Discharge Day
Acute Gender Metamorphosis Syndrome.
That's the name in English. Filthily long right out of the gate, but unpack it and the illness itself turns out to be surprisingly simple. Which is exactly why everyone should make loving use of their translation apps. Class dismissed.
A rare condition whose existence was only confirmed in modern times. Not contagious (probably), and so few people have ever come down with it that you could sift through the entire human race and count the patients on one hand.
And when it hits, your sex changes. A man becomes a woman. Or a woman becomes a man. Fin.
Easy, right?
Of course, in practice there is the minor issue of a positively electric festival kicking off inside your body while the change takes place, but—
In the two weeks after treatment began, I learned by body and soul just how far modern medicine could gut-renovate a human being.
What stuck in memory most was the heart situation.
Somewhere deep inside me, the fellow abruptly sprang upright and announced:
"Oh mai gawd, boss, me gonna go on stwike, 'kay?"
"You're my fucking heart, that's what you are!"
And with that, it flopped back down.
No, really—of all your organs, you were the one that couldn't be doing that.
Anyway.
All hail modern medicine.
I lived. I survived.
And then I spent a full year locked up in the hospital.
And today...
The moment I opened my eyes, I snatched up the calendar at my bedside.
September 17th.
I had checked. Definitely, definitely, definitely checked.
September 17th.
Worried I wasn't fully awake, I scrubbed my eyes and checked one more time.
Still September 17th.
"......Heheh."
Today was the day I got discharged.
Bah-bah-rah-BAAM!
The historic day I finally settled my tear-stained account with hospital life and returned to society!
Moved to tears? I was far too hyped for anything as dainty as being moved! I kicked the blanket off and swung out of bed.
Or, to be precise, tried to.
"Whoa—"
Huh. Was the Leaning Tower of Pisa actually built on perfectly flat ground?
Because that was what it felt like right now.
The instant my soles touched the floor, the world tipped a few degrees, and an arm reached out beside me.
"Slowly."
"I'm fine, Taehyun."
"Mm."
"I'm really fine?"
"I know. I know, and I'm doing it anyway."
Kang Taehyun kept a grip on my arm and didn't let go.
Ah, right—this jerk was my childhood friend.
The childhood friend who'd been glued to my side from birth to this very moment.
We lived close, our parents were close, and we'd attended the same schools basically our entire lives, so if you pressed me for the origin story of our friendship, I'd honestly be stumped.
When I came to, he was there. When I couldn't come to and got dumped into a hospital, he was there too.
The only problem was that I'd become a girl, I guess?
Whatever, though. Kang Taehyun was Kang Taehyun, and I was Lee Hajin.
We'd been inseparable ball-buddies for a dozen-odd years—there was hardly anything left to change between us at this point—
...Ah.
My balls were gone.
Okay, that part had changed quite a lot.
After a short wait the floor went back to behaving, and I straightened up like nothing had happened, reaching for the buttons of my hospital gown.
"Now then, the historic Undressing Ceremony—"
"Go change in the bathroom."
"Why?"
Taehyun looked at me.
I looked back at Taehyun.
A beat of silence.
Ah.
That's right. I was a girl now.
I'd said it out loud a minute ago and forgotten again.
"...Since when have you cared about that stuff?"
"Since a year ago."
"Low blow."
"How is that a low blow?"
On the bed, the luggage Taehyun had packed sat stacked in neat little towers.
A year of living in there, and honestly, it defied belief how much had come out of one hospital room.
Clothes, books, chargers, assorted everyday odds and ends.
And wedged in among it all, a single stuffed animal—donated by whom, I couldn't remember.
I picked it up.
"This one's getting thrown out."
"You slept hugging it every night."
"Stop falsifying history."
"I have photos."
"Those are doctored."
"Mm."
Taehyun slid the plushie into the bag.
This punk had gotten way too comfortable steamrolling me lately.
Lip poked out, I gathered my change of clothes and ducked into the bathroom. Off came the gown; over my head went the T-shirt—and a fistful of hair snagged itself dead in the collar.
"Ah, shit."
The long hair still managed to surprise me now and then.
After some wrestling I freed myself and looked in the mirror.
A pale face.
Black hair spilling down past my neck.
Features arranged prettily, atop a small, scrawny frame.
With a roomy hoodie layered over the top, the look was complete: one fully assembled ailing high school girl.
Pretty, female, and frail.
The one part of me still running at full power was my mouth. That's me for you.
When I opened the bathroom door, Taehyun glanced up—and for a second, his gaze snagged.
"What."
"Nothing."
"Hey, Kang Taehyun. You falling for me or something?"
"Just pack your stuff."
"Your face looks a little red, though?"
"Did a year of hospital meds fry your brain, you lunatic?"
"What about your ears?"
"Lee. Hajin."
"Yes, yes. A thousand apologies, Master Master Master."
Today was a good day. A day for treasuring one's life.
Perched on the bed, I powered on the smartphone. True to its Sehwa-latest-model pedigree, the thing felt luxurious just sitting in my palm.
