Human Jelly, Scientifically Proven
Enough already. That's not it. After chatting a bit more with Park PD, I left the cafe. We seemed a little closer than before, but the atmosphere was still awkward as we said our goodbyes. I dazedly watched her walk away into the distance, clutching her shopping bag. That zombie-like exhaustion was actually fueled by her passion for otaku stuff. Not work passion, but hobby passion powering her through that killer workload. At that level, it's almost respectable. A true enthusiast ready to burn everything for their hobby. I pride myself on my camping passion—no one tops that—but I wouldn't grind my body to dust like her...
...Or would I? Ahem, anyway... This company... These MCN folks are no ordinary people. From the president down to Im Nana and Park PD. They all seem a bit off in the head somewhere, but their skills are superhuman across the board. I started wondering if I even belonged here.
I organized my thoughts as I drove home. Pulling into my familiar neighborhood, I stopped at a signal and spotted a new building across the street.
GRAND OPEN!
Latest Equipment Fully Equipped!
PT Specialist Gym!
The flashy gym banner hit me like a truck, and memories flashed by like a panorama: grunting while hauling camping gear, struggling to extend the camper awning all the way, my arms trembling after just a few bags of puppy food.
'Ah, right... I need to start working out...'
I'd sworn when I got back to Seoul that this time I'd get serious—sign up for a gym right away. But I'd totally forgotten again.
'...Not today, though. I dressed up a bit for the contract meeting. Going to the gym like this would be weird, right?'
Heading to a consultation in slacks and a shirt? No matter how I spun it, that screamed odd. Plus, I was tired.
...No. This lazy mindset is why I'll never start. I shook my head, the light turned green, and I drove off. Just change and go. It's close enough to walk.
The moment I opened the front door, a white fluffball came charging out, tail spinning like a propeller.
"Ang! Wang wang!!"
"Maximus! Aigoo! Missed me that much?"
He must've been lonely all morning while I was out. I plopped down on the floor and hugged him tight. Maximus licked my face like crazy in greeting.
Ugh, this lethal cuteness. Among all dogs, you're the cutest! We rolled around on the floor for a good while, pouring out affection.
As I lay there kneading his squishy paw pads, laziness crept over me like a fog.
'Ah, this is bliss. Wanna stay like this forever.'
Warm house, relaxed body, adorable Maximus in my arms. No way I wanted to break this perfection.
"...Gotta go, workout."
Not even yesterday—just ten minutes ago—I'd resolved to start today, change and head out. If I couldn't stick to this, how the hell was I gonna run a YouTube channel and go camping?
But looking at Maximus nuzzling my hand, my resolve wavered again. Damn, he wants me so bad—how can I leave this little guy behind?
My hand paused, and he shoved his head under my palm. That desperate wriggle was impossible to ignore.
Then it hit me: Maximus grown up. Not even two months old yet—too early for walks—but in a couple months, we'd be strolling, and he'd get heavier. Pomeranians top out at 2-3kg usually. I could barely handle a 5kg bag—could I really care for a grown Maximus?
I'd tire out before he did on walks, no doubt. Sighing, I got up and changed into comfy clothes. For our sturdy future together, no choice.
"Maximus, bro—er, sis is gonna work out and be back. Guard the house!"
I patted his little head and headed out.
Hmm, it really is close. Gym's already in sight...
...Not mentally ready yet.
Standing in front of the gym, hesitation gripped my ankles.
'Maybe start tomorrow?'
But turning back now? Pathetic. Steel myself, I stepped inside.
Down the elevator, through smooth auto-doors. The gym was way bigger and nicer than expected—freshly opened, sparsely populated, gleaming new machines everywhere.
Gawking at the entrance, a young front desk guy smiled and spoke up.
"Hello! First time?"
"Ah, yeah. Here to sign up..."
He led me to a consultation room. A balanced, solid-built guy—not bulky, but fit under his clothes—sat there.
"Hello. Gym owner Park Jinwoo."
"Ah, hi. Han Areum... Here to register."
"What's your goal? We tailor a program to that."
"Um... Hobby stuff, but my basic fitness and strength suck. Need to lift heavy, build some endurance..."
"Perfect choice." He explained fees and PT programs seriously. Hmm, not bad? Reasonable prices... And PT sounded ideal. For someone like me, I needed a trainer. Alone? I'd pass out.
Otherwise, I'd end up on the news as "20s woman faints at gym."
"All registered. Let's start with InBody scan. Need your current stats for a custom plan."
He intercommed a trainer. A kind-faced woman came and took me to a private InBody room.
Oh... Private rooms now? Nice privacy.
"Undress and stand here, hold these."
"U-Undress?"
"Yep! Needs light clothes or underwear for accuracy. Gown here—no worries."
Made sense—even my "light" home clothes were winter-thick. Embarrassing, but I stripped and donned the gown. Standing on the machine gripping the handles, tension built.
"Relax. Breathe easy... Quick~"
Less than a minute felt eternal. Why so nervous? Knew it'd be bad.
Done. Printer spat out my sheet. Trainer tilted her head.
"Hm...?"
She flipped it around, looked troubled, eyed me awkwardly.
"Sorry, one more scan?"
What? Too tense first time? I nodded, clueless. Second go felt looser.
Sheet out—her face more scrunched. Alternating sheets, she softened into pitying, cautious eyes.
What? Hey, trainer? That look? Why so grave... pitying...?
She hesitated, then spoke ultra-gently.
"Ma'am... If it's not rude... sensitive question, but...?"
"...? Go ahead."
"Um... Are you signing up for... rehab...?"
...Huh? Rehab? Me?
Taking my silence as yes, she got even softer.
"Sorry, too direct? No worries. We have certified rehab trainers! Start slow, no strain..."
"N-No! Not that...!"
My voice came out shaky, trailing off in panic. Damn, sounds like denial...!
"Ah... Right? Haha... My bad. No problem! Consistent effort and you'll..."
She handed the sheet, explaining. But I heard nothing. My body rehab-level bad?
'Rehab signup?' Shock hammered my brain.
Glancing at the sheet. Heard InBody types: C, I, D... What shape was this? Not healthy D, barely C—shaky, pitiful. No, < shape. Skeletal muscle graph: pathetically skinny.
'...Human jelly. Scientifically proven.'
Sighing at the sheet, she patted my back pityingly.
"It's okay. It'll get better."
That consolation crushed me more.
Clutching the damning paper, I zombie-shuffled back to the consult room. Owner eyed the sheet and my face, more grave than the trainer.
"Hm, Areum, you said hobby fitness?"
"Y-Yeah..."
"No problem. Gym just moved here, but old location had a traffic accident survivor who rehabbed and biked cross-country. Effort pays off."
...Fuck, I'm not a patient.