Money's a Big Problem

Life has a way of blindsiding you. The common sense you thought you knew gets flipped upside down. The internet suddenly drowns in gay memes. Or you find yourself actually showing up to college, and some girl you've never seen before starts being all sweet and friendly.

That last one? Yeah. That was one of those things.

The kind of supernatural situation no rational mind could ever see coming.

And right now, I was living one.

"So, what should we eat?"

Lee Eun-byul — that was how she'd introduced herself — walked ahead of me as she asked. Her footsteps tapped lightly against the ground, and with every bounce, hair the color of the night sky swayed behind her. She was a second-year in the Physical Education department, one of the few high-tier majors at this school, the kind you only got into with both the grades and the athletic skills to back them up. She'd originally been prepping for a sports college, she said, but she'd liked the idea of teaching kids more, so she'd gone into PE education instead.

It showed. Of course a sports-related major would have a body like that. It wasn't just the proportions — if you looked closely, well-trained muscle hinted at itself all over her frame. Not too little, not too much. And those muscles, wrapped in skin-tight leggings, only stood out more, her ass bouncing taut and springy with every step.

Hah... fuck.

I didn't want to, but my eyes kept dragging downward. The pull was like a goddamn black hole. Guilt and bliss hit me at the same time. I wasn't even sure I was allowed to keep looking.

Wait. Fuck that.

Thinking about it, was there actually a problem? This was a gender-reversed world. If a woman checked out my body and got off on it, I'd probably feel pretty good about that, deep down. Wouldn't the women here feel the same way?

Grrrr...

For a second, the little beast inside me poked its head out, whispering like a devil to just relax and look all I wanted. I barely managed to hold the urge down. First meeting or not, even I had that much courtesy in me.

"Is there anything you'd like to eat, senior? Oh — we're the same year anyway, so should I just call you oppa?"

I'd zoned out for a second, and she asked again. The title had already slipped, casual as anything, from senior to oppa. The social instincts on this girl were terrifying. If the convenience store clerk from last time was your garden-variety extrovert, the woman in front of me was an extrovert among extroverts. A certified social demon. No question.

Did she seriously just come out here to make friends...?

I still couldn't figure out what she was after, but I decided to let it go for now. Human relationships didn't always need an angle to function. For the moment, I was going to enjoy this — the simple fact of eating a meal with a pretty girl.

"Hmm... good question. Is there anywhere decent around here?"

I barely knew the restaurants in this neighborhood. Hardly surprising, given how rarely I actually showed up to campus. And honestly, I'd eat just about anything — beef liver, intestines, grilled tripe, or something blisteringly spicy. My stomach could handle it all. So I left the choice to Lee Eun-byul, figuring she'd pick something decent.

I would regret that decision almost immediately. I had completely overlooked what a restaurant that "guys would like" meant in this world.

"A carbonara specialty restaurant...?"

By the time I came back to my senses, we were already inside. I was holding a menu, staring at the options. Every last one of them was pale, washed-out, and sickeningly cute — the kind of food only fucking gay dudes would eat. Wait. Come to think of it, most of the guys here were fucking gay dudes.

Urgh...?

"What do you think? This place is pretty famous for its pasta. It's even been on TV."

I wanted to stand up and leave right then, but we'd already sat down, and Lee Eun-byul was looking at me from across the table like she expected me to be pleased. Checkmate. All I could do was laugh awkwardly.

"Haha... yeah, this is fine."

We were here, so I had to order something. I opened the menu and scanned it, figuring I'd just get a tomato spaghetti and be done with it.

Except.

Huh?

It wasn't there. Unbelievably, tomato spaghetti — the most fundamental pasta of them all — was nowhere on the menu. I was stunned. How could a place have so little respect for the basics?

True to its identity as a carbonara specialty restaurant, they only served cream-based pasta.

Then again, in a certain sense, maybe that was sticking to the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fundamentals. They'd just picked the wrong thing to specialize in.

Ah, well. No choice. I went with the basic carbonara. It was the cheapest thing on the menu.

"Here you are."

The pasta came out surprisingly fast. A few minutes after ordering, a steaming plate was set down in front of me. I'd heard that specialty pasta places pre-boiled and stored their noodles — this one seemed to work the same way. I carefully twirled up a small bite and tried it.

