Another Worry — Pointless Anxiety

"Ugh…."

I had ended up with a mountain of clothes, and yet I had no idea what to put on or how to wear any of it. I was meeting Unni again for the first time in a week, so I at least wanted to look pretty for her.

But of course I still didn't know how to dress myself.

The skirt I'd worn last time… there was no way I could put that on again. And the knit sweater—I'd only worn it because she'd told me to. It was cute, sure, but my chest… showed far too blatantly.

Vrrr~

I was stuck in a useless loop of pulling clothes out and stuffing them back in, burning time for no reason, when my phone started ringing and vibrating its way across the floor in a bid for freedom.

"Hup—why does this phone always run off like that. Ahem… hello?"

"…What?"

Where had the actual point of this conversation gone? And stockings, of all things.

"Uh… I don't have any stockings. And I have to wear them!?"

That sweet-and-tart voice of hers left me dazed. It was something I always thought about—Unni treated me like a pure, ordinary girl, as if that was simply what I was.

Which… was true. And becoming that was also true. Still….

"But I really don't have any stockings."

"…Nyeh?"

I was so startled I nearly bit my tongue. How did Unni know about Sua?

"Oh… uhmm…."

I'd thought they looked alike in a few ways. So that was why—they really were blood relatives.

"Ah… yeah, I do. Yes, yes… I know how to put them on."

In the military, tights had been an ironclad rule.

During cold-weather training they'd hand you these ridiculously thin things, and you'd wonder what good they could possibly do and try not to wear them—but everyone else put them on, and the seniors swore by them. From experience, the insulation was surprisingly solid. Sleeping in a sleeping bag, your face would go numb and your body would freeze half to death, but your legs stayed decently warm.

A woman who'd done her military service… huh.

Yes! No reserve training for me!

"Yes, yes. Got it."

When she singled out the skirt so specifically… I pretty much had to wear one.

I touched the stockings. They were surprisingly thick. Were these just tights…? Or were the two words basically the same thing? The packaging even said tights.

"These are fleece-lined tights, though… these are stockings, right?"

Tights were unisex.

Stockings were for women. Some were sheer, some were thick, and among them there existed something called compression stockings. The ones Sua had bought me were fleece-lined thermal stockings—similar in thickness and warmth to tights, but with a compression effect that cinched in belly fat, sculpted the lines, gave a hip-lift, made the thighs and legs look slimmer, and reduced swelling.

On top of that, she added, in true nurse fashion, that they helped with blood circulation and eased symptoms like swelling, bruising, and pain while aiding recovery. And then I heard Unni's ragged breathing on the other end. Was this what they called too much information?

"Ah. Ha."

It was complicated. I understood it, and also I didn't. Wouldn't just wearing jeans be… more comfortable, warmer, and better all around?

From the sound of a turn signal clicking on and the faint engine noise, it seemed she had her own car.

"Okay, Unni."

I hung up and decided to start with the tights… no, the stockings.

Stockings, all the way to the toes…

"Ugh."

To keep the fabric from snagging, people said you were supposed to put on moisturizer first. "Moisturizer" sounded fancy, but it was just lotion. Or cream, whatever.

It was a bit like how women carefully layered five separate skincare products while men just slapped on one all-in-one. I never could understand how cosmetics companies got away with that contradiction.

I grabbed a bottle of lotion lying around, squeezed out a generous blob, and worked it from my thighs down to my toes. My skin was pure white and completely hairless—I had to wonder whether I even still counted as human. Wasn't I basically a doll?

I thought they looked pretty. And those were my legs. Whoa. A little startling.

I'd figured the method for putting on stockings wouldn't be all that different from tights.

"Nngh…."

The word "compression" clearly wasn't there for show. They were incredibly tight.

Tight enough that if I forced them any harder, I was sure they'd go rip and tear straight through, so I couldn't push and I couldn't stop.

"…Ah."

There was a photo on the torn packaging.

Normally, when you put on stockings, you rolled them down to the toes first and then wriggled them up bit by bit. Tights worked that way too—but these were different. Because of the compression, doing it like that was supposedly too hard.

In other words, instead of wriggling up from the toes…

"Eh. Ah~"

You turned them completely inside out and eased them up from the toes that way. That was what the package said.

"Urgh. Uhh…."

Tights hadn't covered the toes. Weird.

Somehow I got them up to my ankles, and it felt like something was clamping down on my feet with real force. From there I kept going carefully, no nails, gently working them up to my thighs.

My ankles and calves went firm and taut.

There were places that seemed bunched, so I slipped a hand inside and eased the fabric up a little, smoothing it out.

"Oh…."

My legs—and my whole lower half, really—looked even slimmer. If someone kicked me in the shin right now, I felt like the bone would just snap.

