Magic
At the construction site, do you know what type of people I hated the most? The incompetent ones? Nah. The full-of-themselves show-offs? Nope. The loudmouths who curse a ton? Wrong again. It was the bastards who just stood around cracking jokes and killing time with chit-chat.
And now here I was, doing exactly that shit.
...My pride's totally fucked.
I adjusted my mask with grim determination and turned back toward the rail. Irezumi hyungnim was pulling boxes out at a godlike speed while scanning barcodes simultaneously. He glanced back slightly as if sensing my presence... but showed no sign of yielding his spot.
"Uh, hey, I've rested enough now. Can I take over sorting?"
"Oh, Jua. If you see any tape scraps or plastic bits on the floor, could you pick 'em up? While you're at it, grab any small boxes or loose plastic wraps that've fallen."
Even when I straight-up asked for the sorting spot, Irezumi hyungnim didn't bother turning around. Instead, he handed me some busywork that'd normally go to the idle rejects or the old-timers.
>JuaJuaYa donated 1,000 won!
The electronic girl's voice echoed through the logistics center. I hadn't cranked the volume too high, so it wasn't disruptive, but it was loud enough for anyone near rail 13 and the surrounding area to hear.
Unable to chat since I'd remounted my phone, the viewers had come up with their own solution: the 1,000-won punch.
...Donations are supposed to feel good, so why do these piss me off?
Ten 1,000-won punches make 10,000 won. A hundred make 100,000. I should be grateful for every precious donation... but nope, each one felt like a gut punch.
With a resolute expression, I pulled out the debit card slotted behind my phone. The one holding my entire fortune of 130,000 won.
"No can do. My conscience can't take this anymore."
"...?"
Irezumi hyungnim shot me a look like What the fuck are you babbling about? But this wasn't right. Not like this.
I hadn't come to the logistics center to goof off. Or crack jokes. And sure as hell not to play queen bee.
But that's how it had shaken out. All the hyungnims had snatched up my work, leaving me with jack shit to do.
"I'll be right back—gonna step out for a sec."
"Huh? Wait, Jua? Where you going?!"
"Fuck it... time to spend some cash. Can't have me looking like the only slacker here—makes me feel too guilty."
"Breakfast'll be triangle kimbap. If that's not enough... lunch too. Hell, if it still falls short, dinner as well. Can't imagine it'd come to that, though."
"It's fine. Back when I was young, I did 2nd shift at a factory and got tight with one of the convenience store aunties. Lived off discarded food for half a year straight."
>LeeJuaDogJua donated 50,000 won!
Hearing about my Lee Jinsu days—fresh out of the orphanage, grinding 2nd shift at the factory on nothing but discarded food—suddenly set off a donation explosion.
...Wait, why?
>LeeJuaBroth donated 30,000 won!
>BattleGaller donated 10,000 won!
>IsItReal? donated 10,000 won!
>SquishyWetWipes donated 5,000 won!
The donation alerts blared non-stop, echoing loudly. I quickly glanced around and turned down the volume. Couldn't see the screen properly while walking, but the electronic girl's voice alone painted a clear picture of the chat vibe.
...Wasn't trying to fish for pity.
I'd never once weaponized being an orphan. Hell, it couldn't even be a weapon. For a guy, whining about that shit? Better spend that time job-hunting. You got working limbs—what's your excuse?
So I'd just accepted it as my lot in life and moved on, no big deal.
But spilling my past through Lee Jua's clear, girlish voice? To the viewers, it sounded like a tearjerker tale of a young girl holding the family together.
"No, hyungnims! Thank you! Seriously, overwhelmingly thankful... but that wasn't pity bait. Stop donating! Well, don't stop... just lower the amounts!"
Placating the viewers while speed-walking, I soon arrived at the convenience store. Grabbed a basket and unhesitatingly swept the shelves: for Irezumi hyungnim, Anchovy, Park Gun, the ajusshi solo-loading rail 14, Team Leader just in case, and me too.
Two big ion drinks. Six canned coffees. Six chocolate bars. Six hot bars each. Looked like someone had gone all-in on quantities.
"Checkout."