Slurp. White noodles flecked with parsley slid into my mouth. I chewed slowly, giving the flavor a fair chance.

...Huh.

Bland. If I exaggerated just a little, I'd say it had no flavor at all. This was a specialty restaurant? This was that fancy, high-class pasta? The taste made no sense to me.

"Mmm~."

The girl across from me, though, seemed to be enjoying herself. I was starting to wonder if she'd just wanted to come here for her own sake.

"It's good. Hehe — honestly, I love pasta, but I haven't been able to come here much. I hang out with girls a lot, so it's a little awkward to suggest this place, you know?"

So it was true, fuck. The back of my head was still stinging.

"So how about we come here together sometimes? We can talk, and it'll be nice."

That sting healed with the very next sentence. A follow-up invitation, sliding in as naturally as water downhill — and those bright, sparkling eyes looking right at me, the quiet little lift at the corner of her mouth. If this were the other world, this fox would've made more than a few guys cry. Her social game was so overwhelming I just stammered out a reply.

"Uh, uh... sure."

"Hehe. Okay~."

She answered like that and went back to her pasta. Slurp. The noodles slid along her lips and into her mouth, and maybe it was because she was so pretty, but even that looked like something out of a photoshoot.

I ate a little awkwardly. Even in a gender-reversed world, some people just lock up if they spend too long around a woman. I was one of those people. A little back-and-forth was fine, but sit there long enough and the stiffness crept in. Every time the conversation dipped, though, Eun-byul picked it back up like it was nothing.

"Come to think of it, oppa, why did you take a gap year?"

"Ah. I was originally prepping for art school, but I didn't get in."

"Ahh..."

The darker stuff came up now and then. She handled it anyway, reacting, keeping the thread alive.

"Oh! Then you must be really good at drawing. I love looking at art, actually."

Honestly, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it was comfortable. The way she responded, the way she smiled — Eun-byul had a talent for putting people at ease. Thanks to that, a full hour slipped by before I knew it. A few bites of noodles, a few exchanges, and suddenly class time was coming up. She looked a little disappointed for a second, then we parted ways on campus.

"Let's see each other again, oppa."

By the time I processed what had happened, we'd already exchanged numbers. One hour. In a single hour, I had dropped the formalities with a complete stranger, eaten a meal with her, and swapped contact info.

"What the hell."

I still had questions. But I felt good. Good enough that a thought like wait, does she like me? actually crossed my mind. Not that you'd feel that strongly about someone you'd just met — but I could tell there was at least some goodwill there. Was it the face? Getting handsome really did change things, huh.

Thanks, Lee Se-won. Of all the mountain of dumb shit you pulled, this one I can get behind. I'll inherit the will of your lotion, your toner, and your moisturizer. Don't you worry.

"Hmm~."

I turned around with a spring in my step I hadn't felt in a long time. The way I was feeling, I could survive the lecture waiting for me no problem. Come at me, Economic Statistics! I'll tank even your goddamn number-crunching.

But then I realized I'd overlooked something.

Ding!

A notification chimed, sharp and ominous, right through that floating good mood. The 7,900 won I'd just spent at the pasta place flashed through my mind — and right behind it, every little charge from the last five days.

"Ah... right."

Come to think of it, I had barely checked my bank account this whole time. I'd been too much of a coward to face that kind of brutal despair. But it was something I had to look at eventually — and if I had to look, it made more sense to do it now, while I was still riding high. It would offset at least some of the damage.

I opened the bank app with the feeling of a man staring into the abyss.

Five days of stacked notifications, and sitting on top of them, the balance.

A miserable number.

Kh...!

Tears welled up at the sight of my pitiful balance, now scraped down into the tens of thousands. Thank god I wasn't at home. I almost screamed again.

How long could I even live on that? Meals, transit, rent — worry after ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠worry piled onto my chest and pressed down. Even if I set aside rent, which wasn't due immediately, food and transit were still there. It would all be gone in a week, probably. A week... and after that, I could already picture myself starving to death.

"Money... I fucking need money......"

The situation was worse than I'd thought. I needed money, and I needed it now. Fortunately, I had a way to make some. It felt a little early for that... but I didn't have a choice.

It was time I started ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠taking NSFW commissions.