Author, Please Keep Community Activity Within Agreed Terms (4)

"Noona!"

The room was packed with pretty pastel furniture. Han Yeji, sprawled out on the floor, tilted her head lazily toward the door.

"Hm? Suho's here? What is it?"

"It's not the marriage registration — we only filed the gender change registration! That's all!"

At Suho's frantic voice, Han Yeji smiled serenely.

"Marriage registration? Already—"

At that frosty remark, Suho whipped his head around and stared at the monitor glowing blue. Nothing was displayed on the screen.

"Wh—"

"I took it down, obviously. Do you really trust me that little?"

"Phew..."

Yeji stole a sidelong glance at Suho as the breath eased out of him, then said quietly, "Honestly? Why not just commit to it and see what happens."

Something about the sly undertone in her voice made Suho answer in a fluster. "...I'm sorry — what?"

"Gaon unnie. Shove it through all at once and I bet she'll just go all 'uh, umm, well.'"

"...What on earth is that supposed to mean? Haaah..."

Song Gaon — a woman's body carrying a mind that still refused to admit it was one. Her behavior had come close to driving Suho mad more times than he could count.

The same act meant something entirely different depending on whether it passed between two men or between a man and a woman — whether the one committing it was a woman or a man.

"Last time, in the parking lot, the front of your pants looked about ready to split."

That short skirt of hers — every careless movement had flashed a peek of underwear. Just an ordinary scrap of cloth, yet worn by Song Gaon it had set Suho's blood on fire. Cheeks burning, he replied, "Th-that never happened."

"Oh, come off it. Brief as it was, I lived through my own tent-pitching mornings too, you know. Be honest with yourself."

"That's enough."

"It's exactly why I told you to skip buying a second bed and just share one."

"And I feel like I'm dying every single morning because of it, so please don't."

Even now, Suho had grown used to easing his numb, aching lower half out of Gaon's embrace each morning. The stiffness itself was an old companion; lately, though, the torment ran deeper than it ever had.

Gaon's sleeping habits — clinging to his neck as if in a chokehold, legs wound tight around his — were quite wicked. And all the more so because her body, in open defiance of the mind that still insisted it was a man, was superbly equipped to seduce a man in his prime.

"At times like that, you simply say thank you. She made 'one bed with the girl of your dreams!' come true, didn't she? A tough spot for any man to endure. I understand it all."

Suho — who had now lived through Yeji as unnie, as hyung, and as noona — had long since resigned himself. She had known life on both sides of the line, and they had shared one roof since childhood; hiding anything from her was all but impossible.

"Haah... It's not that I dislike it, obviously."

She was, after all, the single greatest contributor to the creation of the ASCS treatment drug.

She had volunteered for the very first clinical trial.

Even setting that aside — if Gaon was the one who had steadied his reeling heart while ASCS left him adrift, then Yeji, who had been through ASCS that much earlier, was the textbook that had taught him how to live as a man.

Remembering that the better part of his own conduct had been learned from her, Suho shook his head.

"The filing is all done, so it should be approved within a few hours."

She had come all this way by subway, yet the work itself had taken hardly any time at all; satisfied with her efficiency, Suho nodded. 'Wasn't there something else I needed to ask...'

"Ah — and we need to send an official letter to Novel World under the management company's name."

"Hey. Doesn't that mean my overtime pay goes double?"

Money had never meant much to Han Yeji. But working for free 'just because he's family' would only deepen Suho's bad habits. She was entitled to fair compensation in her own right.

"Well, then..."

Suho tried to propose an alternative, but his mouth clamped shut mid-sentence, and he fixed Yeji with a long, weighty stare.

Reading the look as a demand to name her price, Yeji answered it with a beaming smile. "Let me watch the two of you on a date."

"...What date? She'll just barricade herself at home and write anyway."

Suho knew better than anyone how desperate she was — he had shared her bed and heard Gaon mutter in her sleep, night after night: "No marriage registration!!!"

Which was exactly why he knew that filing one now would be dangerous. She would cast everything aside and brand him her mortal enemy, no question about it.

"Is that so."

Yeji had realized it: Gaon was scheming something, and hadn't breathed a word of it to Suho. 'No need to warn him ahead of time, is there.'

"Anyway, if anything like that happens, call me right away."

"...I'll try."

"No — that's when you say 'I promise.'"

"Yes. Tch."

'And Gaon noona took the bait with just this much...'

As expected, this one was impossible to handle.

"Also — tomorrow I'm taking Gaon unnie shopping at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mall. Just so you know."

"Yes. ...I'm sorry, what?"

"Unnie says she has something to buy."

Suho thought back — hadn't they gone grocery shopping together just recently, and hadn't she declared there was nothing to buy? — and swept the thought away.

"...Well, all right. Gaon noona's streaming this evening, so she has nothing else scheduled tomorrow. I have a meeting, and..."

"Right. Suho has a meeting."

"...Noona?"

The sight of Han Yeji's radiant smile sent a chill racing down Suho's spine.

"I'm on my comp day~"

"You haven't even filed the approval yet... If you ditch a meeting all on your own, I swear..."

Long accustomed to Yeji resolving every problem before it could reach his desk, Suho went chalk-white. The meeting minutes, every approval that trailed the meeting on their heels — come tomorrow he'd be bolted to his chair working overtime, unable to move an inch. That much was certain.

