The Sensation of That Time
The group chat with my friends stayed lively enough, but joining conversations about drinking or games felt too awkward, so I muted the notifications and stopped participating altogether.
I still answered whenever someone asked if I was dead, but the real problem was that after that, I never had anything left to say.
Going out felt repulsive. Meeting anyone was hard. Even gaming had become impossible with this body, and now I had no idea how I was supposed to kill time.
Everything I used to enjoy was something I could never do in Song Haneul's body anyway. Nothing would have worked no matter what I tried.
No drinking, no games—naturally I turned into a morning person. The wake-up time drilled into me in the military refused to break, so it stuck. The exhaustion remained the same, though, and I just wanted to drag my feet. With nothing to do, I couldn't even feel a reason to get up.
I hadn't set an alarm, yet the phone vibrated. A low buzzing from the pillow made me groan.
"What the hell this early…"
I swallowed a yawn and fumbled for it. My left eye stayed shut under the pillow's weight; I read the messages slowly with only the right.
Ah. I don't.
Moving was a pain. Should I just tell her to come over?
The answer had been decided from the start. No matter what I said, she probably planned to come anyway. Knowing I couldn't stop her even if she threw a full tantrum made my head throb.
I flipped the phone face-down and shut my eyes again. With breasts this size, even lying on my stomach was impossible; every position felt half-assed. The only time I could bury my face properly was when I slammed my head onto a table. That said everything.
"Hey. Hey."
"Where's Dad?"
"Dad left somewhere real early this morning?"
"…I didn't hear anything."
Still half-asleep, maybe. I'd managed to wake up in the morning, at least. Eight o'clock wasn't that late. How early did she sleep and wake up to catch the sound of Dad leaving?
"More importantly. I didn't get morning wood today. That's not a problem, right?"
"You go at it every single day. If that thing stood up every morning you'd be a freak."
Talking while clawing my way out of a half-dream—so this was what it felt like. I wanted to swear, yet somehow my mouth stayed shut. I swallowed hard.
I'd been drunk and foggy last time, but even clear-headed like this I doubted I could overpower those arms if she decided to pin me down.
"So normally people just hold it in?"
"Yeah, they hold it."
"For how many days?"
"As long as they can. It's not like there's a set number of days."
I grumbled the answer back, figuring she'd get the hint and leave on her own.
"Feels like something's missing, though. Got it."
I'd tensed up thinking this was a continuation of yesterday's talk, but Song Haneul turned and left on her own. Apparently she planned to try holding out like I'd told her these past few days. That was a relief.
I let out a long breath and hugged the pillow tight.
"What the hell am I even…"
I'd spoken casually enough, but my heart was hammering like crazy. On top of that, Dad being out made the sense of danger flood my whole body. Self-loathing rushed in and left me even more unsettled. I wiped my dry lips with the back of my hand, then surrendered to the fatigue rolling back in. I kept taking deep breaths until the trembling in my lungs finally settled.
People say you can never really know what someone else is thinking, but I always figured you could guess pretty well. Song Haneul, though—I still couldn't understand what went through her head.
Before the swap we'd just been ordinary family. Afterward everything went to hell. From that point on I couldn't make sense of anything. How a person could change that much was beyond me.
Not long ago she'd only been tentatively touching herself. Was male libido always this strong? I'd heard women usually had the stronger drive, yet I was the one who felt nothing at all. Meanwhile Song Haneul rampaged like any female body would do, not even sparing her own original body. Did looking at herself still turn her on?
I couldn't believe the average guy's sex drive was that intense. If we simply couldn't handle each other's opposite-sex urges, why was I fine? Whatever the reason, the present situation was clearly dangerous.
I had no idea how this happened, but once our bodies returned to normal things would improve. I just had to endure until then.
"How much longer…"
Time simply drifted past. We lived under the same roof yet stayed locked in our own rooms, only seeing each other at meals. Dad spent all day glued to his computer or tablet, so there was nothing else to worry about. I wasn't the warm type who'd stroll into the master bedroom just to chat with him while he worked.
The cycle should have been approaching, yet there was no sign like before, and Dad's departure date arrived first. Mid-October already. Autumn had barely announced itself before the weather turned sharp and cold overnight.