I opened the messenger and tapped the familiar name.
The reply had come back fast. I looked down at the phone in my hand.
Come to think of it, hadn't this guy given me this one too? But an admission gift and a discharge gift were two entirely separate line items on any respectable ledger, were they not?
A moment later.
"Who are you texting?"
At some point Taehyun had teleported to my flank, and I clapped the screen against my chest.
Privacy is a fundamental human right!
"My private life!"
And his rebuttal?
"Meds."
"Since when?"
I'd barely gotten my hand out before the pill packet rose to meet it.
This guy was getting genuinely a little terrifying.
The moment I tore the packet open without thinking, lukewarm water appeared at my elbow. So this was what it felt like to be a young miss with a butler?
Not bad, actually.
I swallowed the pills while sneaking a peek at the screen. Nothing new.
Stingy old codger. Getting this bent out of shape over one discharge present.
"Hajin?"
A familiar voice came from the door.
Dr. Choi Eungyeong—the person who, over a full year, had studied my body more closely than her own, and simultaneously the person I'd picked more fights with than anyone else in this hospital.
"Doctor!"
I popped straight up out of my seat.
"I'm going home!"
"Keep bouncing around like that and you'll be readmitted."
I sat back down.
"I'm not going home."
"Good choice."
"You just trampled a person's hopes, Doctor."
Dr. Choi gave a little snort and flipped through my chart.
"Being discharged is not the same as being cured. No skipping meds. The second you overdo it, you rest. Fever, shortness of breath, chest pain—don't tough it out; come straight to the hospital."
"Yes."
"I mean it."
"Yesss."
"Kang Taehyun."
"Yes, Doctor."
Why was the lecture that had started out aimed at me gliding so smoothly over to Taehyun?
"The morning meds switched to this one, right, Doctor?"
"Yes. You can drop the previous prescription. And if the dizziness gets severe—"
"Hold it. I have an objection!"
Regrettably, no dramatic sound effect followed.
Both of them turned to stare at me.
"The patient here is me."
"I know."
"Then why is the guardian briefing going to that punk?"
Dr. Choi's eyes flicked between the two of us, and then she closed the chart.
"Because one word to Kang Taehyun does more than a hundred words to you?"
I wound up for a rebuttal, then shut my mouth again.
Hng.
"Traitor. You're the worst, Doctor. I'm a high schooler now, you know! The age where I get a say in my own decisions!"
"Just take your meds."
"Won't you be bored without me, though?"
"Not at all."
The answer came back entirely too fast.
"At least pretend to think it over a little."
Dr. Choi snickered, then gave my head a single light pat.
"Let's not meet again. Outside this place, I mean."
"..."
Grr.
"Is that any way for a doctor to talk to her patient?"
"It's the finest farewell blessing there is."
Couldn't argue with that one.
The discharge paperwork took longer than I'd expected. Test results re-verified, prescription collected, post-discharge precautions recited yet again, every signature line signed—and threaded through it all, a slow lap around the ward to say our goodbyes.
"Hajin, you're really going?"
"Please don't cry once I'm gone."
"Peace and quiet at last."
"After all the help I gave you with your blood pressure management, too."
"You raised it, sure."
"That's management as well. You were the one worried about low blood pressure, weren't you?"
"These days I'm on hypertension medication."
"Which is exactly why I'm discharging myself!"
The nurses whose faces I'd come to know over the year lobbed their jabs one at a time, and I volleyed back every single one without ceding an inch of ground.
Then, on the walk back from the far end of the corridor, my breathing went a little short.
It was nothing.
Really.
I reached a hand out for the wall, and a hand was already there beneath my elbow first.
"Sit."
"I'm perfectly—"
"Sit."
"...Fine."
By the time my rear hit the nearest chair, Taehyun—my bag now hanging off his shoulder next to his own—had cracked open a bottle of water and held it out.
Nom nom.
So this was the heart of a baby bird, taking its food straight from its mother's beak.
Then again, maybe he'd always been like this.
Or maybe not.
Once my breathing settled, I stood up first.
"Let's go."
"You okay?"
"Yeah."
This time Taehyun didn't ask twice, and by the time we made it back to the room, the rest of the luggage had been squared away as well.
He hoisted the two enormous bags, and I—
"Where's mine?"
"I'm carrying it."
"No. I'll carry mine."
"Nope. You'll keel over."
"Quit treating me like a patient."
"You are one."
Cold, hard truth is a form of violence.
I stood empty-handed in front of the hospital room door.
So this was really the end.
A whole year.
Long as hell.
Mid-step over the threshold, I stopped and looked back.
There was the white bed. Morning sun spilled in through the window, and the little fridge and the drawer unit I'd stared at for a year sat right where they always had. Against one wall stood the IV stand.
Only days ago, my drip had been hanging right there.
The first time I'd ever been laid down in that bed—
My phone buzzed in my palm, and I glanced down at the screen.
"...Good grief."
I pocketed the phone.
"Let's go, Taehyun."
"Yeah."
