Daily Life
After leaving the clothing store, we headed off in search of lunch. With only morning classes scheduled that day, the school hadn't provided any meals. Dorm students could still grab food back at the residence halls, of course, but I had deliberately skipped lunch so I could eat with Nova.
The entire way as we hunted for a decent place, I kept feeling every pair of eyes in the street swinging toward us. Given how sharp this body's senses and intuition were, it was hard to dismiss as pure imagination.
Not that anyone was staring rudely or leering. It was just the ordinary flicker of attention people give when someone eye-catching walks past—nothing more than that.
Even so, it was more than enough to weigh on me like a lead blanket.
The constant awareness made me hunch my shoulders and glue myself to Nova's back.
Ugh, damn it. Is it because I dressed up properly like a girl this time? Why does this fluttery skirt make me so embarrassed?
"What's with the sudden bashfulness?" Nova snorted. "A minute ago you were gushing over yourself in the mirror."
Her tone said it all: You were drowning in self-admiration at the shop, so why the coy act now? I felt thoroughly wronged.
How was I supposed to know it'd feel this mortifying? Every time I sense a glance, my whole body heats up and my ears go red. It's weird.
By the time we finally wandered into a suitable restaurant, my energy was already spent. I hadn't even done anything, yet my entire body felt heavy with fatigue.
After eating we drifted from one amusement to the next, following whatever caught our eye—movies, karaoke, the usual aimless wandering friends do when there's no real plan. If something looked fun, we just did it.
When the sky began to take on the soft colors of sunset, Nova pointed at a small building.
"One last stop. Let's hit that place and then head home."
I followed her finger and squinted at the sign.
"Life Three Cuts?"
It was one of those photo booths that had started popping up everywhere lately—pay, pose in front of the machine, and walk out with instant prints.
I grimaced and clicked my tongue.
I really don't want to...
Just walking around in this floaty outfit was already embarrassing enough. Now she wanted a permanent record of it? The idea was pure horror.
Nova ignored my sour face completely. She practically dragged me inside by the hand and shoved me into the booth.
Click!
They even forced a headband from the props shelf onto me before the camera flashed. When I saw the developed strip, an indescribable, strange feeling washed over me.
I folded the photos away and let out a long sigh.
"It's getting dark. We should head back. You're going straight home, right?"
"Yeah. My place is close from here, so I'll just walk. See you tomorrow!"
I waved at Nova's retreating back, then trudged toward the Academy and the dorms.
Haa... I feel completely drained. We only played around all day—why am I this tired?
My shoulders ached from walking around hunched the entire time. I'm never wearing a skirt again, just watch.
The Academy was far enough that I took the subway. I could have walked, but there was no reason to suffer when convenient public transit existed—especially with my legs already sore from a full day of wandering.
The moment I stepped aboard, I felt a brief wave of attention. Like a spotlight had swung my way.
Maybe I'm just being hypersensitive at this point. Busy city people rarely spare more than a second for strangers. Most of them were glued to their phones. Feeling stares in a place like this was probably pure paranoia.
And because it was a subway, the adult video I'd watched yesterday kept flickering through my mind—the second one, after I'd turned off the first. The scenario where a girl is trapped in a packed train, unable to move or cry out while a molester works on her.
Even the timing lined up: rush hour, the car so full there was barely room to stand.
I pressed myself against the door, crushed by the crowd, breathing shallowly.
The stares on the street had been bad enough. Once I was on the train, the fantasies went into overdrive.
What if someone touches me right now? With this many people it'd be impossible to find the culprit, hard to even react. Maybe it wouldn't even be deliberate—just someone thrashing in the crush and brushing against me by accident. Just imagining it makes me want to die of awkwardness.
