The Perks of Being a Man

My drinking snack is officially locked in as a culinary abomination. A pretty-looking convenience store worker is asking for my number. What is the appropriate response here? This is a simple problem that can be solved by compiling the big data of every single person who has ever asked for my number in my entire life.

"I don't need insurance, and I don't believe in God."

The kind of people who asked for my number were always that crowd. Sure, there was a 0.01% chance she was actually hitting on me. But my heart had been shredded too many times by cult recruiters masquerading as flirty strangers, so I didn't dare harbor any hope.

"N-No, that's not it. It's because you're so handsome... I mean, basically, I like you."

"I'm still not performing any ancestral rites for you."

They used to say they saw my ancestors standing behind me, but I guess that trick got too famous, so they changed their tactics. Scam methods evolving day by day. Truly diabolical.

"I really... like you... though..."

The part-timer looked like they were about to burst into tears, resembling a seal that had been left starving because its keeper forgot to feed it dinner. That expression was more than enough to make me reconsider what I was missing.

Oh, right. I became crazy handsome.

In my mind, my face was still that of an average guy, but since my actual face was anything but, a constant sense of cognitive dissonance kept popping up. Still, I had no intention of giving out my number. Why? Seeing how they said they liked me, they must have mistaken me for a guy.

"Um... I'm sorry, but I'm actually a girl..."

"I already knew that! And I, I don't care!"

Contrary to my expectation that they would panic and give up like they'd stepped on a trap card, the part-timer pressed on even more aggressively. I shrank back like a frog before a snake. Since when was "I don't care" such a terrifying phrase?

"I'm sorry. I'm not really into that..."

I hadn't even defined my own identity yet; there was no way I was going to date anyone in this state.

"No, no, no, no! It's not like that! I mean as friends. I just want us to be friends! That's what I meant by 'I don't care'!"

The part-timer shook their head so fast it looked like they were trying to fan themselves. Ah, so they just wanted to be friends. I'd gone and let my imagination run wild for nothing. A sudden wave of embarrassment washed over me, making my face flush hot.

"Well, if it's just as friends... sure, I'll give it to you."

With trembling hands, the worker unlocked their smartphone and handed it to me.

"Please put your name, number, and, haaah... your social media handle too."

I took the smartphone and saved my name and number in the contacts. I didn't do social media. Why would I use social media when my life wasn't exactly something worth showing off to others?

"Here you go."

"Ah...!"

The worker stared at the phone with eyes full of joy. Was getting the number of a NEET like me really something to be that happy about? It's not like I'm some alpha male.

"Goodbye."

"Yes! Have a safe trip home!"

After a brief exchange of farewells, I left the convenience store with a heavy pack of beer in one hand.

Pshhh! The crisp, refreshing sound of a beer can cracking open struck my ears.

My drinking snack was officially locked in as soy sauce egg rice. Sure, I'd been eating it all week, but having it with beer is a completely different story. Besides, I couldn't just pour alcohol into an empty stomach. If alcohol hits a completely empty stomach, the heartburn is absolutely brutal. Apparently, it's because it stimulates gastric acid secretion. Until a few days ago, I ignored it, thinking, My stomach is made of steel! That is, until my stomach couldn't take it anymore and rebelled against its master.

The doctor told me to cut back on drinking... but honestly, I've already cut back a ton! How am I supposed to cut back even more? To guarantee my stomach its labor rights, I decided at the very least not to dump alcohol into it while empty.

I scooped up a spoonful of the soy sauce egg rice and took a bite.

"Eating this every single morning for a week is really wearing on me."

Even though the egg yolk was fully cooked, a faint fishy smell wafted up. Is there any way to fix this? If I could just get rid of the fishy smell, it would be perfectly edible... How do other dishes get rid of fishiness? Then, a cooking video I watched a few days ago came to mind.

"It said to add soju."

I barely had enough alcohol to drink, so there was no way I had any spare soju lying around to use for cooking. Is there anything else? As I looked around, something caught my eye.

"Since they're both alcohol, I wonder if this would work too."

I stared intently at the beer can in my left hand. Hmm... maybe it's worth a shot if it's just a little bit. Just like drizzling soy sauce over the rice with a spoon, I let a little bit of beer trickle onto the rice. Then, I took a bite. It tasted exactly the same as before.

"A tiny bit like this doesn't change a thing."

To achieve a drastic change, I needed to take a drastic measure.

Glug, glug, glug, glug!

I poured the beer until it filled about half the bowl. The visual was something else: sesame oil floating on top of fizzing, carbonated beer. With the soy sauce mixed in, the color was a murky brown, making it impossible to tell if it was beer or dark barley tea. A culinary abomination was born, one that made vodka rice look like a gourmet meal.

