A Small Question and Thursday Morning
Thursday morning passed with that small question lingering in my mind. For now, I set aside the secret with Dad and headed down to the convenience store as usual, eager to grab some snacks. 'Doesn't look like there are any reporters around.'
I'd been worried reporters might show up, but now that it was Thursday after the weekend and Children's Day, there were no more pesky journalists with cameras in sight. The hospital had already warned of strict legal action, and more importantly, the story just wasn't newsworthy anymore. A high school boy catching a rare disease that gave him animal ears and a tail before turning him into a girl might seem shocking at first glance, but to most people it was just another "So what?" kind of thing.
Meanwhile, the world was full of far more sensational stories. Like a once-popular actor getting into a drunk-driving accident and hitting someone. Or the school violence scandal surrounding an idol the media used to call the nation's little sister. As new scandals broke, the persistent reporters eventually disappeared. 'They're no different from hyenas.'
Thinking back to how relentless they'd been still made my skin crawl. Now I was nothing but bones to them as a news story. Like proper hyenas, they'd moved on to fresher meat. It was natural, if a little sad, that people flocked to bad news over good. A rare disease that had nothing to do with them was never going to compete with a celebrity's fatal drunk-driving crash or the dark past of a rising star.
That was how the world of news worked, bitter ending and all. As I left the hospital room and walked down the hallway, I spotted two familiar faces from the ward—Hye-eun and her mom, the same pair I'd run into in the corridor not long ago.
Quietly sneaking up behind them, I tapped Hye-eun's back with the tip of my tail.
“Ah! Tail Unnie!”
At the light touch, she whipped her head around and immediately shouted “Tail Unnie!” at the top of her lungs. Since she was just a kid, I didn't bother correcting her. It gave me the creeps when Hyunseo called me that, but hearing it from little ones like her felt oddly okay. Besides, asking them to call me “oppa” would only confuse their still-developing sense of identity.
“Oh my, you startled me.”
Hye-eun's mom turned as well, looking surprised—whether from my silent approach or her daughter's sudden high-pitched yell, I couldn't tell. Either way, she quickly asked a question.
“Is Hye-eun going home today?”
“Yeah!”
Instead of using the difficult word “discharge,” I asked if she was going home, and Hye-eun answered with a little jump. She was wearing regular clothes instead of her usual hospital gown. It seemed her time here was finally over. I vaguely remembered her being hospitalized for an allergy and double-checked.
“You said Hye-eun was admitted because of an allergy, right?”
“Yes, she has a severe shellfish allergy…”
Her mom explained right away. A shellfish allergy meant avoiding not just shrimp and crab, but all kinds of seafood. It was a shame—she couldn't eat something as delicious as shrimp just because of an allergy.
“Is she all better now?”
Since she was being discharged, she obviously was, but I asked anyway. Her mom smiled softly and gently stroked Hye-eun's hair, looking a little wistful herself.
“Yes, the swelling and symptoms have gone down a lot.”
“Oh dear, this must be tough for her.”
Even though she'd said Hye-eun was fine, I couldn't help feeling sorry and lightly pressed both of the girl's cheeks. It might fade naturally someday, but allergies like this often meant a lifetime of watching what you ate. Thanks to my cousins, I knew a bit about that stress, so seeing Hye-eun in front of me made me feel strangely sorry for her.
“I'm okay now!”
“If you eat shrimp or anything like that, it'll hurt again.”
Hye-eun answered brightly that she was fine, but her attitude showed she didn't really understand the allergy yet. I warned her at her level.
“Hek.”
At the simple explanation, she let out a short gasp. Judging by the fact she'd been hospitalized, it wasn't a mild case. Allergies required the person themselves to be careful with food.
“So you have to be careful, okay?”
“Yeah!”
When I said that to the now-frightened Hye-eun, she gave a short but energetic reply. It was nice to hear such a lively answer, even if she probably didn't fully get it.
Anyway, Hye-eun was going through the discharge process and leaving the ward. While I stood there in my hospital gown to see her off, her mom offered a few polite but warm words.
“Stay strong and take good care of yourself.”
“Yes, have a safe trip home. Bye, Hye-eun~”
After saying our goodbyes, I waved at Hye-eun, who had become friends with me over the past few days thanks to my tail.
