Looking Forward in My Own Way
Even when I drink, I never go so far that I black out completely. Before that happens, my wallet usually runs dry, so I’m quick to get up and leave the bar.
That’s why I don’t even know what my own drunk behavior is like.
In fact, that’s just about the right amount. If I were the type who never got drunk at all, the cost-performance would be terrible, but if I can feel the buzz without going overboard, nothing could be better. Thinking of the friends around me who can’t hold their liquor, I pride myself on being relatively strong.
Not anymore.
Now that I’ve become “Song Haneul,” even low-alcohol Fruit Soju gets me buzzed in no time. Not just buzzed—it hits me hard and knocks me out completely, which is a real problem. It’s gone beyond simply enjoying the tipsiness; it’s downright miserable. Once I pass half a bottle, I start getting fuzzy, and before I know it the film cuts out with no way to stop it.
Does getting drunk turn me into a yes-man?
I said I liked it? That it felt good?
If I really said that, then whose drunk behavior is it? The one getting drunk is Song Haneul’s body, but can I even say the drunk antics are Song Haneul’s too?
Thinking that made my head spin. It’s hard to definitively say there’s no such thing as a drunk that ramps up the sex drive, so I can’t judge easily. I feel self-loathing over the fact that because of that drunk behavior, we crossed the line as family and mixed our bodies.
I’m going crazy, seriously. How did it come to this? From what I heard, it almost sounds like I was the one who suggested it, which is just stupid. As long as I hold onto my reason, something like that would never happen. The moment I let go, I’m no different from a beast, so my hand goes to my temple automatically.
“‘Maybe’ my ass. If you really want our cycles to overlap like you said, then until then I’m just not drinking.”
“Why? You’ve got to drink regularly if you want any chance at all. Better than not doing it at all, right?”
“You asking because you don’t know? Drunk or not, we shouldn’t be doing shit like this. That’s why.”
I took a deep breath and organized my words.
“I’m not blaming anyone. I’m just saying… a situation like this never should have happened in the first place. Don’t take it the wrong way.”
“…Well, I guess that’s fair.”
“I’d appreciate it if you understood. Honestly, you can’t feel good about it either. Unlike just blowing off steam, this is ultimately your body.”
“Yeah.”
Song Haneul’s expression shifted slightly. Looking at her stiffening face, it was clear she wasn’t happy about it either. I’d thought I was the only one who’d woken up to a bolt from the blue, but once Song Haneul thought it through carefully, she seemed to realize just how serious the situation was.
I was the one who’d been violated, but in the end it was Song Haneul’s body. She was the one who’d done the violating, but that body was mine. That fact alone was enough to deliver the shock. If our bodies ever returned to normal, the one who’d violated and the one who’d been violated would simply switch places. The contents might stay the same, but the bodies themselves wouldn’t change back with them.
“Yeah, I was being an idiot.”
Song Haneul clicked her tongue once and scratched her head. Getting back to normal was important right now, but not crossing the line was even more important. I’d acted under the assumption that we wouldn’t cross it in the first place.
“Those rules we used before—let’s add to them.”
“…Add what? Those should be enough.”
“We only drink once a month. Timed to the cycle. That should be plenty, right?”
“So that means we only get twelve chances a year to switch back?”
“There’s no answer no matter what we do anyway.”
“But you need to know this.”
Song Haneul planted a finger on the table like she was laying down the law.
“How much time do you have left before you re-enroll? It’s September now—October’s right around the corner.”
“Ah.”
“So you said you’re not drinking now and aiming for next month… at the earliest, four or five months. You really confident you can switch back in four or five tries? What if you can’t?”
Damn it. I’d thought living like a freeloader was fine, but I’d completely forgotten for a second. It wasn’t that I had no intention of re-enrolling, but trying to factor that in under these circumstances made my head hurt. My thinking had been shortsighted, so I had to rethink it.
“—Twice a month. How about that.”
“Twice? When and when.”
“Once before and once after.”
“Then isn’t the ‘after’ already over?”
“Who knows. You know you can’t just think of a normal cycle with that body, right?”
“…I don’t know, fuck. How have you even been living?”
“I haven’t just been goofing off, you know.”
I was so dumbfounded I swore, but Song Haneul seemed to have plenty to say herself and snapped back irritably.
“You stay up all night writing, then get lost in thought trying to spark inspiration, and before you know it bedtime gets pushed back, and then you’re pulling all-nighters. Don’t you do the same thing? One more game, another half hour, another hour—that’s basic, right?”
“Well, yeah, but…”
Thinking of it as job prep left me with nothing to say. If she was staying up all night for career prep, adding anything else on top of that would just make me the idiot.
“I get it. Then tell me your exact cycle.”
“……”
“Hey, I need to know too!”
When I snapped that out, a sigh came back.
“Usually about three weeks.”
“Isn’t it a month?”
“Sometimes it’s a month.”
“It jumps around?”
“Yeah, well. Bodies don’t run like machines every day.”
She didn’t even know her own body properly. Or was that just how it was? I didn’t know either. I’d seen online that it varies with health, so whatever. The times I’d felt like I was about to be sick for days had ended in a single day, so I’d just think of that as better.
“My head hurts.”
“Then we drink when it’s about to start hurting, and drink again once it’s over. Something like that. You tell me.”
“When you put it that way, I think I get it.”
Being able to sense it instinctively was better than just calculating dates. The problem was that we were already sliding into the end of September. If I was going to re-enroll, I needed my body back soon, and that was a real headache. Now that things had come this far, should I just grit my teeth and chug the booze or what? In this purely awkward situation I bit my lip and tapped the table.
“Let’s do that.”
I stirred my complicated thoughts and decided to wrap the matter up like this.
“…I’ve got money now, but nowhere to spend it.”
There was the military savings, and the money Song Haneul had given me. The savings I could think of as nonexistent if I planned to roll them into another account, but the money from Song Haneul felt like pocket money. Even if it was money I’d received after doing that, it was enough to go out and meet friends.
The problem was that I couldn’t meet friends looking like this. No—that wasn’t the only problem. Even when friends called me to game, I had to turn them down, and I couldn’t join voice chat either. Hammering away at the keyboard in the group chat while having to reject every single invitation was burdensome in its own way. All sorts of worries came flying—Are you sick? Did something happen?—but I couldn’t tell them. Not hanging out or meeting a few times wouldn’t wreck a friendship, but it still nagged at me, so I really wanted to resolve it somehow.
A few rounds of drinking didn’t seem like it would fix anything. The food we’d eaten that day—booze and pizza—probably wasn’t the issue to begin with. If the cycle was the problem, maybe, but if it wasn’t, I had no idea what the answer even was anymore. Considering we’d already mixed our bodies and still hadn’t switched back, it didn’t seem like we’d done something extra that night either.
“What the hell is it even…”
“Hey, Song Hamin!”
A sudden bellow calling my name came from the far room.
“What!”
“Let’s go outside for a bit.”
She came rushing out and looked at me with a deadly serious expression.
“What’s the problem…?”
A little cowed by that intensity, I tilted my head and asked. Song Haneul flapped the clothes she was wearing like it was a truly grave issue.
“You’ve got fucking nothing to wear.”
“…What?”
“You have no clothes left to wear. Short sleeves I’ve just been throwing on as pajamas, but fall clothes? Completely wiped out. It’s pathetic.”
“Just wear short sleeves and throw a puffer on when it gets cold.”
“Who the hell dresses like that. How does a person not even have fall clothes?”
She spoke like it was absurd, but I felt wronged.
“…I’ve been living just fine that way.”
“Well, I can’t. I bought you underwear last time, so this time you buy the clothes.”
“I don’t have money, you bastard.”
“You blew through everything you earned in the military?”
“Hey, hey. How much do you think that even is that you’re already planning to bleed it dry?”
I didn’t particularly want to advertise the existence of my military savings. Even if I did, I didn’t think anything good would come of it. It was the little money I’d barely scraped together, and the thought of sinking even that into clothes I didn’t think I needed made my stomach twist.
“I’ll give you the money you gave me.”
I pulled the 150,000 won I’d received earlier out of my wallet and held it out casually. Once the bodies switched back it would be mine anyway, so I figured I could spare this much. Song Haneul had already burned through tens of thousands on underwear for me while saying it was still her body—could I really not invest this much?
“Two outfits and we’re done, right?”
“…Two? How expensive are you trying to buy? Three should be plenty.”
“You know how much clothes cost these days? The expensive ones go over a hundred thousand easy.”
“You buying at a department store? Just order something decent online. No need for fancy brands.”
“That’s why you look like that.”
“What’s wrong with how I look.”
I bristled for a second, but Song Haneul brushed it off like it was nothing.
“You really have zero money? Give me some. I’m broke from buying those underwear, so if you give me money I’ll coordinate outfits that actually fit you.”
“That’s just what you want to do.”
“Just give me double.”
Three hundred thousand? Straight-up gangster. Even as I thought that, the image of her flipping her hair before came back and I hesitated for a moment. I’d thought she looked fine just as she was, but dressing up definitely changed the impression. What would it feel like if the clothes were put together well too? I got the sense that I hadn’t really taken care of myself either—maybe I should just take the L once and go along with it. Once we bought them, they’d all be my clothes anyway.
“You buy me any trash and you’re dead.”
“Just trust this big sis.”
“Big sis my ass.”
“Ugh, picky little shit.”
“Just go change already.”
The unexpected expense made my stomach ache. And yet, there was a part of me that was looking forward to it, in my own way.