But hey, maybe it'll actually taste good once I eat it. Though, eating this sober is out of the question... The beer can in my left hand seemed to glisten. Besides, the whole reason I bought beer in the first place was because staying sober was too hard! In that case! I have to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠drink! I chugged down the sloshing beer inside the can in one go.

"Ahhh! This feels amazing!"

My mood soared, like a stock portfolio suddenly lighting up in bright green. At this rate, I felt like I could do anything by myself, even in this unfamiliar body! Which meant... I could easily demolish this Beer Soy Sauce Egg Rice in no time!

I scooped up a spoonful of the rice grains, which were rapidly swelling as they soaked up the beer. Then, I shoved it into my mouth.

"The fishy smell is gone! I did it! It's a success!!"

Although the overall flavor had taken a nosedive, it seemed I had achieved my goal of eliminating the fishy smell. Plus, eating my snack and drinking my alcohol at the exact same time was incredibly efficient! Perhaps it was the training from being raised as a brainless, loyal pig of various gaming companies, but I was able to consume every last drop of the "broth" of this pig-slop-adjacent creation. Thank you, Nexon, Netmarble, Bilibili, and Hoyoverse! This is all thanks to you, game companies!

I tossed the empty bowl and spoon straight into the sink. Doing the dishes right away was completely out of the question.

"Anyone who does the dishes right after eating isn't even human."

In that sense, I was incredibly human. Though, there was no denying that I was also a textbook unemployed loser.

"Heheh!"

I chuckled to myself as I remembered a meme I saw on a forum for repeat exam takers: "The King of 100 NEETs." I recalled there were plenty of variations, like the "100 NEET Pirates." Seeing how I remembered all of this, maybe I was actually a genius? Maybe my IQ was actually 1105, but the test capped out and only showed 105! A tragic destiny where I was too much of a genius to be recognized by society, repeatedly failing to get a job, and ending up as a lonely NEET. Only after my death would the world finally realize my genius. A tragedy in life, a comedy in death. I would become someone like Van Gogh or Lovecraft.

"Ugh! I don't care about being famous after I die, I just want to make money right now!"

As much as possible, preferably. I wasn't even asking for a Banpo Xi apartment and a Porsche; just a Gangnam apartment with a Han River view would do! Well, maybe not Banpo Xi, but even that would be hard... No, wait, is it even possible in this lifetime? The high I had worked so hard to build up with the beer was starting to deflate. I should watch some WeTube. I set up my phone stand on the folding table and placed my phone on it. Fortunately, even though the world had changed, my favorite Vtuber hadn't disappeared. I played a video of them reacting to funny forum posts.

Gulp, gulp.

"Bwahaha! Cough, cough! Hack!"

I laughed while drinking, and the beer went straight up my nose. But even that, I just laughed off. When you're drunk, your brain goes all fuzzy, and everything is hilarious.

"What was I even worrying about earlier?"

I felt like I was seriously stressing over some web novel-style delusion about a gender-reversed world or whatever. But look, today is just another ordinary day. If I could live like this for ten years, or even a hundred, I gladly would! Soon, the video ended, and the algorithm queued up the next one.

"Seriously, these ads!"

It was an unskippable ad.

"Just because I don't subscribe to Premium, you hit me with a fifteen-second ad?! In the cold, ruthless world of capitalism, couldn't you guys at least show some mercy?!"

Even after the ad finished, a tiny pop-up ad blocked the video. Go away! Get out of my life! No matter how many times I tapped, the ad wouldn't close. The close button was just too damn small.

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

"Take this!"

I unleashed a rapid-fire barrage of taps like I was using the Finger Pistol technique. The ad finally closed, but because I tapped too fast, the screen shut off entirely. My face was reflected in the dark smartphone screen. My face...? The buzz instantly vanished.

"Oh, right. I became a girl."

But seriously, looking at this face again, I am incredibly handsome. You could bring out the most famous, gorgeous celebrities in Korea, and they wouldn't even come close. Regardless of whether they're male or female.

"Should I just try streaming?"

If you get gender-bent, starting an internet broadcast is the absolute golden rule. Even if this is a trash-tier world with a 1:30 male-to-female ratio, wouldn't this face still pull in viewers? After all, crossdressing male streamers are a thing.

"Should I look into it a bit?"

With just a brief search, I realized a massive truth.

In this world, if you were born male, your path to success was basically laid out on a silver platter. It wasn't just streaming; even normal jobs and government policies showered men with absurd benefits.

"If I hadn't been gender-bent, I could have enjoyed all of that!"

The question of "Where is gender equality?" was easily answered by the completely shattered gender ratio. If they didn't do this, the population would probably halve like some purple alien had snapped his fingers.

"First, let's see what male streamers are like..."

I tried to enter a male streamer's broadcast to get a feel for the atmosphere.

"What?"