Don't Lie to Me
I shoved my smartphone into my pocket and hurried home.
I deliberately didn't check the message.
I had to make sure Jiyu didn't see that I had read it yet.
If that little "1" disappeared, I’d have to reply, and I wasn't confident I could do that right away.
'How did Jiyu find out...?'
No, maybe I was jumping to conclusions.
There was no guarantee that the "news" Jiyu was talking about had anything to do with TS Syndrome.
It’s not like there’s only one news story in the world. It could be about something else entirely.
It had to be.
My clothes were already soaked with cold sweat, but I didn't care. I’d kicked my shoes off haphazardly, leaving them toppled over, but I didn't have time to tidy up.
I didn't even shower; I turned on my computer immediately.
I had a regular check-up tomorrow. I had to wake up early, so if I didn't get to sleep soon, I’d definitely be exhausted. I didn't have time for this, but this was a genuine emergency.
As soon as the screen lit up, I opened the internet.
First, I checked if any new articles had popped up. I couldn't find the name "Baek Eunhae" anywhere.
Next, I checked YouTube and other "wreckers" (gossip channels) to see if anyone had posted anything. There was absolutely no information related to my identity or anything that could lead to a guess.
Finally, I scanned the community boards, but there were only clickbait posts. Nothing about me.
The post I had used for verification had already been deleted.
...The internet was clean.
I searched more thoroughly than last time, but there was nothing of the sort.
Maybe I really had been too hasty. My heart, which had been pounding, finally started to settle down.
I cupped my face with both hands as if washing it.
"Huuu..."
After sitting there blankly for a few minutes, I grabbed my smartphone.
'Other news...'
Even if my identity hadn't spread, what kind of news could Jiyu possibly link to me?
I was just an ordinary, unemployed person who had graduated from university and was living quietly.
With trembling fingers, I sent a reply to Jiyu.
Instead of a reply, a link arrived.
The link was embedded, so I could check the news information without even clicking it.
It was the same news I had seen, the one Siu and Sia had watched.
So much for jumping to conclusions—what else could she be linking me to if not this?
My prediction had been right after all.
I wasn't happy that I was right. In fact, I had been praying that I was wrong.
'How does Jiyu...?'
I had no idea how she could have found out about this. Was it leaked from the hospital? Jiyu didn't work there. Did her parents work at the hospital? I didn't know that much.
How did she connect the news to me?
But one thing was certain.
Jiyu knew what had happened to my body.
When I didn't reply, Jiyu sent a flurry of messages.
I felt a chill. I hadn't realized that the phrase "it can't be helped" could be so terrifying.
There was no need to ask what she meant by that.
Whether she spread my identity or told people around me, I couldn't afford to get on Jiyu's bad side.
Messages kept coming from Jiyu without a break.
...I’d been seen through.
Maybe it was because the smartphone screen was small, or the glass was cracked, or maybe it was just because my hands were shaking, but I kept making typos.
After a bit of hesitation, I sent her a location.
A cafe a little distance away from where I worked part-time.
I didn't want to go too far, but I was reluctant to meet too close to home either.
The appointment was set.
What on earth would we talk about when we met? What kind of expression should I wear?
I kept turning my smartphone screen off and on for no reason.
"Ughhh...!"
I ruffled my hair.
The meeting with Jiyu was scheduled for the weekend.
Today was a weekday.
It was my day off from my part-time job, but I had to go out.
The reason was my regular check-up.
A damn annoying, damn time-consuming, and damn meaningless task.
Anyway, every time I went, they did the same tests, and they didn't really tell me anything.
Not that I asked any questions, either.
I didn't really know what I should ask, or even what I could ask.
After all, you have to know a certain amount to even ask a question.
Actually, they did tell me about my body even if I didn't ask. They’d say what my levels were and how they compared to previous results.
It’s just that they used technical jargon, so I couldn't understand a word of it.
When the time came, the black car was waiting in front of my studio apartment, just like last time.
How many times had I done this now? The third? The fourth?
I got in the car. I had left five minutes early, as usual.
"Hello."
"Hello..."
The driver always greeted me silently and never said a word while driving.
I didn't start a conversation, and neither did the driver.
The car didn't shake much even when it started moving. I leaned my body against the window and stared blankly at the scenery outside.
'How on earth did Jiyu find out...?'
My head was filled with thoughts of Jiyu. I was a little scared of the weekend approaching.
Today, I wanted to say something to the driver.
Not out of suspicion, just...
"Driver, do you know who I am...?"
The driver kept his eyes on the road and answered briefly.
