TS Syndrome
A ceiling of pure white filled my vision. An unbroken, perfectly uniform plane of white. The air hung thick with the smell of disinfectant—a cold, barren place that called to mind the threshold of death.
A hospital?
A familiar place. My body, however, did not feel familiar at all.
It hurts.
My head throbbed. My body, on the other hand, felt light. Strangely, impossibly light. The exact opposite of how it usually felt whenever I ended up here.
Normally...
Normally my body, beaten senseless, would have felt heavy as lead, while my head would have been clear—the kind of clarity that comes from actually sleeping through the night. Hospitals, after all, almost never had anyone screaming at dawn or kicking you awake.
But right now, something was prodding at the inside of my skull. A sharp, persistent jab.
"Oh, you're awake. Can you hear me?"
A familiar voice. The nurse who always tucked a piece of candy into my hand whenever I was brought in—Suyeon noona.
I turned my eyes and found a familiar face. Slightly sharp at the inner corners, softening into a gentle droop at the outer edges. A kind smile, and tired eyes. A pristine white uniform, and a name tag that read Lee Suyeon.
"You can tell me anytime. Promise me."
Even the memory of that voice, whispering as she held my hand, came back to me.
"Doctor! The patient is awake."
"Ah. Yes."
A middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair approached, his dress shoes clicking against the floor. The name on his tag was Kim Yunseong. That name was familiar too. So was the face.
"Iseor. Sometimes letting go is the path that's best for both of you. I can help you."
He was a good man too.
This hospital had a lot of good people. People who couldn't just walk past a child who kept getting wheeled through their doors—people who reached out a hand. There had been a few times that hand had almost reached me. But I had shaken my head. I knew that even if I left home, I had nowhere to go. I had figured I just needed to hold on for two more years.
Up to that point, the memories came easily. I reached for my head.
What happened?
Why was I here? The moment I tried to recall that part, nothing came at all.
"Chae Iseor. Can you hear me? Try blinking your eyes."
Not the familiar, easy speech he used when it was just the two of us, but formal language, mindful of the other person in the room. I blinked.
Chae Iseor. That was my name. Second year of middle school. An ordinary... no. A child who was anything but ordinary. The kind of kid who wasn't welcome anywhere.
Something flashed through my mind. But before I could catch hold of it, the doctor's voice cut in.
"Good. Now, try speaking slowly. What was your name?"
"Chae... Iseor."
I managed to open my mouth. My throat felt like it had been split open, but I could still speak.
And yet something was wrong. I frowned, turning it over, and then I realized.
Was my voice always like this?
The voice that had just said my name. Mine had never been particularly deep to begin with. But what I had just heard went well beyond that.
Too delicate.
Clear and lovely. A voice those few short words suited far too well. No matter how I listened, it did not sound like a boy whose voice had broken.
Why?
I tried to lift a hand to my face, but my arm would not move properly. Pain flared instead. A needle was in my arm—an IV, connected to a drip.
"You shouldn't move just yet."
The nurse hurried over to stop me, set down the water she had brought, and helped me sit up.
"Drink slowly. It might startle your stomach."
I reached for the cup. My eyes fell on the hand that reached.
It was small. And pale. Unpleasantly so. It looked like someone else's hand.
That was when I felt it. The hospital gown slipping off my frame. The blanket that was strangely, impossibly heavy. There was vitality in this body, and yet the arms and legs had no strength at all.
This was not my body.
"Iseor."
A low voice settled the chaos. A hand stroking down my back. I lifted my head and found Suyeon noona watching me with worry.
While lukewarm water filled my mouth, the doctor checked the chart.
"May I explain?"
His even tone almost sounded indifferent. But I could hear the kindness in it—the consideration of a man who cared about his patients. It was a perception born of experience.
I nodded, and he held my gaze for a moment. Then, slowly, he continued.
"Gender... transformation?"
I frowned. My mind was still hazy. Even recalling the meaning of words I already knew was slower than usual.
"It's commonly known as TS Syndrome. A rare condition."
That was when I understood what he meant.
Acute Gender Transformation Syndrome. An exceedingly rare disease that struck without warning, anywhere in the world. The symptoms were intuitive and simple. Your sex changed. To the exact opposite. That was all. Nobody knew why it happened—that much I remembered from television.
I have that disease?
"Chae Iseor?"
"...Ah. Yes."
My answer came late, but the doctor nodded with an expression that said he understood completely.
"The blood inside your body, your DNA—all of it has changed to that of a female."
He continued in that same even voice, being careful with me.
"The cause remains unknown, but every person who has contracted this syndrome shares one thing in common. They had all been under extreme stress beforehand."
He paused, then asked more carefully.
"You were brought in three nights ago. Do you remember what happened that night?"
Night. The word swept through my mind.
What happened?
I tried to reach for the memory. But my head only screamed with pain, and nothing came. A memory that felt close enough to grasp, and yet slipped away every time.
"I... I don't know."
The words barely crawled out of me. My brow was drawn tight. The doctor was not disappointed. He only nodded, and offered comfort.
"Don't force it. There's no need to rush."
Beside him, Suyeon noona was biting her lip.
Then the hospital room door opened a crack. Another nurse came in and whispered something to the doctor.
"...Ah. She's already here."
He answered, then looked at me again.
"Chae Iseor. Your mother has come to visit. May I let her in?"
Mother.
The moment that word entered, my mind went blank. I did not know why. Only that something was trying to surface.
The door opened before I could answer. The click of a heel against the floor. And then "Mother" walked in.
...It was definitely Mom. Hair of purest black. Flawless skin. A beautiful face. It was strange. I had never seen her look like this, and yet I knew—without a shred of doubt—that she was Mom.
"Iseor."
A voice I knew well, but lower than usual. Clothes in disarray. And a strange shadow lingering at the corners of her eyes.
Click, click. Mom came toward me with quick steps. And with every step, my body flinched back on its own.
"You're awake. I was so worried."
It was a peculiar thing. Her face was expressionless. And yet anyone who looked at that face would have known she was grieving. The faintly drawn brow. The lightly bitten lip. And a voice that trembled, just barely. Mom was displaying a refined, carefully distilled sorrow.
A grip. The moment my hand was taken, I caught a scent brushing past the tip of my nose. Mother's scent. The perfume she always wore. And woven through them both, a strange, raw smell of blood.
Crash!
"Ah."
The fog that had filled my mind lifted. Fragments of the past rose all at once.
Shattered glass. A shadow lunging forward. Pain. Blood. A familiar woman's face.
"Iseor. Mom was wrong..."
Mother whispered. Her face drew closer. A single tear fell onto the bedsheet.
When that face filled my vision—when our eyes locked—I saw it.
"Ah..."
I couldn't breathe.
"Iseor."
The person holding my hand. No. That thing. Was not my mother.
The voices of the people holding me could not be heard properly. I could not see anything. It was as if my face had been shoved underwater. Every sense was locked on those eyes, and those eyes alone.
Terror. Fear. No—something more fundamental than that. A sensation as if my very existence were being sliced apart, piece by piece, starting from the tips of my toes.
And then.
Haa...
Darkness came.