Chapter 11: A Day in the Life of That Man (1)
-1-
"Jae-hyun, you're looking extra sharp today. Slept like a baby last night, huh?"
My PT coach inspects my form, her face lighting up with pure satisfaction.
"Oh, really? I did hit the hay a bit earlier than usual yesterday."
Maybe it's because I'm chatting so easily with someone after all this time. Yeah, I definitely slept better than usual last night—felt great.
"Eating right and resting well are key, you know. You nailed it. With your diligence and natural muscle-building body, your form's improving by leaps and bounds in no time."
She's practically salivating like a teacher who's found the perfect newbie pupil. In gym vet circles, endgame content usually boils down to looksmaxing, concept builds, bullying newbies, or nurturing them. And my PT coach? She's a hardcore newbie-nurturer through and through.
The more my reps and weights climb, the happier she gets—like it's her own achievement—and then she starts chanting that endless "one more!" My dedicated coach right there.
"How much are you planning to shred my muscles today...?"
"Unlike the other guy members, you're just so fun to train, Jae-hyun. You do everything I say without question, and you're consistent about showing up."
In this reverse world, guys have zero obsession with muscles. Back in my past life, pretty much every dude dreamed of a ripped physique at least once and hit the gym for it—gym bros were everywhere. Here? Good luck finding even one.
Sure, some come just to snap SNS pics, and the worst ones obsess over perfect shots but fake a few reps and bail. Or they're like, are you here to work out or play king bee? Meanwhile, women take fitness seriously—a lot of them. With so few men around, the competition's fierce; they've gotta spec every detail from one to ten.
Scan the gym: weight zone's packed with women, while guys mostly jog lightly on treadmills or bikes, breaking a mild sweat.
"Got it, so please go easy on me."
"Aw~ But tomorrow's your cafe day off anyway! Come on, let's crush it today!"
...Looks like my PT coach won't rest until she's torn my muscles to bits today. Should've never told her my work schedule—regretting it now.
-2-
Today's a fun weekend! But first, gotta knock out those backed-up chores.
Summer's heat is ramping up, so I'm already eyeing the AC and fan. For stuff like cleaning and airing out, better finish early morning before it gets brutal—less hassle, less sweat. So I hustle with prep right from breakfast.
Flung all the windows wide for ventilation first, then fired up the laundry before diving into cleaning. Living solo means not much laundry piles up, but workout gear and undies were stacking.
Ideally, you'd wash outer and inner separately even if lazy, but for a bachelor pad, that's luxury. Dumped it all in the machine, but tossed in a wash ball and color guard sheet for minimal conscience.
Laundry's rolling—next, cleaning squad! Dusted visible spots, wiped remnants with a soft cloth. Usually just a quick vacuum, but mop cooldown's up, so I ran the steam mop after.
Way easier than hand-mopping. Detach the pad, wash it with towels later. Come to think of it, how did Mom handle almost all this solo? And she worked full-time, not even a housewife.
Heard somewhere that God couldn't watch over everyone personally, so He made mothers. Spot on.
-3-
I handle cold better than heat, but still hate summer more than winter. Cold? Layer up, hot packs—options galore. Summer swelter? Indoors or bust, AC only.
I avoid going out as weather heats, but today? Gotta eat to live. Fridge check: a pack of cherry tomatoes wilting from age, a couple eggs on their last legs, nothing else but water and drinks. Instant rice, bag ramen, cup noodles, cans—those lingered.
Family photo in the living room suddenly felt like Mom was glaring. Braved the heat to the mart.
Weekend crowds everywhere. Grabbed a cart, wandered—yep, no solo shoppers, especially no guys. Reverse world dudes act like nobility, dodging chores; if dating or married, dump it all on her. Expected sight.
This world's men? Their personalities amaze more you look. Don't know "housework sharing"?
"Oh my, handsome young man! This is on sale today—take a peek!"
Spotlights on me, but I'm used to ignoring stares.
Browsing, mulling buys, when a tasting corner auntie hails me boldly.
"Here, try some!"
Red pork stir-fry in a tiny paper cup. Who resists jeyuk bokkeum? Reverse world guys don't count.
"600g a pack, buy now get 200g free. How 'bout one pack...?"
Mart auntie hawking pork to a guy in reverse world. But I'm a red-blooded jeyuk fan! Don't know cuts, but spicy-sweet sauce clings perfectly. That cheongyang pepper kick at the end cuts the richness—fire.
"Two packs, please."
She beams, bags two quick. Grabbed some veggies, fruits, misc ingredients. Oh, shampoo low? Mart sparks forgotten needs; cart fills fast.
Too much to carry solo—split fresh stuff needing cold, rest delivery.
Scribbling address on long receipt tail, suddenly Lee Yoon-ju pops up, poking me.
"Huh? What're you doing here?"
Their place closer to Homeplus than Emart.
She hefts a heavy market basket showily, smirks. "Mom's errand. Said sale here today."
"Thrifty lady."
"'Cause she dumps all the annoying stuff on me!"
"Hey, human up—do that much at least."
Yoon-ju? Cook or clean? Total klutz at chores—gotta handle errands yourself.
"Ugh, you ungrateful brat."
"What? Who's more filial than me?!"
"Filial's meaning changed? If you're filial, half the world's getting chastity monuments."
Glared coldly, lightly toed her shin—thwack!
"What're you hauling so much for? Solo liver."
"Essentials and stuff. Been ages since mart."
"Sure, princess."
We fall in step naturally, chatting updates. Her love life slips in—more like her bragging kicks off.
"Oh yeah, went to my girl's place last week?"
"And?"
Tried sounding bored, but Yoon-ju's engine's revved—ignores.
Vicious. Loves rubbing it in solo friend's face.
"Said I'd cook tasty stuff, so we shopped together. Man~ My girl's pretty and cooks great. Jeyuk she made? Out-of-this-world."
"Nice."
"Hell yeah~! Booze as side, we drank. Heh heh."
This punk? Don't tell me... Nah? You climbed adult stairs, Yoon-ju?!
Stopped dead, stared horrified—she grins sleazier.
"You're not still a virgin, right?"
"Virgin bitch? What?!"
Oh, not? Thought bedroom workout already from vibe! Who grins that dirty? And "virgin bitch" on street? No shame, friend?
"First kiss! First kiss!"
"Jeyuk and beer for first kiss?"
Me, decades solo across lives—even I question if that's right. But she's beaming satisfied, happy—whatever.
But Yoon-ju, your girl cool with jeyuk-beer first kiss?
"Even girl-on-girl has mood, idiot! Ate, washed up! Couch TV cuddles! Then bam—vibe hits!"
Booze buzz, steamy mood—kiss. Spilled useless TMI, bragging nonstop.
"...Yoon-ju, go die."
"Kuhuhu! Jealous? Date already~ That face, why still solo? Total mystery."
"Shut it. Worse 'cause you know."
"Yup~"
Fist shakes at her smug cackle. One punch? Reverse world—she hits me, gets "woman hits man?!" backlash; me hitting? Fine. Got cause too—bragging first kiss to solo pal. Innocent, right, judge?