“Hye-eun, say bye-bye to Unnie too.”
“Bye-bye.”
Following her mom's words, Hye-eun waved her hand. Her tiny, spread-out fingers like little maple leaves wiggled cutely. She was probably around first grade or kindergarten age. Kids that age seemed easy to talk to and befriend.
Around the time that one young patient was discharged, I was still wandering the ward in my hospital gown. The things I bought at the convenience store were mostly snacks and drinks—easy-to-eat treats I could enjoy while gaming or watching TV. I heard snack thefts happened pretty often in other rooms, but I didn't have to worry in my private room.
After buying a bag full of snacks and sandwiches, I hummed a little tune and returned to my room. The drinks and sandwiches went straight into the fridge. I left the snacks on the bed and ate them at the table. A whole week of forgetting about school and just eating and playing—it was paradise. But they say happy times fly by quickly. Before I knew it, Friday had passed, and Saturday morning, the day of discharge, had arrived.
It was the discharge date Mom and I had agreed on. Preparations began whether I wanted them to or not. Standing beside Mom, who was busily moving around the room, I grumbled.
“Ah, I don't want to go.”
Mom, who had been moving her hands nonstop, suddenly stopped. She made a playful face and glared at me. Even a million won apparently wasn't enough to make her budge on this. While putting the hospital gown I'd grown attached to back in its place, Mom started up her usual lecture in response to my complaint.
“Aigoo, you weren't even wearing your tail cover, were you?”
If I said “yeah,” the nagging would start right away. I pretended not to hear and was about to grab my wallet when—
“Are you ready?”
“Almost.”
The Professor's question as he opened the door cut our conversation short. Perfect timing, Professor. I cheered inwardly and gave him a mental thumbs-up. Mom didn't seem interested in dragging out that topic either, so she quickly finished packing and followed behind the Professor with me in tow.
As always, we rode in the Professor's car. The distinctive middle-aged-man smell tickled my nose a little.
“Actually, you don't have to insist on using my car anymore.”
As the car rumbled to life and pulled away, the Professor muttered as if talking to himself. He meant there was no need to stick to his car anymore. It was probably his conclusion after checking on the now-quiet reporters.
“I haven't seen any reporters lately either.”
I said, recalling my experience in the ward. The Professor explained matter-of-factly while taking one hand off the wheel to gesture.
“Because we threatened legal action.”
It was strange how he said it like it was no big deal. Even reporters who lived without rules apparently had their own lines they wouldn't cross. Was it the law they feared, or the hospital's response? It felt quite different from the reporters I'd seen at school. Maybe they looked down on the school compared to the hospital?
While I was thinking that, the Professor added a few more words from the driver's seat.
“There was also a bigger story that broke and pulled them away.”
“Yeah, that one's been all over the news too.”
Mom chimed in from beside me, apparently knowing exactly which incident the Professor was referring to. Another big story. Probably the drunk-driving accident that had been dominating the news—an actor who appeared in all kinds of dramas, movies, and even variety shows had gotten completely wasted and driven onto the sidewalk, causing a massive tragedy. With his high profile, at least one out of every five news segments featured him. Thanks to that, the reporters had lost interest in me.
“Aigoo, that damn alcohol.”
“Exactly.”
The two adults wrapped up their conversation with “alcohol is the problem.” Not long after, the Professor made a big turn with the wheel, and our apartment building—the one I hadn't seen in a week—came into view.
“Thank you for the ride.”
“Yes, take care on your way back.”
The Professor dropped us off and left with a polite farewell. Why did coming home after just a week feel so awkward? I returned to the house as if nothing had happened and started unpacking. Hyunseo wasn't in her room even though it was Saturday morning.
“Where'd she go?”
“She asked me to wake her up this morning. Said she had somewhere to go with her friends.”
When I pointed at the empty room and asked Mom, she said Hyunseo had asked to be woken up and then left somewhere. I'd been thinking of asking what she'd gotten for Parents' Day, but… oh well, it didn't matter. It was computer time I hadn't been able to enjoy for a whole week.
'Ah, I should look into buying a computer first.'
I was sick of fighting over the computer every time. I'd just buy a decent one so Hyunseo and I could use separate ones. But at the time, I didn't know—the world was in the middle of AI breaking through the singularity, sending computer prices skyrocketing beyond belief.