The hospital room door swung shut behind us, and I left exactly one thing behind on it.
Thanks for putting up with my sorry, freeloading ass for so long!!!
[A crude sketch of Sanji, mid-bow]
For the record, Taehyun drew that, too.
I can't draw for shit.
The moment we pushed out through the main gates of Sehwa Seoul Hospital, exactly one thought got there first.
Bright.
"Whoa, jeez. Was it always this bright out here?"
"Hospitals have windows too, you know."
"Zero romance in that."
And then the second thought.
"It's hot."
"It's September."
"Should we go back inside?"
"Should we? Let's head back out once the weather cools down. We've done a full year in there—another six months can't hurt, right? That's a whole tour of duty. Think of it as military experience and let's go, Taehyun."
"Are you insane?"
"I don't even get drafted anymore, you know?"
Just as Taehyun heaved a sigh, someone stepped out of the black sedan parked along the curb.
Even I—a certified ignoramus on all things automotive—could tell the car was expensive. The three-pointed star on the grille glinted hard enough to broadcast money from across the street.
And the woman closing the driver's-side door looked even more flagrantly successful than her car.
Kang Taerin.
Taehyun's older sister.
The terrifying sister who'd marched straight out of law school into a major firm—one of those where the name alone tells you everything.
Ordinarily she prowled the streets in a tailored suit like a woman about to eat someone alive—
"HAJINNNN!"
Today, she had come to eat me.
"Huh?"
With zero room to escape, Taerin sprinted over and swept me up in a crushing hug.
"Our Hajin! You're really out! Oh my god, look at this face. Why are you so tiny? Have you been eating? Does anything still hurt? Did you miss me?"
"S-sis, air—"
"Aigoo, my baby!"
I am not a baby. And my ribs are relocating! I cannot breathe! Somebody, please—!
I fired off a rescue request in Taehyun's direction, but either the signal hit a reception error or something, because Taehyun just stood there watching.
Hey. Save me.
"Sis."
Ooh, there it is—my friend. My brother. My tomodachi.
"Put the luggage in the trunk."
"..."
Taerin tossed the car keys, and Taehyun caught them one-handed.
"Sis."
"What?"
"Whose sister are you, exactly?"
"Hajin's big sister."
"..."
"Luggage."
Taehyun stared at his sister for a long moment, then looked over at me—and there I was, nestled in Taerin's arms, giving him a great big shrug.
Life was unfair from the factory.
That's just how the world worked.
"Taehyun."
"What."
"Careful with my bag."
"Sis, where's the nearest landfill?"
"Throw out a patient's belongings and heaven will strike you down."
"You told me earlier not to treat you like a patient."
"Depends on the situation."
Only after Taehyun had vanished toward the trunk did Taerin finally loosen her grip a little, cupping my cheeks in both hands.
"Are you really okay, Hajin?"
"Look for yourself. One hundred percent healthy young lady."
"...Right."
Her thumb brushed my cheek once, slow.
"You're pretty, our Hajin."
"Aren't I, though?"
"Mm."
"Prettier than Taehyun?"
"Is that even a contest?"
From somewhere behind us, the trunk slammed shut with unusual volume, and we looked at each other and burst out laughing.
Taerin even opened the rear door for me herself.
"Your carriage, Princess."
"Where to, driver?"
"Your discharge party."
I froze.
"A party?"
"Yep."
"Who's coming?"
"You'll find out when you get there."
Now that was a little suspicious.
I clambered into the back seat, and before Taehyun, climbing in after me, had even gotten his seatbelt fastened, I stuck my hand out.
"What."
"My phone."
"You're holding it."
"...Oh. Right."
I fished it out of my pocket and lit the screen up. No new messages.
...What the hell.
I get discharged, and a single word of congratulations is that hard to produce? I killed the screen, counted to three, and turned it back on.
Nothing. That's it. I'm going to kill that convict old fart. Before he can rack up conviction number three, I'll do it myself...
"Off we go?"
At Taerin's voice, I lowered the phone.
"Let's roll!"
Sehwa Seoul Hospital slid slowly backward past the window, and I pressed my face against the glass to watch it shrink.
Smaller and smaller—until the light changed, the car took the corner, and the hospital was gone from view.
"Hajin."
"Hm? What is it, sis?"
"What do you want to eat?"
I whipped around on the spot.
"Meat."
"Good."
"Expensive meat. Insanely expensive meat. Wagyu's good, pork belly's good, lamb's good—honestly, everything's good!"
"Great. I'll buy all of it."
"...Are you allowed to answer that fast?"
"Your big sis is rich. So from now on, you call me Big Sis. Got it?"
"Big Sis."
"Yes? What is it, my baby sister Hajin?"
"I love you."
From the passenger seat, Taehyun turned his head around.
"Whose Big Sis?"
Grinning ear to ear, I flashed him a victory V.
"Our Big Sis."
"Get out."
"What are you saying to my little sister? You get out, Kang Taehyun."
My first day out of the hospital.
Turned out the world was a lot more livable than I'd given it credit for.