I Wish You'd Do That. Only Then This Relationship Won't Break

"Haa… slurp… auph… aughhh…."

"Jihye, are you okay…?"

I yanked the refrigerator open in a panic. I put everything I had into it, but the door still swung out with agonizing, visible slowness.

"……Uwahaha!!"

I shoved something into my mouth and swished it around like mouthwash until the burn finally peeled away. Only then did I start to feel human again. I pulled out a peach-flavored drink, and as the sweetness rolled down my throat and settled into my stomach, the last of the heat faded with it.

"Hwah… I might live."

"It's only moderately spicy, though. It tastes fine… Ah. Maybe your tongue got reset and never built up any tolerance."

"What?"

"What people love spicy food as much as Koreans? And there's no way that brand-new body of yours would leave only the tongue behind. Foreigners call even tempura udon too hot."

Tempura udon… Ah. I was going to lose my mind. Overnight, I'd become a foreigner.

"The kimchi jjigae was fine, though…."

"Didn't you load it with sugar and extra ingredients or something?"

"Mmm… jjigae is just like that."

Soup you eat alone, with plenty of broth; jjigae you share, with less broth. And unlike soup, jjigae's broth runs a little thicker.

"I don't know. Just think of your body as reset back to a kid's. Kids can't handle kimchi either—they say it's too spicy."

"…Well. That's about the only explanation I can think of too."

Truthfully, the signs—or signals—had been everywhere. Suddenly struggling with hot food. Kimchi tasting a little fiercer. The mere scent of chili making my nose scrunch instead of my mouth water.

Signals I'd dismissed as my imagination, only for Unni to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠drag ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠into the light again.

"You'll get used to it."

"I keep forgetting, every single time. Becoming a woman wasn't the only thing that changed. A lot of things did."

"Mm-hmm. Same person, sure—but change one thing like gender and almost everything else flips with it, right?"

—Crack-crack-snap!

"Well then… shall we crack open some drinks?"

"Sounds good."

Unni twisted the bottle open with a flourish. I lifted two soju glasses hooked over the rims of our teacups.

"Let's see how well our Jihye holds her liquor."

"Fine by me. I could hold it pretty well when I was a guy."

I'd been reasonably confident. Alcohol tolerance ran heavy in the blood, after all. If your father drank well, you tended to match him—or outdo him.

Father went out for company dinners sometimes. He'd come home reeking of booze, but his speech stayed as spare and quiet as ever, and his mouth never twisted when he talked. His steps never wavered. You could almost believe he'd never touched a drop and had only spilled it on his clothes—he was that steady, same as always.

I just never expected that same gift to land on me.

"Cheers~!"

"Cheers."

The first drink in a long time was bitterly sharp. Maybe I wasn't a grown-up after all.

"Khh… augh. Augh. Bitter."

Apparently Unni wasn't much of a grown-up either.

But one glass became two, then three. At the end of it a bottle sat empty; we cracked another, filled the glasses with clear liquid again, and emptied them once more.

We had so much to say that we took turns pouring out our complaints, one story after another.

Unni started with work. She hated the nightmare patients, she said—but they were still people who needed treatment. Watching them improve, staying beside them and helping them through it, filled her with a pride nothing else could touch.

For all her teasing, she was deadly serious about her job. The way she found fulfillment in helping people made her feel almost angelic.

I knew exactly why I liked her.

Every little thing she did was too pretty.

"Uugh… but stiiill… I love him, you knowoo…."

"You ran away from him, and he hasn't even called."

"Ugh… Oppa's juuust… a coward, that's whhyyy…."

"There's being a coward, and then there's being too scared to even apologize…."

Her words stung, but I was the one left wanting.

The ringtone sounded, and within a few seconds the call connected.

"Yeeeah. Unniiii…"

He was hardly in any position to say that.

"I diiid… I drank a looot…."

"Don't you… have anything to say…?"

Whatever I'd wanted to hear died on the spot. Maybe I felt hollow. Maybe he was right and wrong at the same time. To Oppa, at least, I was still a man—but I'd already thrown that away.

"I aam…! A wo! man! now…!!"

I'd thrown it away for good.

"Why? What are you sorry for?"

I wanted to hear it once. Whether he was only apologizing because the situation called for it, or whether he actually understood how I felt.

"I'll give you time. I'm coming home tomorrow afternoon. Until then. Bye."

I wanted to hear it face-to-face. I was thoroughly drunk, and nothing said over the phone was going to untangle the knot in my chest.

"…Drink up."

"Ah. Yeah."

I knocked back the soju. My already spinning head sparked once more, then sank back into the dizziness.

"Jihye, enough. You've had a lot."

"I wanna drink a little more…."

"No. Get up. Now."

