I'm Wearing Them, Though
Just what kind of couple was this?
The woman clearly felt constricted, yet had no idea of her own size, so she insisted the man should be the one to ask. When the staff brought out bras matching the measured size, the woman actually congratulated the man, who told them not to measure her and that he would pick the designs himself.
Was it some peculiar fetish—letting only the man know the size?
The employee's mind was a whirl of confusion.
"Um, are you two a couple?"
"No?"
"Nope."
The simultaneous answers only deepened the confusion.
If they weren't a couple, then what kind of relationship was this…?
She knew it was rude to speculate about a customer's private life, but even thinking about it made her head spin worse. As long as she didn't ask out loud it was fine—but she couldn't stop the curiosity from swelling.
If not a couple, then partners?
Whatever it was, maniacal relationships existed in this world, and living long enough meant you ran into them eventually. She handed over the garments with that fresh realization.
"This should be comfortable enough…"
"Try this one on."
As if to prove he hadn't been joking earlier, the man casually selected the design himself.
"Okay."
The woman accepted it without a second thought, vanishing behind the curtain as if objecting to his choice was never an option, and started grunting as she struggled into it.
"C-could you help me…?"
"Ah, yes."
The employee hurried in and fastened the hooks.
"How is it? Does it feel too tight?"
"Ah, it digs in a little, but it's fine."
"A little snug is unavoidable. It has to grip like that to hold everything in place."
"Is that so… Well, can't be helped then."
The woman stepped out through the curtain, declared it comfortable, and swayed her body left and right.
The man stared at her, then made a complicated face—neither pleased nor displeased.
Girlfriend or partner, you'd think a man would be happy about a large chest, so why did something feel off?
Even watching their dynamic, the employee still couldn't get a read on them.
"Hey, hey… how many are you buying?"
"If the size changed, you just buy them all while you're at it."
I'd thought he was picking designs because he planned to wear them a long time—but no, he started grabbing them left and right.
"I'm only wearing these temporarily?"
"So what, you planning to wear that one pair for a thousand years?"
"Well, no, but…"
"You need enough to rotate through."
He sighed and kept plucking more into his hands. In no time Song Haneul had selected ten, set them on the counter, and pulled a card from his wallet.
Looking closer, it wasn't one Mom or Dad had given him.
"You're paying?"
"Of course I'm paying. You paying instead?"
"I'll split it."
"Forget it. You can cover me when I buy clothes."
I thought about it for a second, then shut my mouth—I wasn't exactly losing out here. Seeing the price of ten bras as an actual number had also been enough to keep me from stepping forward too boldly.
I hovered awkwardly, and a shopping bag came flying at me.
His attitude felt similar to before, and yet somehow colder—maybe because he was doing it in a man's body. The impression was a little different from what I'd felt previously.
Not that I'd done anything wrong; I was just shrinking into myself, reading the room for no good reason.
"Still, buying them puts my mind at ease. But isn't dropping a few hundred thousand won a bit of a bloodbath?"
"Bottoms are included, that's why."
"…Oh. Really?"
"Besides a few basics, there are sets too."
Even so, ten pieces felt like they should easily fill out a few hundred thousand.
"Do you always match top and bottom?"
"…No."
"Yeah? Well, matching every day would be hard. If you always did, the moment one side wore out you'd have to toss the other."
I'd found a reasonably logical answer. The clogged-up part of my mind cleared, and it felt refreshing.
But Song Haneul, who'd been listening, looked anything but comfortable—he glared down at me with axe-blade eyes.
I used to be the one looking down. Now I had to look up.
At home I'd just accepted it, but walking around outside made the difference starkly clear.
I didn't know why.
"What?"
"Outside, shut up a little… Why are you doing that with my face."
"Ah. Shutting up."
I mimed clamping a hand over my mouth and watched his expression carefully.
Right now, I was Song Haneul. I knew things had changed, and yet I kept forgetting that fact over and over.
Spouting underwear talk in Song Haneul's body meant every gaze in the vicinity locked onto us. In the moment those stares were aimed at me, but ultimately they were looking at "Song Haneul"—so of course he'd be irritated.
"…Sorry. I just keep having so many questions."
My mouth had a mind of its own.
You'd only know how to handle this if you'd lived through it. Having never experienced anything like it, the confusion only piled higher.
I wanted to gather information just to lighten the load a little, but Song Haneul kept trying to hide things—whether out of embarrassment or something else—and that was the problem.
The more he did, the bigger my doubts and curiosity grew.
Not that it would help; I'd only flail harder, and that did neither of us any good.
Even if I said as much, Song Haneul would probably just get mad and insist he didn't want to explain.
"Let's go back."
