The World That Changed Overnight

"Siwoo, did you seriously hit your head in the bathroom or something? Should Mom take you to the hospital?"

Mom looked at me with genuine concern in her tender eyes. I ignored her heartfelt worry, clutched my throbbing head, and stumbled back into my room. Her worried expression did bother me, but right now I had more urgent matters to deal with.

"This can't be fucking real... How does the whole world change overnight?! This isn't some goddamn fantasy novel!"

It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠almost seemed better if I really had cracked my skull and was suffering from some kind of psychotic break, just like Mom suggested.

"Joseon's... history..."

I started searching every internet portal and media outlet I could find using keywords related to history. Soon enough, I discovered a suitable e-book.

It was written in Japanese, but using a translation app's automatic function, I could grasp the content well enough even if the translation wasn't perfect. I wasn't exactly someone who enjoyed reading books or studying, but this wasn't about enriching my mind through the humanities. This was about gathering information for survival.

After roughly five hours of intense research, I finally turned off my phone screen, still clutching it in my hand, and collapsed onto the bed.

"......"

My eyes were bloodshot from staring at text for five straight hours. As I stared blankly at the ceiling, the new information I'd gathered swirled chaotically through my mind.

If everything I'd learned from various sources was true, then the world I was living in now could be summarized like this:

To cut to the chase, this wasn't the Republic of Korea I used to live in. No, it wasn't that it wasn't Korea. The Republic of Korea simply didn't exist here. This place was Japan. More precisely, it was the Korean Peninsula as a territory belonging to the Japanese government—the region known as Joseon.

Borrowing historical terms from the Korea I originally came from, the Japanese colonial period that began in 1910 was still ongoing in this 2025.

In 1910, the Empire of Japan annexed the Korean Empire. To realize its bold ambition of conquering the continent, it triggered the Sino-Japanese War through the Mukden Incident in 1931. Then, in 1941, Japan entered into war with the United States, and the Pacific War broke out. Japanese and American forces clashed across Japan's occupied territories in Asia.

Up to this point, the flow of history wasn't much different from what I knew.

Afterward, in 1945, Japan was supposed to suffer defeat, fall under American military occupation, and the Korean Peninsula was supposed to gain independence and become divided into North and South. That was how history was meant to unfold.

But just as Mom had said, in this world Japan achieved victory instead of defeat in 1945. The United States withdrew its troops from all of Japan's occupied territories, signed a peace treaty extremely unfavorable to itself, and the Pacific War came to an end.

At first I wondered if Japan had dropped an atomic bomb on America (which in the original timeline would have been dropped on Japan), but every history book in this world recorded that a small elite special forces unit of Japan, possessing overwhelmingly superior and powerful ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠superhuman abilities compared to the American military, had decided the outcome of the war.

"Today, His Majesty the Emperor and Her Excellency the Consort have visited Gyeongseong. Our JBS broadcasting station is presenting a special program to commemorate their visit..."

"Marking the 115th anniversary of the merger between Joseon and the homeland this year, as Governor-General of the Joseon Government-General, I..."

Time had passed, and evening had arrived. Sitting on the sofa, lost in thought while listening to the Korean—no, Joseon-language news flowing from the TV, I couldn't help but notice something.

"They're all women."

Every high-ranking official appearing on TV was female.

"Why are you acting so surprised? Nine out of ten people in this world are women," Mom said casually as she sat beside me, peeling tangerines one by one with her own hands. Just a few hours ago she had been worrying nonstop that I might have lost my mind.

In truth, this was Mom's real personality. Straightforward and no-nonsense. Seeing her act so typically like herself somehow put me at ease.

Another characteristic of this world, just as Mom had said, was that the sex ratio was completely fucked. Nine out of ten people were women. To be exact, only about seven to eight percent of the total population were men. Of course, it wasn't solely due to a preference for female children. The natural probability of giving birth to a boy was apparently extremely low.

That didn't mean all of Mom's worries had completely vanished, though.

"Siwoo, even if we say you suddenly became fluent in Joseon-language because you studied hard, how on earth did you end up unable to speak a single word of Japanese? Don't you think we really should go to the hospital together?"

"What would they even do? Give me some medicine that suddenly makes me good at Japanese?"

"Yeah, that does sound pretty pointless even if we went."

"Right?"

Mom let out a small chuckle, nodding in agreement with my words.

"Still, talking with my son in Joseon-language makes Mom really happy~ Why didn't you study it sooner?"

She seemed unable to believe that I was now only speaking in Joseon-language, but that only made her express how pleased she was without hesitation.

"Why? Do you hate Japan?"

I had assumed it was simply because she held a grudge against Japan, but my guess was wrong.

"No~"

"Then why?"

"Your late father almost always spoke only in Joseon-language."

"..........I see."

After hearing that, I kept my mouth shut and said no more. I honestly wanted to know why he had passed, but asking would be like rubbing salt into the wounds still left in Mom's heart, so I didn't press further.

