Is That So?

We scrambled awake in a panic and made it out just in time for checkout.

Even though it was cleaning hour and we still hadn’t emerged, the owner’s expression wasn’t exactly friendly. I kept spitting out apologies as I handed back the key.

I’d figured four hours would be more than enough—meals aside—but blacking out in the middle and watching the time vanish without a trace had never been part of the plan. I couldn’t hide how rattled I was.

After grabbing our things in a frenzy and bolting out, I found myself checking whether we’d even managed to put our clothes on properly.

“…I’m going crazy. Seriously.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and let the complaint spill out.

In the scramble I’d snatched up Song Haneul’s clothes and thrown them on, but my body itself was still sticky with sweat—unpleasantly so.

Thank god the clothes were thick. If it had been summer, I didn’t even want to imagine it.

“Ugh, I’m exhausted…?”

“I’m exhausted too.”

“What about washing up?”

“We’ll do it at home.”

Time was already racing toward six-thirty.

It wasn’t so tight that we were truly desperate, but it wasn’t generous enough to dawdle either.

If I could just get my thoughts in order I’d be fine, but the sudden shift in how my body felt left me dizzy.

Wandering like that, both body and mind lost their way. We weren’t even lost, yet my feet refused to move.

Still, when I forced my brain into overdrive, it turned out there wasn’t a complete lack of options.

“Let’s just head home first. Check if Mom’s car is there, and if it isn’t, go in, wash up, and order something to eat.”

We’d been planning to settle for chicken anyway.

So ordering it at home wouldn’t make much difference.

“Yeah, works for me.”

I didn’t know how it would smell to anyone else, but each of us could catch our own scent, so the sticky feeling lingered.

The chill dried the sweat quickly enough, yet that faint trace still nagged at the senses.

If we were unlucky we might run into someone, but there’d be nothing we could do about it then.

Finding somewhere else to wash wasn’t realistic either, so we rolled the dice.

Besides, it wasn’t even seven yet—Mom’s appointment couldn’t possibly be over.

Dinner and coffee would easily push things past nine.

“Phew. Let’s go in.”

“Thank god. Hurry.”

Song Haneul had clearly been holding it in; heavy sighs kept escaping.

The moment we stepped inside, clothes that reeked of sweat went flying off in every direction.

More of it might have soaked into our skin, but just shedding the smell from the fabric made things noticeably better.

“You wash first. I’ll order something.”

“—Oh, okay.”

Song Haneul headed for her own room, then seemed to catch herself and veered into mine instead.

She grabbed clothes and darted into the bathroom.

While water sounds started up inside, the hand tapping at my phone suddenly flinched.

In all the chaos I’d completely forgotten for a second that we could put our bodies back the way they were.

Of all the things to forget—I chewed my lip hard at the thought.

“Hey, Song Haneul!!”

I jabbed the order button in a hurry, then barged into the bathroom.

Song Haneul, hair already wet, twisted around in an awkward crouch to look at me.

“Ah, what?”

“We—we have to switch bodies!”

We already knew the conditions. There was no need to muddle through more than a month like this anymore.

Whether we held each other or stayed joined, it didn’t matter. Standing in front of Mom like this was just too uncomfortable.

The line had been crossed ages ago, so there was nothing left to hesitate over.

If I could just endure it once, I could be at ease while Mom was around.

Familiarity and comfort were two different things, after all.

“I’m not hard right now.”

The words hit like a bolt from the blue.

The same guy who used to freak out every time he got an erection was suddenly reacting with eerie calm.

I’d figured just seeing me in underwear would be enough ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to get him up, but apparently not.

I knew my own body well.

Of ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠course it wouldn’t rise right after finishing.

But remembering how Song Haneul had gone into heat and run wild with my body, I’d thought it would still be possible.

“Why won’t it get hard?”

“You drained everything out of it. This thing’s still kinda sore.”

Just as he said, the flushed length hung limp.

It didn’t even look like it had the strength to twitch.

“Ah, come on. I only did it once, didn’t I?”

Even so, how could it refuse to rise again after just one round?

The doubt had barely formed when Song Haneul gave me an incredulous look.

“You went through a whole box, you know.”

“I don’t remember.”

“Are you stupid?”

“No, I’m serious. After the first time, I don’t remember anything.”

Aside from the lingering ache between my legs, I couldn’t feel a thing.

Well, I was in Song Haneul’s body right now, so of course there’d be nothing but the sensation of being filled.

If I at least had clear memories of doing the filling, I wouldn’t feel so cheated.

Only one out of three times stuck in my head—what kind of nonsense was that?

I wouldn’t have to take responsibility, sure, but no pleasure either? I couldn’t make sense of it.

I hadn’t even gotten proper rest, and now I had to clean up the mess. I was losing my mind.

“Anyway, it’s not getting up, so get out already.”

Song Haneul clicked his tongue and waved a hand dismissively.

