9. Entangled

Yuri hadn't always been like that.

"You look pretty when you smile."

Those words were sweeter than honey. Even knowing I shouldn't swallow them whole, I pressed my tongue to them all the same.

The girl who often sat beside me was impossibly beautiful. From her slender neck down to the soft curve of her shoulders, she was elegant as a swan. A peach-flush bloomed across her cheeks like ink spilled and spreading on still water. That pure white smile she offered me, radiant as sunlight itself. I painted endless scenes of the two of us. Pressing down on her pale thighs, climbing over her, kissing her as if I meant to drink her in. Caressing those crimson notes while whispering love. Wanting to part the flesh where milky wetness ran and explore every last inch inside her. Wanting to possess her without leaving a single grain behind.

Once a week, the only hour I waited for was Introduction to Philosophy. Had my prayers been answered? We landed in the same group for the project. I got her number. We went on dates. We held hands and walked, and every day I wrote it all down in my diary. I spent entire days agonizing over the meaning of the heart she tapped on my messages. If she didn't reply for even five minutes, I felt like I would lose my mind. I felt like I was going to die.

"I'm sorry, but those feelings…"

No. She was nothing like Yuri. A one-sided delusion. Hellish days followed. Yuri ate nothing for a full week. She stayed shut inside her room and cut off every contact. The price of putting her mouth on something that belonged to someone else.

It started then. The habit of narrowing her eyes to hide her gaze. The moment she began noticing every woman's glance, every gesture of the hand—those delicate little signals. She brought countless people under her. Yuri's white fingers became a massage of blessing; her mouth and tongue, a nest of pleasure. Behind the women who collapsed exhausted, Yuri quietly struck a match.

She's imitating, isn't she?

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

That was the thought the first time she saw Doyun. The exaggerated performance was covering something. And through the gaps she saw it clearly—the glances, the hand gestures, the play of the tongue, even the way the eyes moved. It was unmistakably the girl from her memories. Her heart lurched. The scar still left on it throbbed.

"How far can you go?"

Yuri whispered it after draining her glass.

"Play with me, Yerim."

That name that had left such a sweet scar.

I went blank at the unexpected turn.

No, that's impossible.

Is this sexual harassment?

A man doing receptive penetration? What are you even saying?

Any other man would have said something like that. What came out of my mouth was something else entirely. Maybe because I was already half-captivated by Director Yuri.

"What exactly is… receptive penetration? How is that even possible for a man?"

I couldn't quit now. I'd been scammed and the debt was considerable. At least until I landed an offer somewhere else, I would play along.

"The easiest way would be for you to become a woman, Yerim."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm joking. Though if you want to go on about the anima, be my guest."

Anima—Jung's concept of the perfect, unblemished feminine living in a man's unconscious.

"What we did earlier with our fingers, you'd do with your mouth or genitals, and so on."

My heart hammered so hard I could barely open my mouth.

"I… I… that means…"

"It's hard for a beginner to manage alone. So I have a proposal."

"What… is it?"

"You learn with your body while I discipline you. You live the way I tell you to, you take it, you train. Think of it as private tutoring—practically a privilege."

"Discipline?"

"Yes. Discipline—just like the company name. We'll go over everything, from the lightest things to the deepest places, one by one. Once you let it in, you won't be able to go back. Because it means waking up to entirely new sensations and stimuli."

"It sounds like you're telling me to become a toy…"

"That's right. My toy."

She made no effort to hide her desire.

"I'm offering this confession because you happen to suit my tastes, Yerim. I want you to be my partner. You can stop whenever you want. Try it, and if it's fine, go a little further, one more step. That's how we move forward."

My flesh trembled. Clearly, clearly I… It was true that I was drawn to her. But if I went any further, everything would fall apart. My heart stumbled uselessly in my chest. I barely pulled ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠myself together and made to leave. I didn't speak. If I did, I felt like everything would be found out.

"Forty-seven hundred."

An unfamiliar number struck my ear.

"We haven't talked salary yet, have we? I can offer quite a bit more than your previous one."

The calculations of a brain rooted in capitalism were fast. 1.8 times. Roughly a twenty-million-won raise.

"That's the salary you get if you show results within one month."

I turned and looked at her again. A dangerous atmosphere clung close around us. An offer I couldn't refuse—yet a relationship I could walk away from at any time. Fine. In that case, I would use her.

"I'm interested. On one condition."

