It's Hot
Ever since the body swap—if that's the right way to put it—seeing each other naked had stopped feeling like anything special. Being seen naked, too.
I still preferred to keep myself covered, but Song Haneul would force the issue, insisting it was his own body anyway.
At least by this point he no longer demanded to watch me bathe with his own two eyes, which counted as a small mercy amid all the rest.
If there was one real problem, it was that the physical contact had gotten a lot more frequent lately.
I thought I was acting the same as always, but the reactions coming back were different. Things that used to earn me a look of contempt or a single curse before he walked off now made him try to hit me, or grab hold of me and tickle me until I was a wreck—again and again.
Because of that alone, I was growing more and more reluctant to behave the way I normally would. What I'd meant as casual jokes tossed out without a second thought now made me pause and think twice before speaking. Otherwise there was no telling when or how he might come flying at me and start touching me all over.
Even if it was his own body, didn't he realize I was the one inside it?
"Hey, Song Hamin. What are you thinking so hard about?"
"Huh? Oh—uh. What?"
"I've been calling you this whole time and you haven't said a word."
He fixed me with a sharp glare, and all I could manage was an awkward smile.
"Sorry. I was just lost in thought for a second. So what is it?"
"Let's drink tonight."
"The date's still a ways off, isn't it?"
A few more days had passed, but there still wasn't any sign that that day was coming. We'd talked about trying it before and after, and now he wanted to break that agreement—which left me in an awkward spot too.
"It's just that if you keep living in that body, I figure you'll stop getting it soon enough."
"…What? It can just stop?"
"Is that really so surprising? It can get lighter, so of course it can stop completely too."
"Then what do we do? Don't we need to go to a hospital?"
"You can get it back if you keep up a healthy lifestyle, but that only happens once I land a job and get my routine going again."
What was I even looking at here? He was living the perfect life of an unemployed freeloader's routine—was there even room left for it to get any worse?
Learning that periods could simply stop had been a shock, but I fell quiet for a moment, thinking.
"It's October now…"
"Early October. What, you want to wait until next week?"
October had already arrived. The month when the heat finally faded and a coolness settled in.
It had been nearly two weeks since the swap, and the whole situation still felt hopelessly uncertain. Two weeks. That was a decent enough cycle, at least. Fourteen days lined up neatly with the half-month mark.
"Don't tell me it's based on a half-month cycle?"
There was nowhere to go for advice on something this bizarre. Tracking down anyone who might know was impossible, so every weird theory I could invent came spilling out. Whether it was a menstrual cycle or a half-month cycle or whatever else—if I could just guess right and hit the answer, that was all I wanted.
Drinking was miserable, hard to handle, and could lead to strange things happening, but if it meant we could switch back, I could put up with that misery for a little while.
"Hell if I know. If you've got any hunch at all, let's try it."
"…So is the menu the same as last time?"
"Um, no? Just in case, I was thinking of buying a bunch of different kinds."
Even Song Haneul, for all the chaos he'd caused in my body, seemed to want to go back just as badly as I did.
What had happened between us had been mutual, so I'd decided there was nothing to be done about it. And once we switched back, we'd forget even that and return to our original lives.
Still, there was one problem.
"Even if you buy that much, I can't drink it all. I pass out after half a bottle of fruit soju—different kinds? You trying to kill my liver?"
"Then we split it over a day or two."
"Even then, one bottle max. Two if I'm drinking myself to death."
"Then we buy it first and just keep drinking it over time."
That kind of defeated the point of buying different kinds. If the timing was the issue, missing the window after one or two bottles would be the end of it.
And there was one thing we had to be most careful about.
"And no matter what happens, don't touch anything."
"Touch what?"
Was he pretending not to know, or did he genuinely not get it?
"We're family, after all. I get it—curiosity's running high, the libido's there. Use an onahole if you want, or don't. I'll even look the other way if you jerk off every morning."
"You saw that?"
"Does that matter? Anyway, I don't want anything happening between us like before."
If I just said it straight, he'd understand. If siblings did something like that, the whole family would fall apart. And it wasn't just that—there was no telling how it would wreck things between the two of us.
Was there any need to send our lives straight to hell in one shot? Maybe if we never planned on living normal lives again, but that wasn't the case.
"Got it."
Song Haneul nodded.
"Then we're clear on that."
Well, if I couldn't even trust this much, there was no point starting at all. I'd said it clearly, so now there was nothing left to fear. No waking up to the horrifying sensation of semen running down between my legs. I had no choice but to believe that.
