Ugh.

Ugh.

As soon as I saw myself on the TV screen, I reacted out loud. An orange mosaic blob entering the hospital. Honestly, it looked impossible to tell who it was with the naked eye, but as the actual person in that scene, I could tell. That was me and Mom going into the hospital yesterday.

Seeing my disgusted reaction, Dad seemed convinced. He murmured softly while looking at the mosaic figure.

"Wow, our Hyunwoo has made it big. Appearing on public broadcasting and everything."

"Is this really making it big?"

I reflexively argued back at his lukewarm response. It's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not like showing up on the news automatically means you've succeeded. No matter how you look at it, this feels more like being put on display than anything. Besides, is it even allowed to film someone like that without permission?

While I was having that short exchange with Dad, the sound of footsteps padding across the floorboards drew closer.

"What's going on?"

The owner of those footsteps was Hyeonseo, who had just finished washing dishes in the kitchen and was about to head back to her room. It was rare to see me watching TV next to Dad, so she must have gotten curious about what we were doing.

"Hey, Hyeonseo. Come take a look at this."

"Why, what is it?"

Dad called her over again without any tact. I waved her off, telling her to just go, but she came over anyway and fixed her eyes on the loud TV.

"Your brother's on the news."

"Oh, really?"

"Ah, it's already gone."

But the news segment had passed in that brief moment. At the bottom of the screen, the words Idiopathic Therianthropic Syndrome were the only thing left, fading slowly before disappearing.

I knew it was a rare case, but I never thought it would end up on the news without me even knowing. Had a photo someone took gotten spread around?

I was the person at the center of the topic, but maybe because it was the weekend, it didn't feel real that it had become news. All I felt was a vague, indifferent sense of I guess that's how it is.

"What the…."

"It was real! Hyunwoo, you saw it too, right?"

As Hyeonseo quickly lost interest and tried to return to her room, Dad started to protest, sounding a little wronged. He then looked to me for backup, but I headed back to my room with an indifferent expression and answered sullenly.

"I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠don't know."

"Hey, why are you making Dad look like a liar!"

From behind me as I slipped back into my room, I could hear Dad's desperate voice. It was better for me if Hyeonseo didn't believe him anyway.

After filling my stomach properly, I returned to the computer. We were each killing time on our game consoles and PCs when it happened.

"But what if it doesn't get better?"

"Huh?"

My little sister suddenly asked a short question about my condition. What would I do if it never got cured? That was what Hyeonseo wanted to know.

Well, I hadn't thought that far ahead. I mean, they say research is active overseas too. And since it's classified as a disease, a treatment should come out eventually. That was my honest feeling. It was also why I didn't feel any real sense of crisis. The smart doctors would figure something out.

So I brushed off her question lightly.

"Come on, no way."

Mom came home late that evening. Both hands were full of black plastic bags, no doubt from chatting with some aunties somewhere about who knows what. She set her spoils down on the dining table and spoke.

"Lee Hyunwoo, come here."

"Why?"

Mom suddenly called my name, rustling through one of the bags before pulling something out. What emerged from the black plastic was a wide apricot-colored belt…?

"If I tell you to come, just come without complaining."

"What is it though."

At my 'why' Mom gestured impatiently. I still had no idea what the object was, so I approached her side cautiously, eyeing it with suspicion. Mom silently waved her hand to the side, motioning for me to turn around.

"What is it? What?"

"A belly band. I thought it would be good to wrap it around starting from the tail."

What I'd thought was a wide belt turned out to be a belly band. While explaining, Mom pressed my tail flat against my back and wrapped the band around my stomach. It was the kind of thing normally used to hold hot packs in place. My once-fluffy tail was now squashed tight against my spine.

The moment the velcro fastened in front of my belly—

"This way there's no worry of it getting caught anywhere, right?"

"Ah, yeah…."

Mom added a few satisfied words. This was the tail issue I'd been meaning to bring up with her someday. With this, it didn't look like it would get snagged and break. She really had been worrying about me properly.

"This way the tail won't stick out, right?"

"That's true, but…."

I agreed with Mom but glanced behind me. No matter how hard it was pressed and covered, the volume refused to disappear. Even if I threw on a coat, the back of my waist would clearly bulge out like a belly. Still, unless I cut it off, this was the best we could do. I felt satisfied even with Mom's clumsy solution.

Then I touched my ears through the hairnet and asked.

"Then what about the ears?"

"Wear a hat or a hoodie or something."

Mom's answer came back so easily. Certainly, if I had both the belly band and a hat, I'd stand out a lot less than before, but… the orange hair was going to draw attention no matter what. Would I have to dye it black?

I kept lightly pressing my bouncy ears with my palm, thinking about future measures, when—

"Honey, did you see the news about our kid?"

"News? What news."

Dad suddenly called out to Mom from the living room and started talking about the news we'd seen earlier. When Mom asked what he meant, Dad gestured weakly at the TV with the remote in his hand.

"It looked like they filmed you and Hyunwoo going to the hospital."

"What kind of nonsense is that…."

Mom, who was hearing about it for the first time just like me, frowned deeply as if asking what kind of rubbish that was and took a few steps toward Dad.

"Hyunwoo, you tell her yourself."

"Why me again."

At Mom's attitude, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Dad latched onto me once more. Soon Mom was looking at me with a puzzled expression too.

"The name of the disease I caught, the photo of the hospital we went to, and even me with the mosaic—all of it was on the news."

"See?"

"What?"

After my detailed explanation, Mom let out a short gasp of shock. Unlike me, whose face had gone pale as I told the truth, Dad looked triumphant now that his words had been proven.

"It really came on the news?"

"Seems like it."

Mom asked again with an incredulous look. I answered while tapping at my phone. Strangely, even though it was my own business, it felt like I was talking about someone else's affairs.

When I searched for Idiopathic Therianthropic Syndrome online afterward, articles had popped up from three hours ago to two hours ago. All the different news outlets were recycling the exact same photo as if they'd made an agreement. It was unmistakably a picture of me and Mom—the same image we'd seen on the TV news screen moments ago. It seemed that was the only photo that had been released.

The angle looked like it had been taken from far away from the hospital. Someone must have coincidentally snapped it and either tipped off a reporter or leaked it online, and that had become the topic.

"Look at this."

"Ugh, it's real."

When I showed Mom one of the articles, she nearly jumped out of her skin and stared at the screen with a serious expression.

"You should rethink going to the hospital."

"Is it that bad?"

Mom brought up the hospital with a grave face. I unconsciously asked back if it was really that serious. Come on, I'd been in a good mood thinking about getting my allowance.

"Anyway, just keep that in mind."

"Yeah…."

I answered shortly, feeling downcast at Mom's announcement. My grand plan to spend the money I'd earned by selling my body to the hospital was about to go up in smoke.

Just one day after that news article appeared.

It was Sunday—a day the hospital was famous for not accepting patients. On that very weekend, the hospital contacted us first.

Huh?

It was a sudden phone call that came Sunday afternoon. The number started with our local area code, so I answered without suspicion. A polite, low voice came through.

The circumstances had led to this point. Because of the news articles, the hospital was going to get noisy from now on. The location in the photo would probably be identified quickly, and reporters would inevitably show up whether we liked it or not. If I tried to walk there in that situation, the swarm of journalists would cause chaos. So he was offering to drive us himself in his personal car.

I had no reason to refuse, but the problem was Mom. She'd just told me yesterday not to go to the hospital. Still, this changed the story.

"I think I should talk to Mom first."

"Ah, yes. I'll contact the guardian as well."

The call ended after a short, polite goodbye. I wasn't sure what kind of conversation would happen between the professor and Mom, but deep down I hoped it would go well. At least for the sake of my generous allowance.