Chapter 29
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 29
Chapter Title: First Regular Checkup
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The band-aid box I'd set aside was right in front of me.
'Will a band-aid really work?'
Band-aids weren't made for this kind of thing, but I'd seen illustrations online showing them used this way.
It was too much hassle to go out and buy patches, and ordering them online just for one use felt wasteful.
I swallowed hard as I stared at the band-aid.
To check if I really needed to wear one before heading out tomorrow, I changed into my outdoor clothes first.
I stood in front of the mirror without applying the band-aid.
'...It really doesn't show.'
Standing straight and normally, there was absolutely no issue.
I stretched my arms up like Sia had stopped me from doing before.
This was fine too.
But the moment I leaned back for a full, refreshing stretch, my eyes met the ones on my upper body.
Small, but clearly visible.
Si-woo was right—it really didn't show unless I made these kinds of movements.
I applied the band-aid and repeated the same actions.
There was a slight trace of something being there, but it didn't look embarrassing.
'...Guess I'll wear it when I go out.'
I peeled off the band-aid and changed back into my pajamas.
Today was the day for my first regular checkup.
Just like I'd tested yesterday, I applied the band-aid.
I pressed down firmly to make sure it stuck well.
The sensation of something attached to my chest felt a bit awkward, but there was no helping it.
Five minutes before the scheduled time from the checkup reminder text, I heard a loud car engine idling outside, so I peeked out.
A large black van that didn't fit in with the rundown villa complex where I lived was parked there.
They'd said they'd pick me up, and they really meant it.
I could've lived near the hospital, but the lease on my current place was a hassle, so I decided to stay.
They'd even offered free dorms at the hospital, but it felt off, so I turned it down.
I didn't want special treatment ruining my normal life.
Plus, I had trouble sleeping in new places anyway.
Not wanting to keep the van waiting, I hurried downstairs.
The door slid open as soon as I stepped out.
"Hello..."
"Yes, hello. You're Baek Eun-hae, right?"
"Yes, yes."
After a brief greeting, I got in the car. Luckily, the driver seemed quiet.
Thanks to that, the ride to the hospital felt comfortable.
Unlike the trip to the hair salon.
I got carsick easily, so I'd been a little worried, but the driver's skills were impressive.
Was he some National Intelligence Service agent?
I was spacing out, staring out the window, when the hospital suddenly appeared before us.
It was huge.
The biggest I'd ever seen. The buildings blurred together so much I couldn't even tell where one ended and another began.
The parking lot was packed solid with cars, and people streamed in and out of the entrance.
Instead of the main entrance, we went somewhere else, and suddenly we were inside the hospital building.
This wasn't the general ward—there were hardly any people around.
A stranger approached me.
"Baek Eun-hae, please follow me this way."
I just followed obediently.
A hospital was a hospital.
White hallways, white walls, crisp air that felt like it was disinfecting my lungs.
Like last time, they drew blood, had me go in and out of weird machines, and took body scans.
Having done it once before, it didn't faze me.
"Open your mouth and say 'ahh.'"
"Ahh—"
A cool, stinging sensation flooded the back of my throat. This part always felt the weirdest when they took the photo.
The alcohol swab on my vein made me want to yank out the needle in my arm.
"All done. Please wait in the lounge."
After the last photo, I sat bored in the lounge for what felt like forever.
They must've forgotten about me—I was left there so long.
With nothing to do, I played on my smartphone until the battery turned red before I knew it.
'I should bring a power bank next checkup...'
I turned off the screen to save battery when someone called my name.
"Sorry for the wait. Now we'll do the consultation and a few more tests, then you're done."
I stood up and replied.
"Okay..."
We crossed a white hallway into a small room where a woman in glasses was sitting.
The doctor who handled me was different every time.
Maybe specialists from various fields rotated through.
She smiled warmly at me as I sat down and spoke kindly.
"Your condition is stable, and the readings have normalized. No issues with daily life?"
"Oh, no."
"Mind if I ask a few more questions?"
"Sure."
"Any changes in taste, touch, smell, or other senses?"
"No. Well..."
Suddenly, I remembered how spicy ramen had tasted way too hot.