"Of course I do. Ms. Eunhae."
Honestly, the driver was so reticent that I was worried he might ignore me, so I was relieved he answered.
"Do you... know anything else?"
The driver tilted his head. It was understandable, considering I usually sat quietly every week and then suddenly asked a question like this.
I looked at the driver's face through the rearview mirror. He was still staring straight ahead.
"That you used to be a man?"
"That's right... So you do know..."
There was a brief silence.
"What... what do you think about it...?"
"About what?"
"Like, is it gross or something..."
Before I could even finish my sentence, the driver shook his head slightly.
"Oh, not at all."
It might have been a scripted answer, but I felt a little relieved.
I had nothing more to say. I turned my head to look out the window.
We traveled like that for a while, and then I narrowed my eyes, something catching my attention in the scenery outside.
This eight-lane road. These tall buildings. This atmosphere.
It looked familiar.
This is...
'...This is near Siu's place.'
With my hand still on the window, I looked at the driver through the rearview mirror.
"D-driver. How much further is it to the hospital from here?"
"We're almost there."
"...What?"
Not long after, the hospital came into view.
Siu's place and the hospital were right next to each other—why hadn't I noticed that until now?
I had looked at the map so many times; had I just been looking at it too carelessly?
I entered the hospital. The smell of disinfectant, which I was now somewhat used to, hit me.
I’d just go through the usual tests until evening, anyway.
I already had a portable battery in my pocket. If I played games on my smartphone during the downtime, time passed a little faster.
The test where they attached weird things to my head and had various images slide by was no different from last week or the week before.
And then, they’d ask me questions again.
The doctor in front of me spoke.
"Have there been any unusual symptoms compared to your previous state?"
Aren't they tired of asking the same question every week? If there was anything different about my body, I would have told them already.
Ah.
There was something I’d recently discovered.
"As I said last time, please tell me everything without holding anything back."
"...Well."
I couldn't bring myself to look the doctor in the eye. I shouldn't have thought about it.
The doctor narrowed his eyes, looking as if he’d caught something.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of."
"...Um, I don't have any body hair."
"Are you experiencing something like hair loss?"
"No, it's... it's like I have alopecia universalis..."
The doctor paused for a moment and then started typing. There were no other questions I could answer.
I thought today's check-up would end like that, but it was a little different.
It wasn't the tests themselves, but the doctor's attitude after finishing them—especially after the final survey.
Normally, this was where it ended.
It was the perfect time for them to say, "Thank you for your hard work," and send me off.
But as soon as the doctor saw the survey, he kept me there.
"Ms. Eunhae, please wait a little longer today."
He said that, but then he didn't speak.
It didn't seem like he was staying silent because he had nothing to say; it looked like he was organizing his thoughts.
I placed both hands on my thighs and darted my eyes around.
The bookshelf filled with medical texts, the window where the outside had grown a bit dark, the dust rolling on the floor.
After leaving me sitting there for a long time, the doctor finally opened his mouth.
"...Ms. Eunhae."
"Y-yes...!"
"You filled out the survey truthfully, didn't you?"
I tilted my head.
"Yes..."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes...! I didn't lie..."
The doctor picked up a tablet that had been sitting in the corner. When he turned the screen on, a graph appeared on the slightly dusty display.
Jagged red and blue lines were drawn against a white background.
"Do you know why we perform an EEG?"
"Yes? Oh, I have a rough idea..."
The doctor took a breath.
"There's a section in the EEG that measures emotional stimulus response. It measures the degree of limbic system activation when specific visual stimuli are provided. In today's results, the response to male images was significantly higher than to female images. The difference in P300 amplitude was quite large, and the response in the amygdala was the same—"
I let the doctor's words go in one ear and out the other.
Even if he used difficult words, I couldn't understand them, so why didn't the doctor know that?
Anyway, I assumed this was my EEG graph.
So what about it?
"However, looking at your survey responses, you marked your interest in the opposite sex as generally low. The same goes for the questions regarding sexual orientation. If you compare them directly with the EEG readings, the two results are pointing in quite different directions."
The doctor swiped the tablet, and the survey items I had filled out appeared.
"What I just showed you was last week's record."
When the doctor swiped the tablet again, the screen changed.
I thought it was the same screen, but the shape of the graph was slightly different, and the date was different.
The doctor swiped the screen once more.
"This is the record from the week before last."
My hands, resting on my knees, trembled. Without realizing it, I was staring intently at the tablet.
"..."
The doctor looked me straight in the eye and said,
"You have been responding dishonestly."