Is This Paranoia?

Dad being home didn't particularly change anything.

All he did was stay in and look at his computer or tablet without going anywhere else, so if you never left your room you barely ran into him even under the same roof. Still, I hadn't expected that simply sharing a house would make me this self-conscious.

I wondered whether we could really fool the eyes of parents we'd lived with our whole lives. They wouldn't imagine our bodies had been swapped — but the anxiety I felt myself was something I couldn't do anything about.

And the biggest problem was this thing that stood up to greet me every morning.

"…Ugh."

You'd think I'd get used to it, but I just couldn't. Once it stood, the urge to relieve it bloomed. If it happened to subside on its own, I felt drained, somehow. That vague sense of emptiness was not a pleasant feeling.

Relieving it felt the best and the most comfortable. The problem was how awkward it was to do that while Dad was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠around.

If I used the onahole, I'd have to go wash it in the bathroom. Was I supposed to carry that thing out not knowing when Dad might appear? Showing a used sex toy to Dad's eyes was mortifying no matter what. Even if he saw me as Song Hamin, I was the one who had to suffer the shame right then and there.

Doing it by hand, the climax shot so far it would dirty the room. Even washing with water, that sticky feeling never quite came off — and the fishy smell on top of how hard it was to clean made it one of the more annoying parts.

"Ah."

Then yesterday's events suddenly came to mind. A good idea occurred to me, but more than one thing held me back from just heading out. We'd agreed to set rules for each other, and keeping them meant I first had to persuade Song Hamin.

We'd been about to write that last one down, but got vague about the time period and never finished it. That was all that remained on the rules paper.

If I did something like that and then claimed I'd follow the rules, would she get mad?

After a brief hesitation, a yes came back.

She took money at the drop of a hat, so it was expensive — but considering I could still drag her out after what I'd done, it wasn't a bad price.

Having Dad around was inconvenient, but I supposed I could say his arrival had somehow shifted the atmosphere. My feelings were complicated. Part of me wanted to work things out properly with Song Hamin, and part of me kept replaying the sensation from before until I thought I'd lose my mind.

What was this if not a beast?

Even I had to admit it was strange. I was in this state the moment I became Song Hamin — which made me wonder how Song Hamin had managed all that time. Whether a sensation like this could dull with familiarity, I had no idea. The fact that I was well past the age of merely being interested in sex left a chill in my gut. Not an age where you might be interested — an age where you couldn't help but be.

Anyway, I'd spent the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠money and gotten a solution, so I might as well change clothes.

Honestly, it was awkward. After something like that, treating each other as usual wasn't easy. Dad's sudden arrival yesterday had forced a change in attitude out of sheer urgency, but that didn't mean I felt any more at ease — which left me in a bind. There was a gap between how I was acting and how I actually felt.

We'd written down the rules, Dad was home, I wanted to get out for a bit, and the offer of money had sealed it, so I'd come along. Dad didn't talk much, but thinking about how Song Haneul normally fussed over him made even his presence feel like something to watch. I didn't know how to put on that kind of coquettish act.

Maybe that was why dads preferred daughters. Sons were taciturn and never started conversations.

"How much are you giving me?"

I was taking what I'd been promised. I was petty enough to want every last won out of spite. If I mentioned that my hips still ached, would he even feel guilty? No — if he were going to feel guilty, he wouldn't have done it while I was too drunk to resist. He could at least have said he wanted it like a normal person. Not that I would have said yes.

"I was thinking around fifty thousand."

"Fine."

Well, for stepping out briefly, that was decent. I'd bought a game a while back and barely touched it, so this helped make up for the waste. I was starting to understand why women didn't game much. Either the physical demands didn't suit them or they ran out of people to play with, interest faded, and eventually they walled the whole thing off. Even with people to play with, the skill levels had to match. And it wasn't as if anyone had signed up knowing I'd be dead weight — suddenly becoming Song Haneul and showing them a wrecked performance made the whole hobby feel off.

Games and drinking. Those had been my only real pastimes, nothing special, and now that I couldn't do either, life felt hollow in a way I couldn't place. Song Haneul had my body and still had portfolios and scripts to write on the computer, so he never looked bored — while I spent every day watching videos, which was almost funny.

"So why'd you want to come out?"

"Just… Dad's home and all."

"Ah."

I'd been feeling much the same, so I nodded.

"I'm sorry about the other day. Or was it yesterday."

