Weakness Exposed
A problem had come up. A fairly serious one.
Honestly, there had been some physical changes since I'd become a woman.
The shift in appearance was a given, of course — my overall frame had shrunk, and my muscle mass had dropped.
Well, those things hadn't really registered much, since I'd just been holing up at home.
What I'd felt most keenly was that my appetite had shrunk.
Even a little extra food would leave me throwing up from indigestion, and I'd get beaten for that, too. You throw up the food your mother worked so hard to make? he'd say.
...I was dwelling on something irritating again. He was dead anyway.
At any rate, to put the scale of it in perspective: a small cup of instant ramen was about right for getting through a day. Of course, hunger would creep back in after a few hours even then. But a moderate empty stomach was actually more comfortable. Having something sitting heavy in my gut felt unpleasant.
So I'd calculated that one pizza would last me four days. Eight slices — two a day.
Even that had been an overestimate.
After finishing one slice and about half of the next, the greasiness made me feel like throwing up, and I couldn't manage any more. The cold, crisp cola didn't help much either. It only contributed to the queasiness.
The untouched portions I could simply cover with the lid. It had been ages since I'd used the fridge, but putting them in there would stretch the shelf life a little. Tomorrow, the day after, the day after that — I could just microwave the leftovers when I got around to them.
The problem was the slice I'd already touched. More precisely, the one I'd taken about two bites from.
If I'd cut it cleanly with a knife, maybe it would have been fine — but food with saliva on it spoils fast. No matter how carefully I'd torn it off, saliva from my lips or teeth was bound to get on it. Leaving it like this meant I had no idea when it would go bad.
Better to throw it out than get sick from eating it. But throwing it out created its own problem.
Living on nothing but ramen every day meant I barely produced any food waste, which had been convenient. Toss this, and food waste would appear overnight. On top of that, I didn't eat much, so a food-waste bag would fill at a glacial pace. Just thinking about eventually having to take it out already gave me a headache. I already had to steel myself every time I left the apartment — and this would mean doing it more often.
"Haa."
This was a much bigger headache for me than some weirdo sniping at me on an internet community earlier.
Should I just eat it later, once my stomach settled a bit? Sleeping with a bloated gut would be pretty uncomfortable, but there was no helping it.
Eventually, after I'd sorted out the pizza and set it on the dust-covered table, the doorbell rang from outside, right on cue.
Good thing I'd already come out to the living room. Saved me from having to crawl back and forth twice.
"Yes, this is Noel's place. What unit number? No, I can't show you or tell you that. I can't expose her address. So please bear with me filming the floor for a bit."
It was Celesty.
I didn't even need to open the door — her streaming voice came through clearly enough. It was about time she arrived.
When I opened the door, a woman who looked freshly put-together stood there. A light, airy beige dress, her phone mounted on a long selfie stick. A straw hat that seemed a bit much, yet somehow suited her perfectly. Long cascading hair, a face full of smiles that naturally drew people in.
That was why she did internet broadcasts in front of people, I supposed.
Ah — thinking about how she'd worn a mask in the studio, maybe she didn't show her face when streaming. If she broadcast while hiding both her face and her gender... it would be a rather cliché story. Even I got people asking if someone had force-fed me wasabi or whatever. With a face that pretty, how much worse would the comments be?
So I could roughly play along with Celesty's setting of being a man.
Anyway, looking at that bright face, you could tell she'd grown up well-loved. Like me, before I'd become a woman. And completely unlike me now.
...Was it because I'd been lost in those thoughts too long? Or because just staring up at her felt awkward? Celesty greeted me first.
"Ah, hello, Noel. D-don't tell me you crawled all the way here on your knees?"
"No, I crawled. Walking on my knees hurts too much, and hopping around would cause noise complaints for the downstairs neighbors."
"Ah.... You don't even have the lights on. Hah."
Crawling around was honestly pretty comfortable for me. Having my head close to the ground meant less risk of serious injury if I fell, so it was emotionally stabilizing. Maybe that was instinct.
But to Celesty, it apparently just made me look pitiful. Well, to someone soft-hearted enough that they couldn't handle the abuse female streamers get, a disabled person would look pitiful no matter what they did.
"Th-this place is a real mess...."
But where Celesty's eyes went wasn't me. Apparently the living room and kitchen were fully visible from outside — even with the curtains drawn and the lights off. Maybe it was because people had come in a few days ago when I'd collapsed in the bathroom. You could clearly see footprints stamped into the dust piles. That would have made it look even dirtier.