Dad rolled a suitcase into the living room.
"Packing?"
"Yeah, all done."
"You're leaving tomorrow, right?"
"No, tonight."
"Huh? A day early?"
I'd thought he was staying one more night. Apparently not. Or maybe one day early was just enough time to settle in and rest.
"Gotta check out the area around the place I'm staying, figure out the roads."
He had no obligation to spell everything out, but a small sense of betrayal still hit. I'd spent a whole week waiting for our bodies to switch back, only for Dad to leave first. At this rate maybe I should start praying for Mom to return from Singapore.
"Oh, what? Dad's leaving?"
"He said tonight."
"I thought he was staying one more day."
"You two stick so close you've started swapping places."
Dad gave a short laugh. He'd meant it as a joke, but maybe he'd unconsciously picked up on the subtle differences. Counting the years he'd been away in the military, the change must have felt sudden. A chill ran down my spine, yet since the remark hadn't come from suspicion, nothing more came of it.
We ate lunch together. He left just before dinner.
"He's gone."
When you live like a NEET, time slips by in a blink. All my earlier fretting about Dad being home had been pointless; nothing happened. Looking at the closed front door left me with a complicated feeling.
"Hey."
"What."
"Isn't it about that time?"
"…No signals so far."
It had never been just one day to begin with. Last month it started and then ended after only half a day. With constant stress piled on top, it simply wasn't coming. I'd thought it was an automatic monthly event, but it swung with the body's condition. Since there was nothing to gain from it, the absence wasn't entirely bad. Song Haneul reacted so calmly that a delayed or missing cycle didn't seem worth making a fuss over either.
"It's the third week. Should we start drinking soon?"
"Do we really have to?"
"Don't you want to switch back? You never know."
We'd already drunk not long ago, so this would be pretty frequent. Honestly, if a whole month of drinking on and off still produced no result, maybe the food from that day hadn't been the problem at all.
"If we keep eating it for a month and nothing happens, let's just stop after that."
"Why?"
"What do you mean why? A month is the normal cycle. If even that does nothing, then neither the cycle nor the food matters. Isn't that obvious?"
When that time came, all we'd be able to do was wait. Looking back, I should have written down everything we'd done from the morning of that day. Now that we'd reached this point, I had no answers left—only prayer.
Drinking never felt good. Partly because this body rejected alcohol, but mostly because I worried Song Haneul would jump me again the moment I passed out. Yet if I refused to touch it at all, I felt like I had to keep testing until next week. Every choice left me equally stuck.
"So until next week, then. Got it."
Song Haneul answered like it was nothing, but my guard never dropped. The biggest fear was that even drinking would turn out useless. No matter how many times I said it, the thought that words wouldn't stop her refused to leave my head. If she decided she wanted something, I would simply have to take it—that was the miserable part. At this rate I half-wondered whether I should just move out.
"Counting today, that's twice."
"Then once we finish what we already bought, we're done. I end up drinking more than I expected."
"You handling the alcohol okay?"
"I never noticed in my own body, but there's a fun to drinking. That fuzzy feeling feels nice…"
There was nothing I could do. Better to keep her from even wanting it than to push back and spark defiance. Recalling how much I'd drunk last time, I planned to stay just short of drunk and maintain some control over my condition. That was my goal this round.
The next day. When I finally came to, it was already heading toward two in the afternoon. I couldn't remember how much I'd drunk or what had happened.
I sat blankly on the bed staring at the ceiling. The sheets hadn't been changed, yet a strange discomfort pulsed in my lower belly. Something had definitely happened, but without proof my head throbbed. My nose stung; tears welled up. I laid a trembling hand on my stomach and felt it hum. Without thinking I stroked it, then staggered to my feet.
My joints creaked and popped—exactly the same sensation as that time.
I dug through the trash can in Song Haneul's room. Nothing. I dropped to my knees in front of the living-room bin and raked my hand through it until I felt it. I'd reached in already certain, yet actually closing my fingers around it felt wrong.
"Mm…"
The corner of my mouth twitched. It wasn't my body, but this sensation was the absolute worst.