Something That Only Works in Novels

Worried I might have said something careless on stream, I dug through the League of Champions community boards.

Fortunately, there was nothing about me having been a man.

I hadn't even thought about what I should tell Gabi when I'd asked the woman next door — that part had completely slipped my mind.

Everyone looking at me with pity... well.

It wasn't exactly welcome, but the truth was that pity was also why people had started treating me kindly.

I knew full well that plenty of them had once torn into me with glee. I also knew that most of them now carried a sense of guilt over it.

But if that image calcified — if everyone only ever saw me as someone to feel sorry for — that wasn't a good thing either.

I'd rather they see me as Noel the top laner who's good at the game, not Yoon Noeul the disabled girl.

Well. At least the thing I'd been worried about hadn't happened, so that was fine.

No matter how much the viewers teased Celesty about being a guy, that was something they did by mutual agreement, knowing the truth. If they ever found out I had actually been a man, I knew full well they'd be disgusted.

While I was confirming all that, the woman next door offered me some advice.

"Noeul. When your friend gets here, maybe you should turn off the game and the stream for a bit?"

"Yes, I will. Um, everyone. A friend of mine is coming ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠over, so I'm going to step away for a little while. I'll be back soon."

Streaming was something I only did when I was alone. The woman next door already knew I played games and streamed, so having her around was fine — but Gabi, whom I hadn't seen in so long, wouldn't take kindly to hearing about any of that. Personal conversations would come up too, and as I'd already thought, none of those were stories that would do me any good if they got aired on stream.

So I quietly closed the game. Whether streamers got mercilessly roasted while ordinary people got a free pass, the viewers readily gave their blessing.

"Uh... I did just eat chicken, actually. Thank you. I'll use it as a bribe to get my friend to go easy on me. See you later."

Ending a stream right after receiving donations left a twinge of guilt in its own way — but whatever I was going to do, it could wait until after the showdown with Gabi.

I calmly shut down the computer and waited for her.

"Unni should give you two some space too. Have a good talk with your friend. Sometimes it's better to keep certain things hidden — but it's also good to have at least one person you can tell everything to."

With that, the woman next door pushed herself up from the bed. The viewers didn't know my situation, so turning off the stream for them was one thing — but she already knew I had originally been a man.

So I caught her by the arm. I felt like I might be able to stay calm if at least she was here.

"...Can't you stay with me?"

"Hmm, Unni doesn't know Gabi. And Gabi doesn't know Unni. You two need to talk alone — having Unni sitting here would only get in the way."

"But still..."

She lightly slipped past the hand I'd reached out, then brought her index finger to my lips — close enough to almost touch, but not quite.

"A little spoiling is fine, but Noeul is going to become a wonderful adult. Unni believes in you. I'll be cheering you on."

And with that cold parting shot, she strode right out of my room.

Right. The reason we'd grown close in the first place was that we'd always kept a careful distance — never crossing into each other's territory. Pushing her now would just be a tantrum, dragging her across that line by force.

This was my problem. I had to solve it myself.

So I carefully thought through the means I had of proving who I was to Gabi.

First: my national ID cards. I had both the old one and the current one. Only the first digit of the back half of the resident registration number was different; every other serial number was identical.

I didn't have a paternity confirmation or a genetic test report on hand, but if I went to the hospital later, they might reissue one. I had the test done before — could you give me another copy? That wasn't something I could use today, though. Convincing Gabi today with that would be hard, so I set it aside.

Aside from those two, no physical method of proof came to mind. What remained, then, was talking about the memories we'd shared together.

...It was exactly the kind of proof that would only work in a novel. It might be a way to touch Gabi's sentimental side — but it could just as easily backfire.

I was sitting alone with just my ID cards laid out, lost in thought, when someone rang the doorbell.

Steeling my resolve, I hopped over to the intercom and checked outside. Of course, Gabi was standing there.

Her long black hair, hanging straight down, was the same as always. But unlike the plain look she'd always had before, she was dressed in something fresh and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠put-together. Well — after middle school, the only versions of each other we'd ever seen had been in school uniforms. She must have started dressing up after going to college.

