A World Without Common Sense
A world without common sense.
Humanity's greatest invention is common sense—a fact even recorded in the Watermelon Scrolls of Goguryeo.
You don't cross the street on a red light. You don't eat food past its expiration date. You don't open the door of a containment cell just because a woman is sobbing inside.
We agreed to call these self-evident truths common sense.
Four years ago, Black Doors appeared across the world. Creatures and objects never before seen poured out of them, and a handful of unlucky people standing nearby when the doors opened found their bodies transformed.
Things and people began vanishing without warning—then reappearing just as suddenly as they had disappeared.
The phenomenon was named the Transfer Incident.
Horns sprouting from someone's head. A person who no longer cast a reflection. A dog that could speak human language…
When that talking dog ran for the National Assembly, I genuinely wondered if I'd lost my mind. It was a dog-gressman, in the most literal sense of the word.
Set against cases like those, what happened to me was relatively tame.
My sex changed, and that was it.
I got shorter. My voice went higher. Unnecessary flesh piled onto my chest and hips…
I've been living under a woman's name for four years now.
…My shoulders.
Finished getting ready for work, I kneaded each shoulder in turn. Even under a thick knit sweater and a bra, the weight of my chest hadn't lessened in the slightest.
They get crushed when I sleep on my stomach, bounce when I run—they're no help at all. Just the chief culprits behind the constant ache in my shoulders and back.
Back when the Black Door Incident first hit, I used to flush looking in the mirror. Four years later, all I could manage was a sigh.
Women who'd lived their whole lives with these things attached suddenly earned my genuine respect.
I shrugged a white researcher's coat over the knit, shoved my ID carelessly into the pocket of my jeans, pulled on black gloves and protective goggles, and that was that. Ready for work.
My current post: Team Leader of Research Team 1 at the 4th Containment Facility.
I didn't climb into the position on the strength of any remarkable talent. I just… survived, in the most ordinary way. My entire cohort died, that's all.
.
.
.
Not ten minutes after I clocked in, the Facility Director came looking for me.
"Got a minute?"
A woman I'd never seen before stood beside him.
The first thing that caught my eye was the blonde hair—waist-length strands that glittered under the facility lights hard enough to hurt. Her irises were blue, each one set with a star-shaped pattern at the center.
Contacts? Or a mutated human, like me?
I checked her outfit.
A white shirt and a short black skirt… an excessively short skirt. One that didn't even cover half her thighs—the world really was ending. She'd left the top two buttons of the shirt undone, too.
And those high heels—what was the point? If someone mistook her for a bar hostess instead of a researcher, she wouldn't have a leg to stand on.
"…So, uh, what is it?"
"Nothing major. Think you could train one new hire?"
"Everything else is fine, but the clothes—"
"Hm? What's wrong with the clothes?"
"Her bare legs are completely exposed. What happens if chemicals splash on them, or a dermal parasite latches on?"
Blink. Blink.
The Facility Director fluttered his eyes as if he couldn't parse a word I'd said.
"Kids these days all dress like that…"
"Who, exactly?"
I glanced down the corridor. Every researcher walking past was in long pants and a lab coat.
…Hold on. Why wasn't anyone treating this bizarre blonde woman's outfit as strange?
Unbelievable.
"I'm not training her until she dresses properly."
"Aren't you being a little picky?"
"I'm asking her to follow basic dress code. How is that picky?"
The Facility Director was still blinking at me.
This is exhausting.
The blonde woman had been quietly listening to our exchange from the side. Our eyes met, and those star-studded pupils curved into pretty crescent moons.
"Nice to meet you! I'm Lee Sirin."
A pleasant voice.
Pretty, too.
"Age?"
"Uh… twenty-five!"
"Have you completed field training?"
"Yes! All of it!"
"Were you wearing a skirt during field training, too?"
"Yes. It's cute, right?"
"If you lose a leg wearing cute clothes, should I neatly amputate the other one to match? For symmetry."
Ahem.
The Facility Director cleared his throat beside us, offering a pointed warning.
The new hire who'd introduced herself as Lee Sirin was still beaming, completely unfazed by what I'd said.
"If you don't like it, Team Leader, I'll change into whatever clothes you prefer!"
"…You don't need to wear clothes I like. Wear clothes that are safe. Something with less skin exposure."
"Like jeans?"
"Yes."
Sirin's gaze dropped to my legs.
Starting from the thighs hidden under denim, she slowly, blatantly raked her eyes up over my waist and chest.
I'd grown used enough to men's stares—but a woman looking me over this openly was… rare. Unfamiliar.
"Aha, so I just need to dress like you, Team Leader."
"Grab goggles and gloves, too. Better to tie your hair back."
"Should I just dress exactly like you, Team Leader?"
"…Every other researcher dresses like I do. Why do you keep emphasizing 'Team Leader'?"
Sirin smiled and muddled her answer. Those star-shaped pupils stayed locked on my face.
In four years of living in a woman's body, I'd never once felt my heart race for a man. My preferences hadn't changed either. My eyes still went to a pretty woman before a handsome man.
The new hire in front of me was quite pretty herself. She'd look even prettier if she just listened—a real shame.
I took Sirin's file from the Facility Director.
Training scores… perfect marks across every category?!
Good lord.
The interviewer's notes added that her diligence, exceptional judgment, and exemplary attitude had left a strong impression.
The image didn't match at all.
"…Remarkable."
"Hm? What is?"
The Facility Director asked back, and Sirin kept smiling at me.
I should have realized it then.
Lee Sirin watched Team Leader Seollin with a smiling face.
Sirin's true nature was an adult female-type anomaly that had appeared after the Black Door Incident.
She had no family, no school, no past as a researcher. The name Lee Sirin and the age of twenty-five had been decided on the spot, just moments ago.
Seollin's name had struck her as pretty, so she'd borrowed a little of it.
Sirin could alter other people's perceptions and common sense.
If she locked eyes with someone and repeated a claim she'd decided was self-evident, the other party accepted it as a fact they'd known all along.
Before entering the facility, Lee Sirin had spread three pieces of common sense: that short skirts were one of the standard uniforms at a containment facility; that star-shaped pupils were a common physical trait; and that Lee Sirin was an exemplary researcher who had scored perfect marks on every training course.
The reception staff, the interviewers, even the Facility Director himself had absorbed these truths without a shred of doubt.
Hmm…? Why isn't it working?
Seollin was the only person with any resistance to the effect.
Given enough time, Sirin could break her down—but she was the type who saved the tastiest bite for last.
Sirin slowly looked her over.
Curiosity stirred.
Heh heh.