Chapter 2
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: 18 Months Have Vanished
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The room was shrouded in silence.
The room, that is. Just the room.
The screams exploding in my head were so deafening it felt like my brain would burst any second.
'Aaaah—!'
The ripping scream couldn't escape my lips and just circled endlessly in my throat.
As if I'd forgotten how to make a sound, I just heaved ragged breaths and clutched the blanket tight in my fists.
I pitifully tugged at the pajama neckline that kept slipping off my shoulders and swung my feet over the edge of the bed.
The pajamas that had fit me just right yesterday, comfortably loose, wouldn't even let my hands poke out of the sleeves anymore.
With trembling hands, I finally yanked them free and held them up in front of my face.
Now they started coming into focus, one by one.
These hands I hadn't really looked at properly earlier in my panic.
I stared blankly at my palms. They were so small.
My fingers stretched out thin and delicate, smooth curves instead of those knobby joints.
And why were my nails so tiny and pristine?
I drifted toward the full-length mirror like I was in a trance.
I didn't have the guts to look up, so I stood there for ages, just staring at the floor.
What came into view were ankles so slender they looked like they'd snap, and tiny white toes peeking out from under the pajama hem.
Slowly. Incredibly slowly, I lifted my head.
The me I knew wasn't in the mirror.
A woman with a completely unfamiliar face.
There stood the same college freshman-looking girl I'd glimpsed in the bathroom mirror earlier.
What was it? A fragile frame made entirely of fat and soft skin, without a trace of muscle.
At this height, maybe around 140cm?
If yesterday's me had seen this girl, I might've felt some protective instinct.
'Why am I so damn short…!'
As I made a dumbstruck face, the girl in the mirror mirrored it exactly.
The next thought that flashed through my mind was a very real grievance.
'Ah…….'
Something every Korean guy has to go through.
The military.
The most painful time in my life, but also when I tried hardest to live like everyone else, normally.
"My……. My military service. My 18 months……!"
My voice came out thin and trembling. 18 months.
The corporal discharge I'd earned with my youth was gone, vanished overnight due to some inexplicable mutation.
Memories flashed by like a montage: standing night guard duty in the front-line mountains of Gangwon Province, cutting through -20°C biting winds.
The snow-clearing ops at dawn, mowing poison ivy in summer that left my whole body itching, and forcing down those tasteless meals while watching the seniors' moods…….
And my service number got messed up, so I couldn't even enjoy my last days properly.
'Discharging as a full corporal was the greatest achievement of my life….'
Now there wasn't a scrap of muscle left on my body.
Not just brittle if cold—arms so frail I could snap them with both hands.
A body that couldn't protect anything anymore. One perfect for being protected by someone. Or violated.
'I wasn't exactly built sturdy enough to protect anyone to begin with….'
"Ughhh……."
As the resentment over the military faded, one problem popped into my head.
'What about reserve duty? What do I do about this year's training?'
Just imagining it was horrifying. Showing up to reserve training in this body, squeezing into combat gear?
I could picture the internet communities exploding: some crazy chick shows up in uniform despite being a girl.
No, they'd catch me at ID check right away.
But if I don't go? Violation of the Military Service Act, criminal record.
Go and get legally punished. Don't go and get legally punished.
No way out.
"Wait, more than that…… next month's graduation……."
I ruffled my hair furiously. College graduation was in a month.
The diploma I'd barely earned after four years of pouring money into tuition.
Mom and Dad would come with flowers, but instead of their son, some random girl standing there blankly—what would their faces look like?
'Where's our son?'
'I'm your son, Mom. I went to sleep and woke up like this.'
No way that conversation flies.
Son vanishes overnight, replaced by some mystery woman.
No, I couldn't even go to graduation like this anyway.
Why? Why did this happen to me?
Me turning into this…….
A disease? Some illness?
If so, hospital…… right, I need to go to the hospital.
But which hospital?
OB-GYN? Urology? Internal medicine?
Or just barge into a university hospital?
'No, can't do that. Absolutely not.'
If I just blurt out that I've turned into this, it'd draw public attention in no time.
Definitely get reported as a rare case in academic circles.
How would the doctors look at me?
Like a patient who really needs treatment?
Or just fresh material for a paper to boost their fame?
If it's really a disease turning men into women, it'd blow up not just in medicine but society-wide.
I don't hate this country.
If anything, I'm pretty patriotic.
But when it comes to how the state protects individuals, sorry, but my distrust runs bone-deep.
Like that story where you dig up your own backyard, find Goryeo celadon or whatever, and instead of thanks and compensation, the state turns your yard into a dig site and says 'Don't come in till we're done, more artifacts might turn up.'
My imagination kept spiraling out of control.
I pictured myself strapped to a cold operating table, limbs bound.
Under blinding lights shining in my eyes, researchers whose faces I couldn't see would surely say,
'This is for the good of the world. Just bear with it a little.'
Or maybe first they'd run CTs, MRIs, X-rays?
Then extract every fluid they could—blood, spinal fluid, unidentified secretions—inject mystery drugs, and monitor my reactions.
They wouldn't listen even if I screamed in pain.
I'm just a job-hunting nobody with no connections, no money, no power.
No one would look for me if I vanished suddenly. No breaking news.
My imagination had already dragged me to the depths of hell.
"Haa……. Haa……."
My breathing quickened, chest tightened, vision blurred.
All I wanted was a normal job like everyone else, decent paycheck, occasional drinks with friends, and to grow old ordinarily.
Ah, even as a guy, I probably wouldn't have dated anyway.
Still. Why. Now. Of all times.
"Hic, sob……."
Something hot surged up from deep in my throat.
Like a molten bead rising, clogging the middle of my neck tight.
Tears pooled in my eyes. I tilted my head back to keep them from spilling.
My vision wavered. The liquid overflowed, trailing down my cheeks relentlessly.
I wiped them roughly with the back of my hand, but once started, the tears wouldn't stop.
I had to hold it in.
No, I believed I could.
Back when I was a guy, no matter how tough, I'd grit my teeth and endure.
Even when trash seniors in the military insulted my parents' names, I'd bite my lips till they bled and clenched my fists to hold back.
Yeah. Not a girl—a guy.
So why.
Like this.
"Uh, ugh……."
Why was this throat, this frail body, trying to scream on its own?
I tried to analyze the situation coolly in my head.
I thought even if this happened, I'd stay calm.
'Guys aren't supposed to cry.'
The mirror showed a girl trying to wipe away tears.
I reached up to dab them, and the girl in the mirror did the same.
"Ugh… mmph."
When was the last time I cried? Years ago? I couldn't even remember.
"Haa, ugh… uuu……."
The sound that finally burst out gave me chills.
It wasn't the low, guttural sobbing of a man.
Of course I knew that. I'd already become this.
It wasn't deep grief or heart-wrenching wails that moved people.
A thin, leaking cry that stirred protective instincts—pitying, even.
Was this the only way this body could cry?
Then, a flash of terror hit my brain.
'What if the neighbors hear?'
Late at night, they open their door to find an unidentified woman crying in a male college student's apartment?
And if they call it a noise complaint and the cops show up?
Miserable.
This moment, having to stifle myself for the neighbors' sake—it stung so deeply, so miserably.
"Ugh… uwooo… hic."
I yanked a pillow from the bed and buried my face in it.
For a long while, all I could do was curl up inside it, trembling uncontrollably.