I Don't Want to Go Out

Every so often, news would break that a Dragon had been discovered inside a high-grade Gate, and every time it did, I found myself wondering why dragons insisted on holing up in their nests.

Whenever one showed up, disaster alerts would pour in by the dozens each day, and ranking officials from every country's awakened authorities would step forward to announce support for the nation in question.

I understood, vaguely, that dragons were immensely powerful beings. But why go out of their way to bury themselves in a nest and pile up whatever trinkets caught their fancy? Wouldn't roaming the outside world make it easier to amass the treasure they wanted? They were strong enough that few things could threaten their lives, after all.

But after becoming half ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a dragon myself, I started to understand—just a little—why they sealed themselves away.

"Why are there so many kinds of these…"

Three days had passed since that birthday, when so much had happened and something inside me had been scraped a little thinner. For three full days I hadn't taken a single step outside the house, and even inside I'd spent almost all of it curled up on the bed—and it was far more comfortable than I'd expected.

Maybe dragons nest for the same reason. So for a Half-Dragon like me, holing up wasn't strange at all.

Besides, with a smartphone in hand I had plenty to do. My life was a lot richer than the dragons who supposedly did nothing but sleep.

"I'll just grab whatever for the tops."

Until my identity was sorted out, it was better to keep outings to a minimum, and there was nothing urgent pulling me outside anyway. Anything I needed could be ordered and delivered to the door without me leaving. Even clothes-wise, I could get by throwing on what I used to wear.

Underwear was another story, though. I had nothing to substitute with, and the tail made ordinary options a pain, so I'd have to get something properly fitted eventually. The idea of my former male self putting on women's underwear wasn't something I could just casually accept, so I hadn't even searched for it online out of sheer revulsion.

Thanks to that I was living a little… breezy, but since I never left the house I figured it was fine—until this morning, when Mom delivered her ultimatum.

You keep walking around like that, and I'm throwing out every last piece of clothing you own.

She wasn't demanding skirts or dresses or anything especially feminine. Just clothes that actually fit this body. Otherwise, she threatened, she'd dress me in the outfit she'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠prepared for my birthday and drag me around a mega mall from opening to closing—an absolutely terrifying prospect.

So to avoid going out, I'd been browsing women's online shops all morning.

"Ugh, this is just underwear with extra steps…. Why are they even selling this as pants?"

Everything in the search results was way too high a hurdle. Flowing dresses and lace-trimmed skirts had been out before I even typed a word. All I'd wanted was a pair of shorts I could wear comfortably at home, so I'd searched for shorts for tailed beastmen—and then this happened.

The moment that came up, I wanted to throw the whole thing out the window. It clung to the lower body like lingerie, left every curve of the rear fully on display—and they called that pants?

Worse, under the pretense of being made for tailed beastmen, the fabric around the tail opening was completely cut away. The thing was grotesque. Clearly this shop and I were not meant to be, so I fled the site in a hurry.

In the end I ordered a few plain tees, some shorts, and cotton pants in assorted sizes through the usual rapid-delivery app, then burrowed back under the covers and curled up tight.

"I got the awakening I wanted…. So why do I feel so unsettled?"

That first day, there had at least been a faint flicker of excitement. Now all that remained was the alien feeling of this changed body, and even dragging myself out of bed felt like too much work.

I'd wished for it every single day—that I'd awaken somehow, no matter how weak the ability. And yet every time I faced this transformed body, the thought of wanting to go back kept surfacing.

It was only a change of gender. I should have been able to roll with it. So why couldn't I?

Maybe it was the hollow emptiness I felt because of the tail that had threaded its way between my curled-up legs. Something bigger and heavier had taken its place in my arms, sure—but still.

"…I should just go to the bathroom."

The moment I became aware of it, the urge hit, and I scrambled out of bed and headed for the toilet.

Right. I already knew there was no easy way back. No point drowning in complicated thoughts and making myself miserable. Either I'd get used to it someday, or a way to become a man again would turn up.

"But… do I have to do my business like this every single time from now on?"

The day I'd failed to sit on the toilet and made a mess of myself, I'd scrubbed clean and then experimented with every possible way to sit. In the end, facing the tank and sitting the opposite way turned out to be the most comfortable for the tail.

Comfortable, yes—but the peculiar shame that hit every time I sat down was unavoidable. The tail kept thumping the floor, too.

I let out a small sigh under that strange embarrassment, awkwardly finished up with toilet paper, and walked out.

"…I should settle this soon. That, too."

The moment I stepped out, the documents waiting on the dining table caught my eye—the ones for my new identity. Across the top, the words were stamped clear as day:

Ah…. Once I filled in a name here, I wouldn't be Park Min, the guy who'd graduated from the high school near home. I'd become someone who'd graduated from a girls' school I'd never even set foot in.