"Yeah. There is. I'll be right out."

Gabi must have assumed my father or mother was home. Of course — after I'd become a girl, all contact had been completely cut off. She had no way of knowing what had happened to my family. I'd have to explain that too.

Well. As long as I could convince her that I was Noel, that part wouldn't be difficult at all. A boy turning into a little girl overnight was hard to believe — but a wife stabbing her husband to death and going to prison? Uncommon, sure, but the kind of thing that could absolutely happen.

So I hopped over to the front door and opened it. The moment Gabi's eyes met mine, her expression shifted twice in a single instant.

First she flinched, startled. Then her mouth set hard, as if she'd decided I was some impostor pretending to be her childhood friend Noel. And even that resolve crumbled almost immediately, her lips trembling.

"...Your leg."

"Ah, I'll explain that later. First — here. Look at these. See how all the numbers on the back of the resident registration number are the same? After I got sick, the system processed it this way. There's also a paternity confirmation I did with my parents, and I'll get that verified at the hospital later if I have to, so..."

I didn't want to receive pity before I'd even proven I was myself. So I held out the two ID cards I'd brought with me first. Gabi glanced at them, then sighed and handed them back.

"Fine. Let's say that's true. Your leg's like that, so let's sit down and talk."

"Ah, yeah. Sit wherever's comfortable."

Gabi strode across the living room like she owned the place and dropped onto the sofa. Her hair hung in the air for a moment before cascading down in a soft rush. I hopped after her. A familiar lingering scent clung to the space behind her.

...Maybe it only felt unfamiliar because it'd been so long. The woman next door never left a scent like this.

Gabi sat on the sofa, covered her face, and let out a long breath. Then, hesitantly, she asked me:

"Do you know my dad's name?"

"Ju Ji-ja, the character for 'become'? I remember you saying it was the same as the abbreviation of some famous novel."

"We buried a time capsule in elementary school. What did we put in it?"

"...We buried something like that? I don't remember."

"Correct — we never did anything like that. ...The last time we went to the pool, you were floating around on a tube and then threw your arms up and started flailing around. Remember that?"

"No, that was—! Your dad called me over because he wanted to take a picture! And I've gotten good at swimming since then, okay?!"

"Yeah, right. You've never even shown me."

"That's because you started refusing to go to the pool because you were embarrassed to wear a swimsuit..."

At first I'd thought it was just an interrogation. But as the back-and-forth continued, it started to feel exactly like being back in middle school — bickering over the smallest things, then making up the second we shared a plate of tteokbokki. Or going over to each other's houses, eating fruit that Gabi's mom or my mother had peeled for us while we studied.

That must have been why I'd gotten so uncharacteristically worked up. Not a reaction I should have been having when I was the one who needed to explain myself — and yet.

Gabi, who had been watching me carefully, lowered her head and asked:

"Okay. I can tell you talk exactly like Noel. But why won't you look me in the eye?"

Apparently she'd been trying to meet my gaze. Explaining that would mean bringing up something I'd been planning to put off — maybe forever. But Gabi kept pressing uncomfortably into my field of vision, so I had no choice but to open my mouth.

"Th-that's... after my body became like this, and with Dad hitting me... I heard so many times that looking people in the eye made them feel bad."

"Your father...? Your dad hit you? What about your mom?"

"She killed him and went to prison."

Only then did Gabi pull back. That at least let me breathe a little easier. Then she reached toward the bangs that had slipped slightly over my face and brushed my hair back. I flinched, and her arm went rigid.

I didn't know what she'd been trying to confirm. But in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a trembling voice, Gabi said the words I'd wanted to hear more than anything.

"You... you're really Noel?"

"Yeah. I'm Yoon Noeul."

Apparently cross-checking each other's memories was far more convincing than any national ID card or paternity confirmation. Well — whatever the method, the important thing was that it had worked out.

Unni. I did it on my own, just like you said.

I drew a shallow breath, thinking a quiet thank-you toward the woman next door — and in that moment, Gabi threw her arms around me.

"If it was that hard, you should have at least called me! Why were you living all alone ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like this, shutting everything out?!"

Her voice, for some reason, was thick with tears.