"I already approved it — under your ID. And you are absolutely not going to die, so stop panicking."

"Isn't that forgery of a private document?"

"If it all goes wrong, I'll just go file the marriage registration after all? Hoho."

In the beginning, Suho had talked of registering the marriage on the spot and leaving her unable to so much as twitch — but after actually meeting Gaon, his behavior had changed. Yeji, who understood perfectly how his heart now longed to approach her with the utmost care, had nothing to fear.

She even had the proxy consent form required for submitting the paperwork, after all.

"That one really would be forgery of an official document, though?"

"Ai~ I'd get Gaon unnie's consent first, obviously."

—Gulp.

Remembering Song Gaon — how she'd fold with a mere 'hmm, I suppose?' at the slightest persuasion — Suho barely managed to swallow past a dry throat.

"Anyway, it's settled, so do your best tomorrow."

"Haah..."

— Twaha~ Stweam on~

After Suho's short sigh came an adorable little notification chime.

"Pfft... You watch streamers?"

At a notification sound she'd never heard before, Yeji glanced at him sidelong.

"No, it's Gaon noona's stream...... huh?"

Suho followed Song Gaon's channel and hers alone — purely to see how it displayed on mobile — and something struck him as off. 'We agreed she'd go live when we were together tonight. Why is she streaming already?'

"It appears... noona started the broadcast without me?"

"I wanna watch!"

Leaving the newly electrified Han Yeji behind him, Suho turned on his heel and spoke in a low voice. "Noona, look up the stream address and watch from there. I think I need to get to that house."

Suho hastily shrugged on the coat draped over his arm and headed for the large room where his father was.

A loneliness I had never felt while working alone had crept in.

All those years by myself, I'd never known it existed — somewhere along the way, I had grown far too accustomed to doing things with Suho beside me.

More than that—

"How on earth did ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I ever write this...?"

Reading what counted, by my standards, as my most recent 19+ work, I heaved a sigh before I knew it. Having written every shade of hardcore filth in my day, I suddenly felt like an incurable pervert.

There were simply too many sentences that laid bare the walls of a man in his thirties. Every word was unmistakably mine, yet with the head I had now, I couldn't follow the plot.

'Hardcore stuff is still a little... a little too early for me, I think.'

I snatched up a different book in a hurry — only to find this one was 19+ as well, and its plot was suffocating.

"This... plot... what on earth... ha... what are they even doing...?"

Anyone could see it was a setup of the 19+, for the 19+, by the 19+. And yet not one 19+ scene ever arrived.

Setting aside how incomprehensible the protagonist's behavior was, the whole thing was unbearable to read. How was the man this hopelessly unmanly—

"Ah..."

It was the work that had started life at 15+ and eventually been converted to 19+.

'Did it get bumped up because of the descriptions...?'

"This one..."

The novel with a disproportionate flood of comments cursing the protagonist.

Comments railing at him — isn't this the part where it's obvious what he's supposed to do?

My mistake back then was conflating the protagonist with myself.

Those comments were no different from elderly drama viewers cursing a brilliantly performed villain.

They were proof of exactly how immersed the readers were — but I took them another way. It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠felt as though they were cursing me, and from that moment the limiter in my head shattered, and I fell.

It was the work that marked the point where I began writing hardcore 19+ novels.

"How embarrassing..."

Coming face to face with your past self is always painful.

Naturally — the me of today can't help but be different from the me of back then.

'But this one is genuinely mortifying...'

Reading on, my heart swept up in the heroines without my meaning it to be, I realized something: every single world inside my novels was merciless to women.

"...Oof..."

A few more chapters in, I slammed the book shut in a panic.

My lower belly ached.

Something down there was humming, and I closed the book to smother the uncomfortable feeling before it could spread.

The instant it shut, the loneliness — the kind I hadn't felt in a while — came flooding back.

"When is Suho coming home..."

'No. No, that's not it...'

I had no idea ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠why I'd reached for him, but I chose to believe it was because I'd been reading prose with the emotional descriptions dialed up far too high.

"...Should I get dinner started?"

With the broadcast scheduled for the evening, we'd have to eat a little earlier than usual.

'Except I don't even know when he's coming...'

The image of a pet dog left home alone, wilted and moping, kept circling through my head.

"No, wait... I can just start the broadcast a little early."

As expected, I was a genius.

When you're lonely, all you have to do is talk to other people.

I knew exactly how to start a broadcast, because I'd watched Suho do it. 'Not that operating a computer was ever the difficult part for me.'

I had earned my living as a developer, after all — naturally.

For the intro, I ran the same one used on the last broadcast. When the song attached to it wound down, I switched on the mic and the camera and offered my greeting.

"H-hello, everyone?"

'Wow... a big turnout again today...'

The chat was scrolling too fast to even read. Dizzy from trying to keep up, I realized I hadn't said a single word — and the moment I read my readers'... no, my viewers'... chat about my silence, I scrambled to respond.

"Uh... today's stream is just chatting! The chat was going way too fast, so I was... busy reading it..."

"No — 'maestro of the hardcore genre'? Seriously..."

Apparently I should have just stayed lonely on my own.

"Gah—"

Anyone could see it was Suho.

'Was I supposed to go live only when he was home...?'

"Th-thank you for the 5,000-won donation, Suho-nim..."

'I'm dead...'