Faced with that clear eviction order, my hesitant feet finally decided to hell with it and carried me straight toward him.

“Euk!”

I knew it was shameless, but I just wanted to switch back before Mom came home.

Biting my lip hard, I pulled Song Haneul into a tight hug.

“Ah, wait a second…”

Because I’d stepped under the spray, water poured over my head like rain.

The heavy drops soaked me in an instant; my hair grew heavy at once.

Startled stiff, Song Haneul flailed for a moment, then slowly rested his hands on my shoulders.

“Hey, your bra’s completely soaked.”

“It was already wet. I have to change anyway.”

I was going crazy. Hugging him just to switch bodies.

And if even this didn’t work, we’d ultimately have to stay joined—which meant getting him hard was the homework, and the road ahead looked bleak.

I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to crush the embarrassment.

Even that wasn’t easy; a pained sound slipped out on its own.

Shaaa. Leaning against a body that was subtly firm and warm felt strange.

I knew it was my own body, yet feeling it this way was so unfamiliar it felt alien.

If I just closed my eyes and felt, it was like being held by some other man, and the resistance ran deep.

Still, knowing it was Song Haneul kept the revulsion from getting too strong.

“Not hard…?”

I flicked a glance up and down once.

Beneath Song Haneul’s troubled expression, between his legs, a faint stirring of strength seemed to appear.

I didn’t know if it could get any bigger, but it still looked pretty sore.

What now?

Judging by the state of things, switching today was probably out of the question.

I wanted him hard as soon as possible, but at this pace it might only happen after the chicken arrived.

Whether he knew my insides were burning or not, Song Haneul let out a sigh.

“It’s not hard. I said it’s not. Even if it gets hard, it hurts too much to do anything.”

The words were almost a lament; I lost my own reply.

“Since you’re already here, I’ll wash you quick. Get out after.”

“Uh, yeah…”

We still had to wash before Mom came home, so I nodded.

No matter how used to the body I got, having someone else wash me was still faster, so I simply handed myself over for a moment.

I obediently lowered my head, stretched out, and felt myself growing clean.

My chest got brushed and touched a few times along the way, but Song Haneul never got hard; he just shook the water from his hands when he finished.

I’d done it three times and didn’t remember two of them?

The doubt lingered, yet if that weren’t the case there’d be no reason for Song Haneul to be groaning and unable to get it up.

The same person who’d treated my perfectly fine body like it was in heat was acting like this—that said everything.

I kept wanting to suspect him, but the lack of any other option left me bleak.

In the end, even through the final moment of towel-drying my hair, nothing rose.

I tried to console myself that it couldn’t be helped, yet the regret still clung.

“Nnngh…”

We’d ended up showering together by accident, but I’d gained nothing from it.

Even while drying my hair I kept thinking of Song Haneul finishing his own wash, yet no way forward appeared.

I could see us eating the chicken like this, but how we were supposed to switch our bodies back was the real problem.

“I’m going insane.”

Song Haneul’s room was cluttered with all sorts of random things.

The vanity was packed with perfume and every kind of cosmetic; beside the bed, dolls and little lamps and other small items stood in rows.

Sitting in the middle of that mess, drying my hair and pulling on clothes one by one, didn’t leave me feeling good.

The clothes were comfortable; my heart wasn’t.

Maybe it was the bra cinching my chest so tight.

“Hey, the chicken’s here. Go grab it quick.”

“Ah, okay.”

Just then Song Haneul, finished washing, heard the knock at the door.

I took the delivered chicken, set it on the table, and opened it up.

Watching Song Haneul come out after a lightning-fast towel-dry of his hair, my eyes drifted toward him for no real reason.

“Still not hard?”

“I told you it’s not… And you’re terrible at getting it up.”

“Ah, you said ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even if it got hard we couldn’t do anything anyway.”

“That’s true.”

The same guy who used to get hard just from looking at a body was suddenly claiming he couldn’t—what a mess.

“Tsk. Then try something tomorrow at least.”

“How am I supposed to? You didn’t hear we have plans tomorrow?”

“…Do it in secret or something.”

“‘In secret,’ my ass. You know how sharp Mom’s eyes are.”

I couldn’t argue with Song Haneul’s words.

I already knew; that was exactly why we’d gone out even while Mom was away from the house.

Had I gotten too impatient? I was saying things I never used to say.

Knowing the conditions yet being unable to solve it right away felt frustrating.

Having a solution didn’t mean I could use it whenever I wanted.

More than that, the missing memories still made no sense.

Whether to call it regret or pure ‍‍‌‌⁠⁠‌‍‍‌⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠‌‌‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠awkwardness, it was a complete mess.

“Ah. What do we do.”

“What do you mean what do we do—we just wait for the right moment later.”

“‘Right moment,’ my ass.”

“Then don’t do it.”

“It’s hard acting like you in front of Mom.”

“That’s basically why I get allowance.”