Somehow Unni stood up just fine. The whole world was spinning around me.

"Uuugh! Nooo, don't wanna…!"

"Will you listen to Unni? And thrashing around like that is only going to make your stomach worse."

"Uurk… my stomach feels awfuuul…."

"Huh?"

Unni grabbed hold of me and hauled me along as I was.

"Euuueh… Unnii…?"

"If you throw up, I'm hitting you."

"Hnnngh… meanie…."

We must have reached the bathroom; she sat me down and rubbed my back.

"Eh, eh, eh, eh. Nothing's coming out."

"…You want me to hit you?"

"A second ago I definitely went uurk…!"

Out of nowhere I produced a monjayaki special right there in the bathroom. My spinning head cleared a little.

"Drink some water. We'll clean this up tomorrow—for now, sleep."

"Okay…."

I rinsed my mouth the way you rinse after brushing, then let Unni guide me into the bedroom.

"Uwaaah… the bed is so niiice…."

"Mind if I sleep with you?"

"…Shouldn't I be the one asking that?"

"Then I guess we're sleeping together."

Unni lay down right beside me. She rolled over, and our eyes met.

"…Drinking's hard work too."

"Tell me about it…."

"But it was nice. Being with you was really, really nice, Jihye."

"Hehe. Thank you."

I surrendered to the dizziness and let my eyes ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fall shut.

"…Dizzy."

One of the reasons I didn't drink.

I hated hangovers. Spending nearly half a day unable to think straight—was liquor really worth it?

"Eh."

A bright citrus scent teased at me. Softness pressed against my chest, and our faces were close enough to share breath. Unni and I were nose to nose.

Whatever I'd done last night, I was holding her. She had her arm around my waist in return, still asleep.

"Mmm…."

What had I done yesterday? I remembered drinking a lot—that much was clear.

Which explained why I couldn't remember the rest, but still…

"Unni… wake up."

"Mmh… nngh…."

She showed no interest in getting up.

"Uugh…."

I eased her arm off and slipped free.

Out in the living area, last night's food still sat on the table—we must have fallen asleep without cleaning up.

I stretched hard, then started clearing the table.

The mala tang was almost gone; Unni must have enjoyed it. I bagged the trash. The sodas had gone flat and there wasn't much left, so I emptied them, rinsed them, and set them aside.

While I was at it, I figured I should do something about the hangover, so I decided to cook with whatever ingredients we still had.

Bean sprouts and eggs were hangover allies. For a simple morning meal, nothing beat bean sprout and egg soup.

I set water on the stove, laid out the ingredients, and finished the rest of the chores. With a spare moment, I ducked into the bathroom and wiped the sleep from my eyes.

"Hwah…."

The hangover was murderous. It was almost impressive that I was still moving.

"Uuuugh… my heaaad…."

"Unni, you're up?"

"Mmhmm…."

Unni rubbed her eyes and collapsed straight onto the sofa.

"Give me a minute. I'll make you something to eat."

"Thaank youuu…."

The bean sprouts in the pot came to a boil and began to soften. Once they started cooking through, I beat an egg in a small bowl with green onion and garlic, then poured the mixture into the pot.

One spoonful of soy sauce, salt to taste, and it was done.

"Breakfast's ready."

I ladled the soup into bowls and scooped rice. All that was left was to set out the kimchi.

The hangover made me want something lighter, but since we were already sitting down to eat, I didn't bother cutting anything else.

"…Why on earth were you ever a man, Jihye. You're a perfect wife."

"Mmm… I wouldn't know. Aside from liking to cook, not really?"

I liked cooking. That didn't mean I wanted to be a chef. It was self-satisfaction, pure and simple.

Even when work was hard, I'd started because making food was fun and eating it made me happy. These days it made me even happier when someone I cared about enjoyed what I cooked—so I worked at it harder—but that was how it had begun.

"Your recycling's flawless, the food's delicious, you're kindhearted, and on top of that your chest is huge."

"That last one doesn't count for when I was a guy."

"Anyway, where do you find a wife this perfect…! Damn it, I'm so jealous…."

Even with her saying that right beside me, my mood only sank. The person who actually mattered still wouldn't look my way.

"Tsk… so what happened last night? I woke up this morning holding you."

"Ah… it was nothing."

"…?? Tell me!"

Unni shook her head in a sudden fluster, waving her hands.

"Really… it was truly nothing. You just… you just asked me to hold you, so I did."

"Hss… that doesn't sound right."

No memory meant no leverage.

"Ugh… just eat!"

"…Fine."

Some things were better left alone. When someone told you not to dig, there was usually a solid reason for the refusal.

"……Ah. Aaaah?!!"

It came back. A scrap of last night's memory, short and sharp.