Song Haneul threw out an apology without warning. It had been night, so whether it counted as yesterday or the day before didn't quite land. By the clock it was yesterday; factoring in sleep, it felt like the day before.

"If you were sorry, you shouldn't have done it."

I'd gotten sensitive and snapped at him before, but now I couldn't even properly get angry. We were outside, too — bringing that up out here was ridiculous. Grumbling was about the most I could manage.

"But how did you stand it? I feel like I'm getting weirder by the day."

"You just let it pass like it's nothing."

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"That's possible?"

"Why wouldn't it be? You go to the military and you manage just fine without."

Thinking about it now, it was pretty unfair. I'd already finished my service — and here I was, stuck in a woman's position, fretting about pregnancy.

"It's hell. Waiting around every morning unable to do anything, and if you just leave it you get this hollow feeling…"

"Keep talking about it first thing in the morning and you'll wear my bones down."

"I'm in a bind too, okay? Aren't you the one who has it easy? Yours barely shows up. It should be coming around the end of this week."

"Easy, my ass…"

I was freshly reminded that breasts this big were only nice to look at. Starting with the bra I had to wear for fear the weight would make them sag, simply existing in this body was a catalog of grievances. Even at home, never going anywhere, I still had to endure the discomfort. Even after buying a comfortable size, the tight cinch remained. The snug grip of underwear top and bottom never quite felt easy. Whether he'd bought that fabric on purpose, I didn't know.

Song Haneul walked a little farther and stepped into a convenience store like it was the most natural thing in the world. I watched with wary eyes, half-afraid he was about to buy more alcohol. We already had plenty — finishing what we had would wreck my stomach a dozen times over. Add the worry over what else he might pull, and I couldn't relax for a second. Why do that kind of thing and then make it impossible for a person to sleep in peace.

Contrary to my fears, Song Haneul started picking up snacks. He grabbed a couple, then brought over a whole basket and started loading it. Drinks too — he was clearly filling it with nothing but junk food. Carbonated sodas, piles of chips, even the desserts from the cold case.

"You grab something too. My treat."

Huh. He'd already handed over fifty thousand and he was treating me on top of that?

"You covering Häagen-Dazs too?"

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"…Fine."

So he did feel at least a little bad. He'd even allow that. In that case, I might as well take what was offered. One big tub should do it. I'd been about to pick two and held back, so I'd call that enough.

"This one."

"Don't people usually pick the small one?"

"I never said small."

"Haa. Fine. Put it up."

He grimaced at the size of it but gave in almost immediately and waved me on. A beep, and it was added to the receipt.

"Bags are fifty won. Do you need one?"

"Yes, one please."

The clerk rustled about, bagging the mountain of snacks piled on the counter. Between my ice cream and everything else, the total hit seventy thousand in no time — though it had already been substantial before that, which made me wonder why he was buying this many snacks in the first place. My tongue had never been that fond of sweet things…

"…Hey."

The clerk's discreet hand movement made my face go stiff. The item was already inside the plastic bag, and Song Haneul casually averted his gaze.

"I'm not doing it."

If I didn't put my foot down right now, I was sure he'd try something again. I drove the nail in, and Song Haneul fidgeted, looking awkward himself.

"Ah, I know."

"You sure you know?"

"I said I know. Ah — thank you. I'll take that."

Right. For a second my mind went completely blank and I'd forgotten the clerk was standing right there. I'd been carefully avoiding that topic outside, and all that effort had gone up in smoke the moment we walked in. Why had I done that? Self-reproach mixed with worry. And on top of everything, the fact that he'd bought two whole containers of the stuff made it impossible not to be concerned.

Even as we left the convenience store I couldn't trust him, so I stared hard at the back of Song Haneul's head. The moment he whipped around I lost my words, but panicking was one thing — I hadn't done anything wrong, so I narrowed my eyes at him all over again.

"If you know, why the hell did you buy that? You should've gotten a refund."

I was worried he'd keep it around and use it the second he saw an opening.

"I bought it to use alone. For easier cleanup. Dad said he'd be around for about a week, right?"

"Well, yeah."

Had he really bought it for that?

"Then use it all up while Dad's here."

In that case, fine. He wouldn't jump me or pull anything while Dad was around.

"Got it."

Song Haneul tossed the words out and headed back toward home. My steps felt as heavy as the bulging bag. Something about this felt off — but no, surely not.

I was starting to develop something like paranoia. Was this paranoia? Was that even the right word for it?

I honestly didn't know.