I wanted to throw the whole thing away. The papers crumpled a little in my grip and went crooked. But I didn't have the courage to openly declare myself a Half-Dragon and soak up all that unwanted attention, either.

This wouldn't work, that wouldn't work…. Ugh. I wasn't some spoiled kid throwing a tantrum. What a pathetic sight.

I let out a self-mocking sigh and stood up, ready to flee from the documents I couldn't stand to look at—when my phone buzzed.

Jihoo's number lit up the screen. I stared blankly at it for a moment, then reluctantly reached for the answer button.

Free time? Aside from the occasional store shift or part-time gig I scraped together, I was a full-time unemployed youth with nothing but free time. Of course I was free.

No. I wasn't even a youth anymore, was I.

"Yeah, I am."

"…Uh. About that."

Normally I would've agreed without a second thought. For some reason, I just didn't feel like it.

"Let's meet next time. I'm not really in the mood to go out."

He latched onto my half-hearted dodge and dug in. Even when I told him nothing was wrong, that I was just tired, the questions kept boring deeper, and it started to piss me off.

Sometimes you just don't feel like it. What's the big deal?

"Stop it! I just don't want to go out!"

"Why do you keep prying so hard?! I said nothing's wrong!"

It wasn't like Jihoo had done anything wrong, but the shout tore out of me before I could stop it.

"Just…. Just leave me alone. Everything's a pain in the ass…."

"Don't call me 'hey'! I'm still Park Min. Use my name!"

At my cry, Jihoo fell silent for a moment. But once the feelings started spilling out, they came in a flood, like a dam bursting.

"What even is this…. Why am I the only one who has to change like this…. Hic. I'd rather have a giraffe head…."

"I know I'm worrying over nothing, and I get it all up in my head…. But I still hate it…."

My tear-choked voice scattered weakly into the air. Had the thing scraped away since my birthday been my ability to hold back tears? Why was I doing this to Jihoo, who'd only called to grab a meal like always?

I didn't know anymore.

"A-ah, no. Sorry. You didn't deserve that. I was just a little messed up and I slipped. Sorry. Uh, I'm sorry."

No matter what I looked like now, this was the awakening I'd wanted—the one everyone envied. So why did my mood keep plunging toward the floor? And now I'd just snapped at someone who hadn't done a thing wrong.

I rushed out the apology and was about to jab the end-call button when—

Those few words from Jihoo froze my finger in place.

"What?"

"I'm already different from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠before, though…?"

Trying to live under the name Park Min in this body was frightening in its own way. Overnight, I had already changed far too much. And yet here he was, saying it was fine.

It was a clumsy kind of comfort—but it was also the kind of comfort twenty years together had made familiar. Something in me went slack, and I sank down right there in front of the dining table.

"…Really?"

"No…. I'm actually okay now. But help me think something through instead."

I felt like I could decide it now. No—if not now, I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠might never decide at all.

"I still haven't picked a name for the new identity. Help me choose one."

"Yeah. A name change doesn't make that big a difference anyway. Still a Park-something, right?"

I let out a small laugh and started reading off the names Mom and I had written down one by one.

"Mina."

"Then what about Sua?"

I don't know how much time passed. We went through every name we'd written down and still couldn't settle, then kept brainstorming together for a long while after that.

"Alright. I'll talk it over with Mom and go with that one."

By the time we finally ended the call, the moon was just starting to show. The empty house felt terribly quiet once the line went dead—but I no longer wanted to burrow back under the covers the way I had before. A smile rose on its own at the sudden, simple thought that I really had done well, making at least one friend like him.

"…But what about the underwear."

Thanks to a plan I hadn't even known was coming, the massive problem I'd been so carefully ignoring had crashed right down in front of me. With no other choice, I squatted in front of the dining table again and pulled up a shopping site on my phone.

"…What even is 'seamless.' And if it's an A, just say A—what's with the numbers?"

Faced with a string of words I understood not at all, my fingers bounced frantically between the search bar and the shop pages. Looking up women's underwear felt weirdly shameful, so I kept glancing around like someone might catch me—even though the house was empty.

Every time some of the more aggressive pieces flashed past on the site, my big toes, pressed together, wriggled for no good reason.

In the end I couldn't decide a single thing on my own and closed the shop. Then I called Mom.

I gave in and asked her for help, plain and simple.

"Okay. And I picked a name. Can you come with me to submit the paperwork tomorrow…?"

Hearing Mom's voice, same as always, the tension drained out of me all at once, and the world in front of me seemed to blur again.

"Okay. Got it. Mom."

I hung up and wrote three wobbly characters into the empty name field on the form.

Until the moment I wrote it, the new name had felt endless and frightening to choose. And yet once it was actually down on the paper, it didn't feel like anything at all. The mood was strangely odd.

Even if the name Park Miri got layered over everything else, I was still Mom's son, still Park Min, still someone who mattered to people. That alone felt like enough.