At those words, light rippled clearly through Yuri's eyes.

"Make the salary five thousand."

"All right. I'll bring the contract. Wait here."

I skimmed the contracts while taking a sip of the orange juice the director had brought me. The taste was off—cheap juice, probably. The fact that her tastes weren't refined in every little thing somehow felt human. Consent form for receptive penetration. Partner agreement. Employment contract. I scanned them quickly and signed. The number 4800 instantly elevated the weight of the papers. So this was what it felt like for life to finally open up.

"I've signed!"

"Welcome to Discipline, Doyun."

Director Yuri rolled the name on her tongue.

"And welcome as my partner, too."

Only then did my first day at work come to an end.

I dreamed. A terrifying nightmare.

Doyun, what philosophy in design? Just follow the references, yeah?

This is garbage. Looks like I'm pulling an all-nighter.

Ha, hey! I went through all that trouble picking you and you're completely useless.

I survived by getting knocked around hard at the company. I learned by half-baked methods while being sworn at. The lead position handed to me so young was brutal; overtime and weekend shifts were the norm. I lost my health and saved a fair amount of money. Precious stretches of my time traded for three years.

—Rrring

—Rrring

Until that one phone call came.

This is the Seoul Northern District Prosecutors' Office.

I cried for days on end. My stomach turned over. My heart hammered. The trauma from back then still wouldn't leave me. Somewhere far off in the dream I saw my mother. I woke.

The one-room apartment, washed in dawn light, held only silence. I drank some water and barely calmed my chest.

"It was so long ago, and still. Still like this."

It was five o'clock, but sleep wouldn't return, so I exercised. I worked out so I wouldn't be looked down on, and even so my body was far too slender. That insane director's voice kept ringing in my ears.

You look like a pretty kid.

Come to think of it, I genuinely wondered whether she would actually take me shopping.

The day itself passed uneventfully. Maybe because Team Leader Ayoung was out. Around four, Director Yuri appeared and called for me.

"Shall we go? Shopping?"

Director Yuri's car looked extremely expensive. Expensive enough that I wanted to ask where the money had come from. The department store was just hitting a quiet stretch. She stopped at the cosmetics counters on the first floor. I was standing there without thinking when a clerk approached and greeted us.

"Oh my, are you two sisters?"

Sisters. Did I look like a woman? Had the anima inside me finally hatched at some point, turning me into one without my noticing?

"We're not sisters."

"Ah, I'm so sorry."

The words I see, you're a man never quite came out.

"I'd like to have some makeup done as part of work."

My body locked up on its own.

"Of course. What kind of style?"

"What was that word Yerim liked again?"

"Graceful."

A sharp brow razor touched my skin. Every time something scraped away with a soft shhk, shhk, I felt something else inside me disappearing too. In the mirror the brows looked truly thin, like a woman's.

"Um, aren't these too thin?"

"Oh, this is actually the trend among women these days."

I realized saying more would only cost me, and stayed quiet. Fine. One side's already done—better than ending up uneven. After that came foundation, base, light eye makeup and blush. The scent of powder tickled the tip of my nose. When I looked in the mirror at the end, I couldn't help but be startled. It was genuinely beautiful. Beautiful enough that I wanted to linger over it, to savor it.

"So this is what your anima looks like."

"It… isn't."

"If you hate it, you can say so."

What a ridiculous thing to say.

"Is this really part of the job?"

"You already know, so why ask."

She picked out clothes one after another. Thankfully she never brought over a skirt. But everything was either floaty or tight—that sort. Subtly feminine in nuance. Not meaning, exactly. Just nuance. Yet when those pieces gathered together, truly—

"You're jealous, aren't you."

"Of… what?"

"Those girls walking around out there. You're jealous of them."

Her hand settled around my shoulder.

"I'm not."

"You can become like that. More than that. You've always wanted it."

"To become a woman?"

"No. To lean on someone. To be loved."

She hit the mark dead-on. I had handed this woman far too many of my weaknesses during the interview and the meetings.

"You talked about the aesthetics of stripping away, back at the interview."

"…"

My face was already so hot I could barely breathe.

"I want to strip you away, Doyun. Strip Doyun away and mold you into Yerim. That's simply how I feel."

"What?"

"It's a confession."

And so the second day ended. I felt like I was turning into a fool.

2.

