'd expect to spot at least one.
Were they really all shut in at home? The stuff I'd read online came back to me. What if that hadn't been a metaphor? What if it was literal?
Fine. Stay inside, then. I'll just monopolize all of them myself!
Good. Better they never came out than watch women fawn over those broth-soaked shut-ins.
I was still thinking along those lines when I got close to home—and spotted a cat in the alley.
It didn't have the elegance of the last cat I'd seen in my old world—from here on, I'd call that place the Old Earth—just an ordinary stray. Still cute, though.
I stepped carefully into the alley and reached out. That was when a nearby door flew open. Someone clamped a hand over my mouth and wrenched my arms behind my back.
It was so unreal I could only watch the cat bolt in fright.
"Mmph!? Mmph!!"
"Don't thrash around too much. I can tell you're fresh goods."
A woman's voice slid against my ear—thick, clinging, and somehow filthy enough to raise goosebumps.
I was pretty sure I'd just walked into something very dangerous.