We went to the convenience store together and bought whatever looked drinkable. Mostly the low-alcohol stuff. On top of that, I piled in everything that might help me stay as sober as possible. Starting with stomach-protecting medicine, then banana milk, pear juice—I bought it all, steeling my resolve.
If I so much as said one weird thing to Song Haneul, who was openly being led around by his dick, there was no telling what might happen that day. So the key was for me to stay conscious.
"Alright. Here we go."
"Look at you, all solemn."
"Pour me just a little, seriously. I'm pacing myself."
"You're really putting in the effort."
"I'm trying to make it last."
We sat across the table from each other and poured the drinks. Just a shallow layer at the bottom of a paper cup. The moment I knocked it back, I chased it with half a cup of water. If you were a lightweight, diluting it with water entirely was a valid strategy—so I filled my stomach to the brim.
"You take that tiny sip and then dump all that water in. You're gonna be full in no time."
"Can't help it."
"Last time you managed half a bottle. This time you won't even get that far."
"Ugh."
I'd been so focused on not getting drunk that I'd completely miscalculated my stomach capacity. Just like he said, I was going to be too full to finish even half a bottle.
Missing the window on the two-week mark after finally getting a shot at it would be too frustrating. If it was based on a half-month cycle instead of fourteen days, that would be better—but I still couldn't shake the "what if." Once you started assigning meaning to something, every number you stuck on a timeframe started looking plausible.
"Give it here."
I stretched out my arm and took the drink. With all the other stuff already in my stomach, I should be able to handle a little more alcohol. I could only hope so.
Gulp. Sweetness sliding down my throat. The distinctive fragrance of fruit soju, mixed with that subtle hint of alcohol. Honestly, it was unpleasant. Maybe because I was starting to notice the smell more the longer I drank.
This body just didn't match my lifestyle in too many ways. Couldn't handle bitter things, was terrible with alcohol, and only craved sweets—and it had no muscle to speak of. The swaying breasts were nothing but a nuisance, and my arms, legs, and waist were so thin I couldn't put any real strength into them.
"Hnnngh…!"
The alcohol hit me hard. My head spun, my face burned hot. I felt the heat rising and clenched my teeth, trying to hold on somehow. I expelled every bit of breath from my lungs like a steam engine blowing off pressure. I crossed my legs on the chair and took deep breaths over and over, but the tightness in my chest wouldn't ease.
Whether from overeating or not, my stomach felt queasy, and my heavy head kept trying to sink down toward the table. I propped myself up with my arms, but I already knew that wouldn't last long either.
"If it's too much, just stop drinking."
"I'm fine, I can—uh."
Even words that usually came out clear and crisp were hard to form properly. My speech was trailing off on its own, even though I hadn't meant it to, and there was nothing I could do to fix it. Was this what they meant by force majeure?
"Hweh, I mean…"
Damn it. I'd drunk too much. I tried to clear my head, but the dizziness made it nearly impossible. I clamped a hand over my mouth and tried to focus my eyes, but my wavering vision showed no sign of settling.
Ugh. My stomach felt awful. I was going to throw up. Drinking made you forget your own limits—that was how it felt. If I'd just had pizza with the alcohol, I might have stopped after two slices and kept things under control. Instead I'd chugged water and gulped down milk and juice at random, and now my insides were a complete mess.
This was driving me crazy. Song Haneul's body was pure garbage. No maintenance at all, either. Every time I exhaled that hot breath, I could feel my throat warming. Closing my eyes made the pressure inside them build, a low thrumming, and part of me just wanted to shut them and fall asleep right there.
Figuring that sleeping was better than losing consciousness entirely, I slowly got to my feet.
"Before my stomach… gets wrecked… I'm gonna sleep."
It was hot. I needed to go to Song Haneul's room and lie down. Even though it was October, it felt like I was going to need the air conditioner. A fan would be enough, though, so on the way to the bed I pressed the buttons over and over. The strongest setting blowing on me made the queasiness ease a little.
"Hnn, nngh."
I'd always thought the bed was narrow, but right now it was the perfect size for lying down. There really was such a thing as a size that fit your body. Even as I gently closed my eyes, I kept confirming over and over that I was lying down properly. Maybe it was the anxiety. The guilt over what we'd done as siblings. That was why my head was spinning, too.
I tried to hold on to my fading consciousness, but it was too exhausting, and I let go. On the bed, there was no reason left to keep clinging.
…Ah. It's hot.