On the fourth day there was nothing to do, so I read the company brochure and looked over the products. One of them was the graceful black dildo I had seen on the first day. Above its flat base a streamlined curve thrust upward with force. The tip was round and blunt. Height looked to be about fifteen centimeters. It was double-layered; when I rubbed the surface, the outer skin shifted slightly. On the bottom, a logo was engraved in intaglio.

DS

That form, from which everything that could be stripped away had been stripped, sent a sharp thrill through my chest. The internal regulations Team Leader Ayoung handed over when she returned were more ordinary than I expected. One section did catch my eye, though—the rules for testing sex toys.

Use the test room.

Keep the room clean.

Soundproofing isn't perfect, so stay quiet if someone is testing.

After testing, write a report ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the proper format and upload it.

I glanced toward the room in the back. Situated beside the representative's office, it had a soundproofed door and a single window of mirrored glass. So that was it. That place, from back then. Only then did it truly sink in that this was a sex-toy company. That graceful dildo must have been a piece carved and carved again. After countless trips back and forth, revisions and changes, that beautiful curve had finally emerged. I didn't know the field, but functionally it looked more than decent.

Below, previous reports had been archived. Without meaning to, I pictured Team Leader Kwon Ayoung or the director testing products in some private way, and my face went red. The mouse cursor trembled around the download button.

That was when it happened.

"I'm going to do a quick test."

Team Leader Ayoung called out cheerfully. The director was out for a moment. In the large office it was only the two of us. The soundproof door closed. After confirming no one else was around, I clicked download.

Thump. Thump.

My heart raced. In the silent office I thought I could hear something rustling from the other side of the soundproof door. The report finished downloading. Carefully I opened the folder. The most recent title was Prototype_v5-w4_KwonAyoung. I clicked it. But it was password-protected.

What…

0000, 1234, 0101—none of them worked. On a hunch I tried the front-door code I'd been given.

6789

The file opened.

"Ahhnn…"

Diminished by the soundproofing, but unmistakable. When the file opened there was a photo of the prototype. Made ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of pink silicone, more experimental in shape, it thickened and thinned in repeating waves like a unicorn's horn.

"Haa…"

My face burned scarlet. Inside that room, the team leader was…

Pook.

Suddenly someone slipped headphones over my ears from behind. A sweet, cotton-candy song began to play. I turned my head and found Director Yuri had returned. She put a finger to her lips in a shh.

Ah…

She must have done it so Ayoung wouldn't panic if she came out and realized I'd been listening to her masturbate. A short while later the test-room door opened. Director Yuri spoke.

"What score?"

Face deeply flushed, Ayoung answered with a smile.

"4.2."

"Mm. Get a factory sample order ready."

"Yes, understood."

In the middle of it I glanced at the director's headphones. Consistent taste, as always.

"Yerim, come to the meeting room a moment."

"Ah—yes! Yes…"

I wondered if I was about to get scolded for just sitting there listening to Ayoung masturbate. But that wasn't it.

"How was it? Ayoung's masturbation."

"…"

"Didn't it turn you on even a little?"

"A little… it did."

Director Yuri looked me over. She paid particular attention to the space between my legs.

"Looks like Yerim's body hasn't hit puberty yet either."

"There are… circumstances."

"I brought something. Want to try this?"

She held out a single pill.

"It's a hormone-related supplement. Not a pharmaceutical, but it should have some effect."

"Ah… okay…"

But I hesitated, unable to take it.

"Are you afraid of puberty arriving?"

"N-no."

In truth, yes.

"Living pure your whole life would be comfortable, I suppose. Sexual desire really is a nuisance."

"Right…"

"But you can't keep running forever. That's what growing into an adult means."

She was right. I had always been envious. Mature men had looked so enviable, so cool. The things I never got to have. So I pretended I didn't want them. Because wishing for what you can never possess hurts too much. That was why opening my eyes to sex terrified me.

On the white pill the letters ES were printed.

"Yerim, if you don't throw something away, you can't move forward."

She wrapped her arms around me as if enfolding my whole body.

I want to move forward…

I want to grow…

I closed my eyes and swallowed the pill. It felt as if I had lost something inside myself.

I'm afraid. But I want to know.

And so I took one step into puberty.

I don't want to stay a child forever…

"Good job, Yerim. For now, take these and we'll watch the changes. Twice a day, after meals."

She held out the bottle. The glass was packed full of white pills.

"Yes. Thank you."

Whether the medicine was male hormone or female hormone—I couldn't bring myself to ask.