The feel was springier than tights, and warm. Running my hands over my own thighs was weirdly fun.

On top, a black shearling-collar jacket; on the bottom, a miniskirt.

It was a miniskirt, but it had a belt, and it almost felt like a matching set with the jacket—same pattern and everything.

"Mmm… yeah. This is good."

I tucked a white T-shirt into the skirt, tightened the belt a little, and shrugged on the jacket. When I slung ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the bag she'd bought me last time over my shoulder, I looked every bit the girl.

Yeah. A girl. Pretty.

For my first attempt at coordinating an outfit myself, it didn't feel half bad, so I snapped a photo and headed out.

"Aah, you're late~"

"Sorry. But… I did wear it."

"Let me see, let me see. Oh… nice."

The moment I got in the car, a hand slipped over and stroked the stocking along my thigh.

"Eek… Unni!"

The first thing she did after not seeing me in so long was sexual harassment. If I'd still been a guy, I'd already have been socially buried for less.

"Sorry, sorry. You just looked too pretty."

"Ugh… fine."

The word pretty dissolved my mood on the spot. Why did praise from other people feel this good?

As a man, Lee Jiwoo hadn't exactly been handsome, but he'd been decent-looking enough, and I'd heard compliments back then too—yet I'd never felt joy overflowing like this.

Anyway, what did I know. My body liked it. Or was it my mind?

"Where should we go? I was going to buy you clothes, but ugh… that Sua, her luck is ridiculous…!"

"A café, or a park, or we could just go somewhere fun… ah. But I have to be back before four. I need to make Hyung dinner."

"Hmm… then how about a café?"

"Sounds good."

It felt a little underwhelming that the place I was going with Unni, after she'd made time for me, was just a café—but this was the woman who said she felt full ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just looking at me, so whatever.

"So, how have things been progressing with that oppa of yours?"

"Ah… right…."

Aside from the interview-like way she asked, a major headache floated back to the surface.

"Haa… uugh…!!"

"Hm? So something did happen?"

Keeping it bottled up alone left me with no idea how to solve it, and saying it out loud was embarrassing and mortifying—but if it was Unni, maybe she could at least give me some advice. So I told her about ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what had happened that morning.

"Mmm… nice. That's exciting."

"Please take this seriously!"

"No, I mean it. A guy getting flustered is hot. And his clothes smelled amazing, right?"

"…Yeah."

Even if you'd collected Hyung's sweat scent in a diffuser, it still would have been fine to breathe in.

"Well, it'll be okay. He was startled, sure, but right now there's probably something else mixed into all that confusion."

"And what would that be…."

"Love?"

"Oh, come on."

So this was an unni whose head was full of nothing but fantasies.

I hacked a rough piece off the cake with my fork and stuffed it in my mouth.

Apparently this café was known for its cakes. Yeah. They were pretty good.

"Do you really not trust your unni?"

"No."

"A man and a woman living together and not a single romantic feeling between them? Doesn't that just mean they're both gay?"

"Uhh… I think Hyung still treats me like a guy…?"

He called me pretty, looked out for me, and when my bra showed he politely averted his eyes—it was considerate, and kind of cool, but…

"No way."

"Mm… okay. So you're saying there's no problem?"

"Since it's come to this, let's seduce him!"

"…What!?"

I didn't even know how Hyung felt, and she wanted me to start with seduction?

"Brush up against him with your chest a little, sleep in the same bed, act a bit more like a fox and test the waters."

"We… already slept in the same bed once, and nothing happened."

"…!?!?"

It had been sudden, and I'd been the one who insisted, but Hyung hadn't laid a hand on me. I'd trusted him, and even if he had touched me… I thought I would have been okay with it. But in the end we'd just slept deeply, and that was it. Nothing at all.

"Is he gay…?"

"He used to be married. That's why I call him my brother-in-law!"

"But he didn't even touch a girl this pretty and cute and lovable?"

Turning Unni's words over slowly in my mind left me with a strange, uneasy feeling. Come on. No way.

"Then… let's get close a little faster. Start with calling him Oppa. Can you try saying Oppa for me?"

"O… Oppa…."

"Say it more from the heart. Your voice is already the best, so if you just tweak the tone a little, it'll be perfect."

"O… Oppaa…"

I added a nasal lilt to emphasize it. Putting this much effort into something like this was giving me a mild existential crisis.

"Aww, so cute."

Still, I ought to try out this whole "Oppa" thing at least once, right? Before liking someone, you had to do your research.

Maybe… I should test it.

"Unnii… I like you."

"…Love me? Want to date?"

"I mean I like you as a friend. Why would you take it that way. And why did that sound like a question."

It seemed to have worked remarkably well.