Financial Therapy, Gourmet Therapy, Beastman Therapy (1)
The dead are buried in the heart, and the living must fight to survive. That’s my life motto and the survival strategy that keeps me sane in this world. Some people might point fingers and call me a cold-blooded monster with no blood or tears. Hell, I’ve heard that line more times than I can count. But I’d like them to try walking in my shoes for a day. How would it feel to pull the trigger without hesitation on the neighbor who used to greet you every morning, now turned into a rampaging monster? And what about healing people who are screaming in agony without any anesthesia, forcing them to endure that pain? “It hurts.” “Please save me.” “I want to die.” If I let every desperate scream sink in and empathize, I’d go insane long before the rampaging beastmen ever got to me.
So I had to become numb. When I pulled the trigger, I became a machine that only cared about hitting the target. When I healed, I became a technician fixing broken parts. That was how I protected myself.
“Haa…”
The truck heading back to Association headquarters was so quiet you couldn’t even hear breathing. More accurately, the air had grown heavier because of the chick sitting next to me.
Spica… No, I should call her Mirae now.
After the operation ended and we returned our gear, she moved like her soul had already left her body. When handing over her firearm, the administrative soldier had to call her name three times before she responded. Even after we got back to my private room, she just collapsed onto the sofa and stared blankly into space.
“…”
I glanced at her through the vanity mirror. Her eyes were unfocused, her lips pressed tight, and her hands—neatly folded on her knees—trembled ever so slightly. Anyone could see the words “I killed a monster for the first time today” written all over her face.
Pitiful, really. In a normal world, she should be out with friends exploring restaurants and giggling over dating troubles. Instead she’s stuck with me, shooting at monster-tagged bastards. How is her mental state supposed to survive that?
Still… she’s kind of cute.
Terrified out of her mind yet refusing to run, biting her lip and trying to hold on somehow—that sight was oddly admirable and endearing at the same time. Like a puppy experiencing its first thunderstorm.
“Mirae. Are you just going to sit there moping? At least go wash up.”
My voice shattered the silence. Mirae flinched like she’d been shocked, shoulders jerking.
“Y-yes?! Ah… I should wash up… I need to wash up, but…”
Even as she said that, her butt stayed glued to the sofa. Her body probably felt like it weighed a ton and she didn’t want to move a single finger. I knew that bone-deep exhaustion that hits once the tension fades all too well. But that’s exactly when you have to force yourself to move. If you sit still, those horrific scenes and the smell of blood come creeping back to consume you.
I deliberately sniffed the air and wrinkled my nose.
“You reek of gunpowder and monster blood, you know? Planning to contaminate my room too?”
“Ah… I-I’m sorry! I’ll wash up right away!”
Mirae’s face turned beet red at the mention of the smell. As expected, she reacted fast to that kind of comment—probably because we’re both women. She scrambled up and headed for the bathroom.
“Towels are in that drawer, and just use my shampoo and body wash. Don’t hold back just because they’re expensive.”
“Yes! Thank you, sunbae-nim!”
The shower door closed and the sound of running water began. Only then did I lean back against the vanity chair and let out a long breath.
Haa… I don’t look much better myself.
I stared at my reflection. My usually confident face was a mess of sweat and dust, and dark circles had started to show under my eyes. Back at the scene I’d thought I looked like a magazine spread, but now I just looked like a drowned rat.
Better clean this up quick. My skin is precious, after all.
I pulled out a cleansing tissue with practiced ease and started wiping my face. The heavy makeup came off, revealing not the fearsome Big Mama but Baek Myungmin’s bare face—looking a little tired today.
I liked this moment of removing makeup. It was the time I took off the mask and returned to being purely myself. A personal ritual of washing away the battlefield’s blood smell and returning to fragrant everyday life.
Another day survived.
I listened to the sound of water from the bathroom. The chick in there was probably washing away not just the dirt but also the horrific memories of her first real mission, letting them all swirl down the drain.
Well, if that doesn’t work, I’ll just buy her something delicious and make her forget.
Financial therapy and gourmet therapy. Those two could fix most traumas, in my opinion~
After finishing my skincare routine, I mentally ran through a list of restaurants to take her to once she came out. Something sweet, expensive, and pretty. If she’d seen hell today, the least I could do as her senior was show her a taste of heaven.
Satisfied with my clean, makeup-free face, I grabbed a change of clothes and opened the shower door. Hot steam billowed out along with the warmth. Through the hazy fog, I could see Mirae’s back—she must have taken my earlier comment about the smell seriously, because she was scrubbing herself like she was trying to peel off her own skin.
“Good grief, you’re going to scrub your skin right off.”
I clicked my tongue and turned on the showerhead.
“I was just messing around when I said that. Did you actually take it seriously and start scrubbing like crazy?”
“Hik?! S-sunbae-nim?!”
The moment she heard my voice, Mirae screamed and spun around. Then she hurriedly covered her chest and lower body with both arms, huddling into the corner. Her face was apple-red and she looked completely lost.
What the… why is she reacting like that?
We’re both women, and this isn’t even a public bathhouse—it’s a private space. Did she really need to cover herself so desperately? Was she embarrassed because my figure was too perfect in comparison?
“I’m the one getting embarrassed just watching. What are you hiding for? I’m a woman too, you know?”