Nobody wants to show off a wreck of a home. Especially since Celesty was streaming right now. It would have been embarrassing enough if only she had seen it — thinking about other people watching too made it a lot more mortifying.
"I'd prefer if you didn't film inside the house."
"Ah, s-sorry. But cleaning this place seems more urgent than a wheelchair right now.... Living somewhere like this, you'll catch diseases you never even had!"
"I'll handle it myself. I'd rather you not worry about it."
It might have been a cold thing to say to someone who'd come to help. But I was so embarrassed that the blunt refusal came out before I could stop it.
Then, for whatever reason, Celesty suddenly looked around and whispered to me.
"...D-did your parents abuse you or something? Are they listening to us from inside?"
It was a question I could have brushed off casually. There's no one else here. I live alone. But the continuous questions got on my nerves, and a sharp answer slipped out before I could stop it.
"There's no one here to overhear, so don't worry. My mother killed my father and went to prison, so it's just me."
Only then did I clamp my mouth shut, realizing what I'd done.
Other people were listening right now. Celesty alone was a streamer who broadcast League of Champions. If she was a streamer who didn't reveal her face or gender, it was basically just game streaming. And the most common insults in League of Champions were parent-related. You got no mom? I raped your dad. Naturally, a game streamer's viewers would play the same game.
I'd just opened a weakness to my potential enemies.
Celesty seemed so shocked by my answer that she just worked her lips silently for a long while. When she finally spoke, it was to change the subject entirely.
"Uh.... Thank you for the donation, KimLeaf. Ah, stop talking and feed Noel something delicious? Of course, absolutely. Ah, private.... Thank you for the donation, Nieun. Use this toward fixing Noel's phone? I, I'm not sure how much the repair will cost.... Hah, wait, everyone, if you suddenly donate like this! Okay, I'll buy Noel a wheelchair today and get her phone repaired, so please don't go overboard! Ah, a cleaning mission? Ugh, I'd need Noel's permission for that.... Okay, after the wheelchair shopping stream ends, I'll help clean!"
Was streaming always like that? The hassle of having to stop whatever you were doing and react to viewers. But looking at Celesty's reaction, she seemed to rather enjoy that kind of interaction. Maybe it was her calling. I didn't think I could ever do something like that.
After a round of consecutive thank-yous to her viewers, and talking about cleaning and such without my permission, Celesty soon spoke to me with a determined expression.
"Noel, there's a condition for buying you the wheelchair. I won't film inside the house, so you have to let me clean. Ah, but I have to keep the stream on. Since I'm a guy, the viewers are worried about what I might do to you."
"...I'd be grateful for that, but aren't you making things more complicated than they need to be? I can clean on my own."
Apparently Celesty's viewers were worried about that. Because she said she was a man, they thought she might do something to me — a woman.
It was funny. They'd clearly seen that Celesty was a woman, and they still believed she was a man? From her frame to her voice, and even her chest. She was only a bit taller than me — her appearance was absolutely impossible to believe as male. For some reason, Celesty insisted on claiming she was a man.
That aside, even just the wheelchair was an excessive kindness. Suddenly offering to clean the house too felt burdensome, so I grasped at a lame excuse.
"You haven't even— no, that's not it. The viewers said they'd give me a hundred thousand won if I clean. Help me make some money!"
"Ah, okay."
But Celesty's desire was pure. If it was just greed for money like that, it was actually less burdensome. And more trustworthy, too. If she'd been doing it just because she felt sorry for me, I might have felt differently. But with money on the line, I could accept it with peace of mind.
And with that, Celesty's insistence came to a close. To get back to what she'd originally come for, she delivered a tedious bit of hosting banter into her phone.
"Alright, then shall we go buy a wheelchair first? Noel, are you okay to head out now? Ah, since walking is hard for you, I'll carry you on my back."
"I'll be heavy — are you sure you're okay? Celesty, you're a wom—"
"Ahaha, everyone. Did you hear that? I really do a great job dressing as a woman, right? Anyway, someone Noel's size isn't heavy at all. I can carry her around all day."
I'd almost misspoken. Feeling bad about that, I quietly let Celesty take me onto her offered back. She stood up lightly with me on her back, then spoke lightly again.
"Not heavy at all. Super light."
"Might be because I'm missing the weight of one foot."
"Ah."
I'd meant it as a light joke of my own, but Celesty froze up without managing any real reaction.
Hmm. People find jokes like that uncomfortable. I should hold back on those.