The Neighbor

"Oh no... what do I do..."

I, Lee Jiyeon (age twenty-eight, experience with men: absolutely none), have fallen in love.

It started a few days ago.

Nothing had gone right that day. Not a single thing.

"Jiyeon, I need those files by tomorrow~"

"Huh? It's already quitting time..."

Overtime.

"...For that reason, this train will be temporarily delayed."

A stalled subway.

"I should've just lived in Seoul..."

The buses had already stopped running, so I had to walk the distance of two whole stations.

That kind of day.

By the time I got home, it was around eleven. That kind of day.

Thud! Thud!

"..."

I was so exhausted I skipped the shower and collapsed straight into bed — only to lie there wide awake, thanks to the noise from upstairs.

That kind of infuriating day.

"Are they working out at this hour...?"

On any other night I would have just ignored it and gone to sleep. But something in me boiled over. So I marched upstairs and pounded on the door without a plan in the world. I didn't even know what I was going to say. My chest was just tight, and I couldn't stand it.

"Hey! Finally you come out. Do you have any idea what time it—"

"Can I help you?"

I forgot how to breathe.

A... a man?

I'd never even heard that a man lived upstairs. I'd never seen one, either.

Granted, a man doesn't exactly need to take out an ad announcing, "I live here!" But it was so far outside anything I'd expected that I just... froze.

And as if to confirm every guess I'd made on the way up, he had clearly been working out. A thick scent of sweat rolled off him and short-circuited my brain on the spot.

Honestly, for someone who'd only ever seen men through a phone screen, catching a man's scent — and not just any scent, but that pheromone-drenched smell right after a workout — was so stimulating I felt almost unworthy of it.

"Huh? Ah, n-no, that's not—"

I stammered and fumbled through some half-baked excuse, and he must have gotten tired of waiting, because he asked if it was alright for him to go back inside.

The old me would have told him to go right ahead. I didn't have anything left to say, it was late, and he clearly had things to do. And yet, for reasons I couldn't explain, I stopped him.

No — if I'm being honest, I just couldn't stand the thought of that deepening scent of his being cut off. The smell of a man had started wafting from both him and the apartment behind him. What woman on earth could just let that go?

"W-wait, don't — just a second..."

I grabbed the edge of the door on instinct.

...Come to think of it, this looked an awful lot like those opening scenes in ryona or non-con stories — the part where a woman forces her way into a guy's apartment.

That was... fine, right?

A-anyway.

Whether manga and reality just work differently, I had to yank the door pretty hard just to keep it from shutting. He'd only been trying to close it casually, too. Are men just that strong to begin with?

Well, whatever. I poured everything I had into keeping that door from closing again. Naturally, he opened it back up. He took his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hand off the knob. I, meanwhile, was still braced against the door with all my weight.

The door swung inward.

So what do you think happened next?

Thump.

I tumbled straight into his arms.

The instant I fell against something — that is, against his chest — my mind entered a state of complete, dustless blankness. A fleeting nirvana. The dense "man-scent" that had been approaching in stages detonated directly against my brain. Looking back on it now, that moment truly was heaven.

After that brief taste of enlightenment, I fled with my brain still fried. And once I got home, I spent a truly sleepless night.

Ah — and it wasn't just the smell. The feel of him was in a league of its own. Two days after the incident, I ran an experiment on my flat-chested friend, and it was nothing like him.

"...So you do have some, after all?"

"Excuse me? You little shit, you suddenly ask me to let you fall on my chest and now you're running your mouth with this—"

I keep getting sidetracked.

Anyway. The next morning I locked myself in my room and spent the entire day thinking about him. And then it hit me.

"Is this... love?"

Someone told me I was just the type to fall too fast. You can ignore whatever that flat-chested girl has to say, though. That's nothing but her inferiority complex talking.

At any rate, I had fallen in love at first sight, and that very morning I sat down and started writing him a confession letter. It wasn't entirely serious, of course. I'd only written it as a bit of a fantasy — a lighthearted little exercise in laying my desires bare, or imagining I might actually hand it over.

The problem was that the fantasy gradually got out of hand, and before I knew it I was standing in front of his door.

So there I was, pacing back and forth with the confession letter in my hands. And then, as if fate itself had intervened — he opened the door and stepped out!

...I mean, yes, I had been camped out there for about four hours. But still.