I let out a disbelieving chuckle and approached her. Mirae still couldn’t shake off her wariness… or rather, her embarrassment, and fidgeted awkwardly.
“Ha… But!”
“What now! Is there a problem?”
Only after I raised my voice a little did Mirae speak in a tiny, hesitant voice.
“That… well… the other team members told me. They said sunbae-nim… used to be a man…”
“Ah.”
Under the pouring water, I paused for a moment. The team guys had kindly briefed the newbie on my entire past, huh? I shrugged like it was nothing and wet my hair.
“That’s true, so what? My time as a man is already fading from memory.”
Of course, that was a blatant lie. Fading, my ass. I’d lived as a man twice as long as I’ve lived as a woman—how could I forget? From the taste of dirt during military service to eating cup ramen in a smoke-filled PC bang, every memory was crystal clear, like it happened yesterday. But there was no need to destroy this chick’s innocence by saying “Actually, I’m a guy who went to the army” right in front of her. The current me was the perfect, beautiful Baek Myungmin.
“Heh… Th-that’s right? Rumors are just rumors after all? It’s fine, right?”
“Of course. How ridiculous… If you’re that uncomfortable, want to go stay with the other team members? There are men, women, and other races there—it’d be real lively.”
“Ah, no! I’m sorry!”
My threat must have worked, because Mirae flinched in surprise, bowed her head, then suddenly bent forward ninety degrees in a naked apology.
“I’m sorry! Please wash comfortably!”
Then she grabbed the shower towel again and, as if her earlier shyness had never existed, started scrubbing herself vigorously like some auntie at a neighborhood bathhouse.
“…”
Watching her, I couldn’t even manage a hollow laugh.
If she shows that kind of side, even a man would feel paternal affection instead of any dirty thoughts and wouldn’t be able to lay a hand on her.
Usually, the combination of “shower” and “naked” creates a certain atmosphere, but she looked like a trainee who had to finish showering in five minutes at boot camp. Then again, maybe not. There were all kinds of crazy people in the world. Some beasts—not beastmen, actual beasts—might get excited by that defenseless, unsophisticated appearance.
If those kinds of guys try anything with our chick…
I lathered shampoo and looked at my own eyes in the mirror. A cold glint flashed through them.
Those bastards need their stomachs split open with a heal shoved inside so they can come to their senses through pain.
Physical therapy and financial therapy, followed by torture therapy? Mm-hmm. That works. Our Mirae and kids like her should grow up without seeing anything dirty under Mama’s wing… or rather, under my shadow. Even if what I show them is bloody battlefields and painful healing, at least in everyday life I should let them see only pretty things and eat only delicious things—that’s a senior’s duty, isn’t it?
I tried not to hum as I closed my eyes to rinse off the foam. Through the sound of the shower, Mirae’s noisy scrubbing continued like background music.
While washing the sweat off first with water, she spoke up.
“I-I’ll get out first! Excuse me… I mean, please continue washing!”
With a clattering sound, Mirae somehow managed not to slip and bolted outside. Instead of taking a shower, she’d been rubbing her body like it was a washboard, and her once-pale skin had turned bright red like a ripe persimmon. It was a shame to see such well-maintained white skin like mine go to waste, but what could I do if she was too embarrassed to endure it?
Watching her retreating back as she fled, I clicked my tongue.
“At this rate, if I asked if she wanted to grab something to eat, she’d foam at the mouth and faint.”
I’d planned to take her somewhere fancy today, but in that state she wouldn’t even have the strength to hold a fork—she’d just tremble and end up breaking a plate. Looks like I’ll have to dine elegantly alone today.
Anyway, that kid is really…
She said she grew up in a neighborhood full of beastmen, yet she had zero tolerance. Maybe she came from some deep mountain sect where she’d never even seen a man… No, was it a convent? While thinking that, I absentmindedly stared at the door she’d left through, then suddenly realized my gaze had been strangely sticky and flinched.
…Wait a second. I’m a woman, so why do I keep doing this?
Getting embarrassed over seeing another woman’s naked body and finding it cute enough to stare? That was basically the mindset of a creepy old man peeping at young women in a bathhouse.
“Haa… Being around that innocent puppy makes me feel like I’m changing too…”
I swept my wet hair back and sighed. When I first awakened and transformed into this body, I’d sworn that since I’d become such a pretty and perfect woman, I would enjoy it to the fullest out of spite. Every time I looked in the mirror, I’d hypnotized myself thousands of times—“I am the most beautiful woman in the world,” “I am the elegant Baek Myungmin”—trying to erase the memories and instincts of my dreary male days. I’d replaced cigarette smell with perfume and ramen broth with salad dressing. Yet here I was, having a sealed male instinct stir because of one defenseless chick.
“…Looks like that’s still a story for another day.”
I smiled bitterly and picked up the shampoo bottle Mirae had dropped while rushing out. I squeezed out a generous amount of the fragrant liquid, worked up a rich lather, and decided to wash not just my hair but also these strange, useless thoughts lingering in my head.
Under the cascading water, I recited the mantra again.
I am elegant. I am beautiful. I am… not a beast harboring dirty thoughts.
Yeah. I’m just a good senior who really cares about her junior.