Song Haneul looked exhausted, eager to get home fast.
The whole point of the trip had been shopping for clothes I'd wear, so there wasn't anything left to do anyway.
When we got home and shut the door, I saw Song Haneul charging up a growl of anger—euuugh.
After the way I'd acted on the street, he'd probably been holding it in the whole time.
"Oh, you're back. Where'd you two go?"
Sometime in between, Mom had come home.
Song Haneul's emotions, which had been boiling toward an explosion, immediately deflated.
"Just… buying some clothes…"
I offered the reason with an awkward smile, and Mom smiled back.
"It's nice seeing you two get along so well. Knowing you're both here even when the house is empty puts my mind at ease. Oh, and Son—you're resting at home through the end of this year, right?"
"Yes."
"Then the two of you take good care of each other. I'll drop by now and then, but you'll still be alone together a lot, so no fighting."
Was she saying that because she thought shopping together meant we had a good relationship?
It hadn't been bad before, but now I wasn't sure.
We'd become something different from ordinary siblings who bickered and squabbled.
The only regret was that I couldn't say so.
Telling Mom and Dad was even harder.
She spoke as if she were about to leave any second, then stepped into the master bedroom for a moment.
Even so, there was no telling when she'd come back out, so we couldn't stay in one room and grumble at each other the way we had earlier.
"Give it."
I took the shopping bag Song Haneul had been carrying the whole time.
Rummaging through the drawers however I pleased felt a bit much, but if I just tossed everything in a corner of the room, he'd organize it tomorrow.
I paused. We'd bought tops and underwear, but no pants.
If the reason he'd bought underwear in sets was so I'd mainly wear those, then for pants he was planning to just lend me his… but I had no idea what I was supposed to sleep in.
I sent a text and asked casually.
Couldn't be helped. While Mom was around, even going into each other's rooms would look awkward.
After a brief blank, a reply came back.
I tossed back a rough answer and cracked the drawer open.
Dolphin shorts… weren't those way too short?
I knew what they were, but I hesitated a moment. Then again, if I was only wearing them inside the house, maybe it wasn't worth fretting over—so I reached for them soon enough.
Long sleeves and long pants were a hard no, no matter how little body heat I ran.
"Nnngh."
This guy. It didn't seem like it, and yet he had a surprising amount of meat on him.
I tugged the shorts up. They barely covered the groin. My hips felt tightly hugged, but they fit so snugly there was zero sense of them hanging loose.
I'd thought they'd be too tight, but after moving around a little they weren't bad. If anything, everything except the top was open and breezy, so they were actually comfortable.
"Not bad."
Not a skirt, not long pants—just comfortable.
It was a different sensation from simply wearing regular shorts.
I dug through the shopping bag and pulled on the clothes we'd bought today too. The new-clothes smell and stiff texture wrapped around my upper body.
After spending so long in tops that squeezed my chest, savoring the freedom of something loose felt downright refreshing.
"Haaah, nice."
I leaned toward the full-length mirror in the room and stared hard at myself.
Hair washed, new clothes on—Song Haneul's figure filled both my eyes as I peered at it.
This was me right now.
It was Song Haneul, and yet it was also me, which made the whole thing feel strange in a new way.
The oversized top hung loose, barely covering my lower half—dangerously close to not covering it at all.
I was the type who only cared about comfort top and bottom, so it didn't really matter.
The door burst open with a bang.
"Jesus—"
"The door. We said we'd leave it open."
"I can close it while I'm changing, can't I?"
Song Haneul glared at me with axe-blade eyes for breaking the promise.
"Hey, hey. How is it? Look okay?"
"Not bad… but standing in front of the mirror like that… isn't it kind of weird? That's my body."
I waved a hand at his twisting face.
"Hey, I need to see what I look like right now too. Then you go look at your face."
"Pass. Your sorry mug always looks the same anyway."
"What's wrong with my sorry mug?"
I bristled for no good reason.
I'd always thought I was decent-looking enough, but hearing that knocked my confidence right down.
As if I needed more to worry about—I'd only just become a civilian again, and the short hair was already bothering me.
"Ha. Once the hair's a little longer, it actually looks pretty sharp when I style it."
"Sure it does. But that oversized top—did you pick it on purpose? You pervert."
"No, I just grabbed something big for comfort and it ended up like this, what do you want from me? Then give me my shorts."
"Don't have any."
"Why don't I have any pants—"
"What about your pants. Why."
We were sniping back and forth when Mom poked her head out from behind Song Haneul.
"What are you two talking about so much?"
"…Ah."
"Daughter, you really ought to put on some pants."
"I am wearing them, though?"
I casually lifted the hem of the shirt, and Mom made a strangled sound and froze solid on the spot.