Perhaps thinking of Dad after so long, her eyes grew slightly red. She lightly rubbed at the corners with her sleeve. Watching her, a surge of inner rage rose up and I gripped my head tightly.

That rage wasn't directed at Mom. It was directed at myself.

'Fuck... If only I'd written to save Dad too...'

Once again, I recalled the night of the contract with the devil. I'd been extremely drunk, so not every scene was clear, but I vaguely remembered what wishes I'd written down.

A world ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠where men could live comfortably without doing anything. Something about superpowers. And the wish to resurrect Mom. I had a feeling I'd written one more thing at the end, but I couldn't recall it no matter how hard I tried. At least I could remember writing those three.

Fuck!!! You stupid, brain-dead Namgung Siwoo!!!!

If I'd just written a few more words... If I hadn't been drunk, I could have thought to ask for Dad's resurrection too. The thought kept circling in my head, and I couldn't stop blaming myself. The harder I condemned myself, the tighter my grip on my own hair became.

Unable to control the rage I felt toward myself, I sat there not knowing what to do when my eyes suddenly fell on Mom, who was blankly watching TV.

"......."

But what was done was done. The water had already been spilled. Because of my drunken stupidity, the world had been strangely rewritten, and I had only managed to bring back Mom. It couldn't be undone. The bus had already left the station.

Yes, what could I do about it? What would change if I kept whipping myself over something that couldn't be reversed?

The simple, powerful sentence I have to protect Mom dominated my mind.

I released the grip on my hair, clasped my hands together tightly, and steeled my resolve. Then, a sudden question arose: wasn't it disrespectful to resurrect the dead against their own will?

Of course, Mom's memories of the previous world seemed to have been completely erased. She now held memories of Dad and me from this rewritten world, so it appeared that memories were also reorganized. Still, I fell into a rather philosophical dilemma about whether it was right for me to interfere with the natural law that people must eventually die.

Though at this point, after already resurrecting Mom, it was a rather meaningless concern.

"......."

As I focused on the TV again, another question popped into my head.

"Mom, why does the Governor-General look so young?"

Logically, to reach such a high position, one needed considerable experience and career background. In my original world, presidents were almost always elderly (there had even been a law requiring them to be over forty).

"Young? She's over eighty this year."

"Huh?"

My brain flatly rejected Mom's statement. And for good reason. The woman I was watching on TV, standing on the podium in a suit delivering a speech, had a face completely free of wrinkles. She looked like nothing but a young woman.

"The more Individuality you possess, the longer you live and the slower you age. That lady probably still gets her period."

The shocking statement that someone over eighty still menstruated hit me like a hammer to the head. But according to Mom, not all women were like that. In fact, the mother right in front of me looked like a middle-aged woman appropriate for her actual age.

Of course, our kind and gentle Siwoo did not voice the thought, 'Mom, did you age because your Individuality is weak?' That would have been the kind of thing an unfilial son with a fiery personality might say. Instead, I asked a different question to resolve another doubt.

"Then... are women stronger than men?"

"Why are you asking something so obvious?"

"Th-then... you're saying you're stronger than me, Mom?"

"Want me to show you?"

Mom made a slightly offended face, then, with a playful glint in her eye, gathered both my hands in front of me and grabbed both my wrists with one hand as if putting on handcuffs. Whether it was because of my naturally slender build or because Mom's physique had been strengthened by the world's change, she easily held both my wrists in a single hand.

"Try to break free."

Those words stung my pride. In modern terms, I'd been triggered. I put strength into my hands and tried to spread them apart to escape her grip.

"Eh?"

Just as Mom had explained, as if clearly demonstrating the difference in strength between women and men, my wrists remained completely motionless, still trapped in her hand. Without realizing it, I opened my mouth and let out a stupid sound, practically advertising my panic to her.

This time, instead of just applying force, I used every ounce of strength I had, as if using the power I had while still in the womb, to try to shake off her hand.

It didn't budge.

Mom looked at me as if I were ridiculous. With her free hand, she picked up a pre-peeled tangerine segment, popped it into her own mouth, then picked up another and brought it to my lips as if to feed me by hand.

Sweating from embarrassment and utter helplessness, I still opened my mouth and accepted her kindness.

"The tangerines we bought this time are a bit sour, aren't they?"

Now completely at ease, Mom changed the subject as if nothing had happened. My mind went completely blank. To her, it was just teasing her son. But to me, it was a bitterly painful first taste of just how overwhelmingly powerful women were compared to men in this world.

I could practically hear the sound of my earlier firm resolve shattering into pieces.

Far from me protecting Mom, it seemed Mom would have to protect me. And then, another horrifying realization suddenly flashed through my mind.

'If Mom, who's already at a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠certain age, is this strong... then just how strong are the other women?'

At that moment, the doorbell rang with a bright, clear ding-dong~ ding-dong~, announcing a visitor.