Of course, the odds of anyone actually committing open sexual assault in a place this crowded were low... yet the filthy daydreams refused to stop. I didn't know why. Imagining myself as the protagonist of those videos felt unnervingly natural. Every time the thought surfaced, my lower belly gave a little twitch, as if getting aroused by it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Suddenly I remembered the look Nova had given me in the clothing store—the one that said I was a terminal case of narcissism. Maybe her eyes had been more accurate than I wanted to admit. Maybe that was why I kept sensing stares and shrinking into myself. I'd finally realized how pretty I was, and the realization had spiraled into the ridiculous delusion that every man who saw me was fantasizing about committing crimes against me.
Maybe these endless fantasies existed because I used to be a man. I still understood the male mind, so I knew exactly how attractive this body and face would look to other men.
I felt it every single day at the Academy—the way so many male students watched me. The teachers weren't much better. The only person I could trust completely, the only one who treated me without a shred of ulterior motive, was Yohan.
So of course I kept inventing filthy scenarios no one else was even thinking about, sinking deeper into the swamp of my own imagination. Just like now.
The car was packed, seats nonexistent, accidental contact constant. Every time some stranger's body bumped mine I flinched harder, shoulders drawn in, knees pressed primly together. The reflection in the window showed my ears burning red.
The fantasies had already moved past simple groping. Every hardcore video I'd ever used for release was flickering behind my eyes now.
I don't even know why I'm like this. At this rate it's hard to tell who's the real pervert—the people who just glance at a pretty girl and look away, or the girl who takes those glances and spins them into every filthy scenario imaginable. Anyone would be more creeped out by the latter.
Thank god I didn't ride the subway with Nova. If she'd seen me like this she would've asked if I had a fever.
After about four stops the doors opened. I sucked in a deep breath and finally forced my way out.
Whether from the long crush of bodies or something else, my breathing was ragged and my legs wobbled a little.
Every gust of wind made the long skirt flutter, and the sensation was pure irritation. Cold air brushing against my lower half left me feeling strangely unsettled.
I was walking down the corridor with heavy steps when a familiar silhouette appeared ahead.
Surprised, I called his name out loud.
"Yohan?"
"Eileen?"
He answered with my name and came toward me.
My voice softened at once.
"Are you heading home for the day?"
"I am. You said you had something to take care of—were you out?"
"Ah, yes. That's right. How did you know?"
"I've never seen you in casual clothes before. You wouldn't dress up this much just to run errands at the Academy, so I figured you'd been out with friends."
"Ah..."
I gave a small, timid nod. Then a sudden curiosity made me ask,
"Um... these clothes. How do they look to you? Do they seem awkward, or... not very good...?"
"No. They're pretty. They suit you well."
"Ah—r-really?"
Yohan answered with rare firmness. I hadn't expected anything so decisive, and the words left me stammering.
I'd half hoped he'd say they looked strange or didn't suit me so I'd have an excuse never to wear them again. The unexpected praise left me strangely unsettled.
Even weirder was the fact that, despite not getting the answer I wanted, hearing his compliment still made me feel a little happy.
A bashful feeling twisted through me and I squirmed in place.
Yohan studied me for a moment, then spoke.
"Did you catch a cold outside? Your face is flushed and you look a little feverish."
"Huh? Oh—no. It's just... I'm not used to dressing like this, so I feel embarrassed..."
"Is that so?"
He seemed to weigh something briefly, then nodded as if he understood.
"Mm... I can more or less guess what happened outside."
"Pardon?"
"It's nothing. Anyway, when you get back to your room, take the medicine I gave you last time. It's excellent for bringing down a fever."
"Ah... yes..."
"I'll see you tomorrow, then. Get back safely."
"Yes. Good night, sir."
We exchanged farewells over his cryptic remark and parted ways.
By the time I reached the dorm the sun had already slipped past the horizon. Outside the window the sky was darkening, the last traces of sunset fading into dusk.
I started undressing for a shower and felt a sudden sticky discomfort. Looking down, I confirmed the damage and my brow furrowed on its own. No wonder I'd felt damp and clammy ever since getting off the subway.
"...I'm wet."
I muttered the words under my breath, face twisted in distaste.