"Ah, yes! 33,000 won!"
"...Pardon?"
Is this inflation for real? Korea's gone to hell.
Payment done, balance: 97,000 won. A few snacks from the conbini and poof—three bowls of gukbap gone. But no regrets. Can't not treat the folks who deserve it. That's what earning money's for.
"...That's heavy. You okay? Want me to carry it?"
"...Huh? You're leaving your post?"
Now even the conbini clerk's bitching. If you carry this, who's minding the store...?
He realized it too and scratched his head sheepishly. "Ah... can't leave the store empty. Sorry."
"...No worries."
"I'll split it into two bags instead. One bag and you might cut your fingers."
"...Thanks."
Two ion drinks, six canned coffees, chocolate bars, hot bars. This is finger-cutting size? Self-loathing hits hard.
Swallowing the bitterness of this princess treatment out of nowhere, I split the plastic bags between my hands and headed back to rail 13. Better to hand out snacks than stand around like an idiot—keeps my conscience intact.
"Snacks for everyone!"
"Oh... conbini run, huh? Thanks!"
"Got some for rail 14 ajusshi too. Pass it on."
"Sure, I'll take it over."
Park Gun came over as I set down the bags. Anchovy joined to prep the rail 14 share. Loading could wait—stack it all at once later. Plenty of time for a quick snack break.
But sorting couldn't stop. If rail 13 boxes aren't pulled, they back up. Some ajusshi grabs one and boom.
"You fucking assholes! Sort properly!"
Or "Why the fuck is rail 13 shit here?!"
He'd chuck it like a shot put champ.
And that's my opening.
"Hyungnim! I'll take over sorting! Go grab a snack quick!"
"...Uh... yeah... Park Gun, eat fast and switch."
"Got it hyung, be right there."
"...?"
Back to being unemployed slacker Lupin with no job in sight.
All I'd done at the center was fail to yank a box, botch lifting an empty pallet, and hit the conbini. Yet my whole body throbbed like I'd been beaten to a pulp. Headache brewing. Lower back and thighs aching. Stomach off. A bit dizzy too.
Did hefting that tear my pecs? Chest hurt too.
But manly Lee Jua wouldn't crumple to muscle soreness from parcel-jumping. No beta here.
As I shot up from my seat, a chilling pain hit my lower belly, followed by a gush—like something flooding out, damp and nasty, spreading through my lower half.
"Ah, fuck."
The curse slipped out unbidden. Unless I'd wet-dreamed, it had arrived.
The thing I'd dreaded most since the TS. Inescapable reality.
Muscle aches be damned—I bolted to the bathroom. The gruesome cleanup began.
...Anyone seeing this'd think I shit my pants.
Hand-washed the bloody undies. Fumbled with the pads I'd stashed just in case. Trickier than bras, felt like. Read the instructions three times.
"Haa... shit... wait, I ain't got a dick anymore...."
Clutching my abdomen, I waddled out.
Me, diapering up at this age. Cramping like my gut was wringing out. Back about to snap. Indefinable disgust and irritability surging.
Laundry's normal, but now I hate it. Bedding pisses me off. Wanna burn it.
...I'm losing it.
Clock said 6:30 PM already. No hard promise on stream time, but the unspoken rule was around 7.
Plan was chill Battlelands duos with viewer Q&A on labor life, laughs all around.
Now even that sounded like ass.
Skip stream...?
Temptation hit, but I shook it off. Can't break momentum now. Pain that doesn't kill makes you stronger. True Korean man doesn't bow to menstrual cramps.
But I'm a woman now. Maybe it's okay to fold?
...Yeah, skipping.
Fired up the PC to announce on Lee Jua Studio...
...Super manly Yeopo Lee Jua skipping stream for her period?
No way. Decided to stream instead.
But mood's trash. Treating viewers like this—they'd feel it too. Skip's right.
But... they like my streams even on off days, right? Gotta stream.
...One Battlelands round and I'm wiped even on good days.
Skip then...
Nah? Skip Battlelands.
Stream it is...
What the fuck am I doing?
The song lyric about a woman's heart being like reeds? Definitely written by a chick.