Anyway. Thanks to another accidental fall, I even got to hold his hand. It was fainter than before, but the lingering scent of sweat was a bonus.

I did consider giving him the letter. In the end, though, I had no choice but to give up and run. When I asked, all worried, why he was going to the hospital, I realized he was going there to do... that. The thing every able-bodied man went to the hospital to do.

Of course it was a duty every man was expected to fulfill. Even if it weren't, there was nothing strange about it. But the sweat, the skinship, the memory of the night before — they all stacked on top of each other, and all I could do was flee.

"Haaaah..."

After that I used my flat-chested friend for both an experiment and a consultation, and even at work I spent every waking minute lost in thought about him. And from all of that, I arrived at a single conclusion.

"That's it. I'm going to confess."

My feelings were already at their peak. Whether he accepted me or turned me down, I felt like I had to do something or I'd never get over it. So I even worked out my confession speech, and I brought the letter along just in case the words wouldn't come out...

"What is it."

"Eh, ehh, th-that's..."

He seemed somehow frightening, different from the times I'd seen him before.

Eek—!!

"...If you don't need anything, can I go back to sleep."

I was standing there trembling, and he looked thoroughly fed up, like he wanted nothing more than to peel me off and go back to bed.

"Y-yes...!"

There was nothing else I could say.

Click.

The door closed. I stared blankly at it. For... I don't know how many minutes. I just stood there looking at a closed door for no reason at all, and then I trudged home.

Even after I got back, I sat on my bed and stared into empty air.

"..."

Then my one and only friend's face drifted into my mind, and I dialed her number.

I stared blankly at my phone. And only after a while longer was I able to come to a decision.

"Heaven's telling me not to confess. I should just give up."

Yeah... as if someone like me could ever date a man...

...Hadn't this person shown up last time, too?

I tried to recall her. Come to think of it, she'd been holding that letter both last time and this time. So was she trying to give it to me or not?

I dragged a hand down my face.

Last night, Yo-ona's pride had taken a hit, and she'd declared she was going to 100-percent the entire game. I hadn't been able to sleep until after we'd played until seven ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the morning. Once Elmil and I had somehow cleared the whole thing — glitches and all — she refused to accept it and pulled out the sequel.

And the time now was eleven. I'd slept a grand total of four hours. Actually, I'd downed an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠energy drink last night too, so it had taken me about an hour to fall asleep. I'd gotten maybe three hours, tops.

I didn't have anything going on today, so I'd figured I could follow her into the game and then sleep in as long as I wanted. I never imagined the doorbell would ring after three hours.

...Her name was Lee Jiyeon, I think?

Had that been a confession?

I'd gotten incredibly popular since coming to this world, but I'd never actually received a confession. The only reason I could think of was that they were simply too embarrassed to do it. In my original world, that would've been pure narcissism. In this one, it was pretty much accurate.

As a matter of fact, the general consensus here was that a woman confessing directly to a man put too much pressure on him. And if you really thought about it, even asking for someone's number skirted the edge of being a confession. In this world, getting someone's number sat a notch above a simple show of interest, but still a step below an actual confession.

Anyway, if I kept living in this world, I was bound to receive a confession sooner or later.

And when I did... should I accept?

I sank into thought. Of course, the whole "there's someone I like more than the person confessing" dilemma wasn't something I needed to worry about. In a world where one man had to handle ninety-nine women, thinking a harem was strange would actually be the strange thing.

As for worrying I'd get knifed or killed — that was a concern for people I'd just met, not anyone I actually trusted.

For the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠time being... I supposed Hyojin and Ina were about the only ones I could really trust? Well, I could always add more going forward. This world had plenty of normal people, after all.

And yet I was still torn. If I had to put it into words: I'd been starving all day, ready to binge myself sick — but then I actually arrived at a place where food stretched on without end, and even a little sampling was enough to fill me up.

...Well, for now, maybe I'd refrain from confessing to anyone myself. I was already receiving so much love in this world that I didn't have any particular urge to go out and do something right this minute. And even if that urge did come up, I could always act on it without actually dating anyone. There hadn't been any pushback when I'd hugged Ina before, or when I'd stroked Hyojin's hair.

And if I actually received a confession, I could think about it then. That would be plenty of time.

"...Ah, forget it. I'm too sleepy. My brain's not working."