But should I even mention something like that? I hesitated.
What should I say?
'...Ramen was too spicy?'
As I trailed off, lost in thought, the doctor pressed gently, like she wouldn't let it slide.
"Even the tiniest thing is fine. Really."
"Um, the ramen tasted too spicy..."
She hadn't expected that—her lips twitched up for a second.
She smoothed it away quickly, but I saw it. Definitely.
"So, a change in taste?"
"Yes, I think so... Not sure about anything else."
She typed something on her keyboard.
A random thought crossed my mind.
Talking about taste made me curious about something unrelated but nagging.
I needed a clear answer to put my mind at ease.
"Um, can I... drink alcohol?"
I regretted asking immediately, but the words were already out.
She tilted her head slightly, then smiled.
"Alcohol... I wouldn't recommend it as a doctor, but yes, you're an adult."
She glanced at her monitor, typed, and scrolled with the mouse wheel.
Done checking? She looked back at me.
And casually dropped a bombshell.
"Any sexual activity recently?"
"Pardon? What??"
How could she say that so nonchalantly?
Doctor perks?
When I didn't answer, she repeated it, confirming I'd heard right.
"It's a necessary question. Including intercourse or any similar physical contact."
"Oh, no."
I hadn't even masturbated yet—what sex?
The unexpected question blanked my mind.
Seeing my panic, she explained.
"Risk of transmission through fluids or secretions looks low right now. But direct mucosal contact needs more checking."
"...Is this actually a disease?"
"Yes. Academia classifies it as one. We don't know the cause or mechanism yet."
"Um... my name won't end up in the disease name, right?"
She chuckled like it was ridiculous, then checked her monitor.
"No, no. Our official name is 'Acute Gender Morphosis Syndrome.' In English, AGMS."
I didn't get it all but nodded like I did.
"Ah, okay..."
"...News might break soon. Thought you should know ahead."
More questions followed.
Sleep hours, mood swings, sudden emotional bursts, dreams, relationships with people.
After the direct talk, she handed me a questionnaire.
Something like sex questions would've been easier as checkboxes on a form.
I thought about giving feedback but dropped it. Who was I to say?
Scanning the questions, most were about mental health.
Familiar ones mixed with new ones.
[Feel sexual desire when seeing women]
[Body feels unfamiliar]
[See yourself in mirror as different from before]
Stuff like that.
Probably made just for me.
And there were tons—terrifyingly many.
Prepped all this in a week?
I just checked them off steadily.
Some repeated with wording tweaks.
Focused the whole time, and 30 minutes flew by.
Hand cramped from holding the pen so long.
Submitted it, then they started the test with weird stuff on my head and showing pictures.
"Don't close your eyes."
"Okay..."
Head loaded with gadgets, fixed in place staring at the monitor.
Plains, animals, then nude women, nude men flashed by.
Why do this?
"Hmm..."
Test over, they removed the head gear.
The staff nearby stared at the monitor with intrigued looks—different from last time.
What showed up to get that reaction?
I sneaked a peek: graphs and English I couldn't read.
"Good job. You can head home now. We'll drive you—follow him."
Her finger pointed down the hall to the driver from earlier.
"See you at next week's checkup. Take care. Call if anything unusual happens."
Couldn't see outside from inside, but the sun had fully set.
I'd worn the band-aid out of necessity, but it wasn't bad.
No need to fuss, and it did its job well enough.
Now to peel it off.
Stuck too good—I scraped gently with my nail and peeled slowly.
The cool air hit the stuffy spot instantly—pure relief.
If a band-aid felt this bad, how awful was a bra?
Couldn't even imagine.
Lost in that thought, I turned on the shower. Warm water enveloped me.
Today felt extra long. And weekly?
Showered and hit the bed.
No energy for anything else.
Just get through the promise with Sia this week.
Checked texts one last time.
[H Department Store, — Street, by 1 PM.]
I'd hardly been to department stores, and this neighborhood was totally new.
Before sleep, I researched on my phone.
Quite the adventure—two transfers.
I simulated the route in my head and drifted off.
Thinking about tomorrow's meetup with Sia.