If You Did It
Friends kept messaging me about gaming or going out for drinks.
Most of them were unemployed until they went back to school, so maybe that was why—if they didn't do at least this much, they got restless.
Then again, without any particular hobbies, drinking and gaming were pretty much all there was.
Parties formed often enough, but not everyone always joined in. Games maxed out at about five people, so the same lineup never showed up every time.
Of course, there was always that one terrifying guy who appeared every single day.
Did that guy live in front of his computer?
I wondered—though I'd probably have been the same if nothing had gone wrong with me.
Anyway, in this state I couldn't do anything. It should have switched back yesterday.
"Ugh."
It had already been four days since the body swap. Yesterday had been the most likely day, but it never switched, and now I was stuck like this.
We hadn't even drunk at the place we'd rented, so if it switched without alcohol, then alcohol wasn't the issue—but I still had no idea what was. I didn't even know if Song Haneul really understood it.
Before, she'd kept forcing drinks down my throat saying we needed alcohol, then this time it flipped without any of that. Either she knew but only half-knew, or there was something else within the conditions we already understood.
"My arm hurts…"
There was definitely something. But right now I didn't have room to think about anything else. Song Haneul had gripped me so hard from behind that my arm was left with a deep muscle ache. My wrist still bore the red marks where she'd held me—like bruises that wouldn't fade.
Bruise marks were unavoidable. Massaging the muscle ache might help a little, but long-term, resting was best. It was absurd that the dull ache was still there even after sleeping, though.
I was lying in bed, phone too heavy to lift, when Song Haneul came looking for me—curious, maybe.
"What are you doing?"
"…Why? What did you come for."
"Just checking if you're okay."
"You could've texted."
"I was on my way to the fridge."
I lifted my head a little. No particular expression, but it felt like the timing for something that needed saying. I didn't know. If she thought she knew the conditions but actually wasn't sure herself, it'd be embarrassing. Maybe it was hard to say anything.
A resigned kind of understanding bloomed in me. Figures. I set aside the hope I'd foolishly held onto for a moment. Feeling like an idiot for getting swept up by Song Haneul's claim that she knew the conditions. We were back to the moment where nobody knew the conditions, and it felt hopeless.
"Where's Mom?"
"Mom? Just in her room. Sounds like she's on the phone with someone."
"Ah, okay."
"Are you hurting somewhere?"
"…Because of you."
I glared, but Song Haneul just shrugged shamelessly. I had no idea what made her so brazen.
"Ah, right."
Only then did she react, looking at my wrist like she genuinely hadn't noticed. Even clenching a fist hurt, and I let out a groan. I tried to ignore her and stay still, but she kept hovering by the door.
Eventually I got up and stared straight at Song Haneul. There was also the anxious thought that Mom might finish her call and wander over this way for no reason. Of course, talking like this wouldn't look strange. But suspicion was like a wildfire. I didn't want to plant any unease in a situation that was already a bit iffy. From then on, she'd start attaching meaning to every little action.
"If you don't have business, go to the fridge."
"There's yogurt. Want some? Yogurt might settle your stomach a bit."
"What's wrong with my stomach."
"Just—it's my body, so I know."
I was the type who skipped breakfast, but Song Haneul had always eaten regularly. Hearing that, I did feel a bit hungry.
"But I'm originally the type who doesn't eat breakfast."
"I'm the eating type. Ah, wait—originally the non-eating type, but I ate, so maybe I was a bit full?"
"Stop eating."
If she kept stuffing food into my body, all the muscle I'd built up in the military would melt away. It had already gone soft into flabby fat without any habits or routines. Still, I didn't want to give up entirely.
"Ah, eating breakfast is good for your health."
Not that she seemed likely to listen to me. I knew from the start. Song Haneul had always been the reckless type.
"November…"
It had only been so long since November started, and already time was heading toward mid-month. Not much left until the re-enrollment application. Factoring in moving out for independent living, I had to prepare for a very busy January.
There was no real homework to do in advance, but I started getting a little tense two months out. From having to use my rusted brain to compete with current students, to worrying whether I could even put together a decent schedule. I was a sophomore now, so I didn't even hope much for free periods. If I could manage it, great. I decided not to cling too hard.
But before all these plans and worries, there was something I had to do.
"…I need to switch us back."
How? When, where? It hadn't been that long yet. Still, I was exhausted. I was more worn out than when I'd spent a month in Song Haneul's body—probably because Mom was here. Not just my imagination. Really.
"Haneul."
"Uh, y-yes?"
I'd been lying on the bed staring blankly at the ceiling. The knock at the door startled me out of my daze. My heart pounded at Mom's voice through the door. I hadn't committed any crime, yet my eyes darted around like a guilty person's.
"What are you doing?"
"I-I'm just lying down."
I scrambled up and carefully opened the door. Mom's face appeared—she knocked but never just opened it. No Song Haneul behind her or anything. Seemed like she was in her room. My phone vibrated a couple times behind me, then stopped. Maybe she figured out I couldn't reply because I was with Mom. Then it must have been a text from Song Haneul.
"Why…?"
"Can I come in?"
"Y-yes."
Strictly speaking it wasn't my room, but I couldn't say no, so I let her in. There was a living room, so wanting to come into the room specifically meant she wanted to talk one-on-one without Song Haneul—no, without "Song Hamin"—knowing.
"It's nothing much, but Mom just doesn't get the sense that you're preparing for anything seriously at home. It's been a few days since I got back—is the house not a good environment for concentrating? Or is there some other reason? If it's hard, I'm also positively thinking about looking into other career paths. What do you think? What does my daughter think?"
The sudden barrage of questions blanked my mind white. Career worries? Future counseling? Whatever it was, I was hearing a conversation Song Haneul should be having, and it was awkward. A conversation that should happen after we switched bodies back properly had jumped out, and I froze for a moment.
Should I put the talk off and tell Song Haneul later? Even if I did, Song Haneul didn't properly know the conditions either, so we couldn't switch right away, could we? All sorts of thoughts raced through, but the conversation had already started. Even if I wanted to delay it, I couldn't think of how. My mouth went bone-dry.
"Well, I'm still preparing… it's just, I haven't found certainty yet, I guess."
Mom wasn't only looking for success—she was trying to understand the situation. I was truly grateful, but right now I didn't even have room to feel moved. I'd never wandered or floundered in the first place. I'd just taken leave from school, gone to the military, and come back. That was all.
Saying school wasn't everything and looking into other opportunities was something Song Haneul would like to hear—not me. If our personalities had been similar, we'd give similar impressions. But with nearly opposite styles, understanding wasn't easy.
"Really? Nothing else you want to do?"
I didn't even know what Song Haneul usually wanted to do. So answering easily was hard.
"Not yet. I want to finish what I was doing first."
Why did I have to give these answers for her? Song Haneul was the one lounging around doing nothing.
"Still, at least you haven't completely given up. That's a relief."
"Ahaha… given up? I just want to do it properly."
"Mm, Mom doesn't really know exactly what Haneul wants to do, but I believe in you. If you work hard, it'll work out."
I didn't know exactly what Song Haneul wanted to do either. Even saying writer—there were broadcast writers and scenario writers, and it seemed like the latter. That didn't mean I knew what kind of treatment those jobs got or how people in them lived. Just the level of knowledge an ordinary person would have.
"Yes."
I nodded, trying to wrap it up appropriately, but Mom didn't get up. By my estimate this was the timing to end it, so it felt slightly ominous. Mom sat still and stared right at me. The close distance made it oppressive.
"If there's nothing to learn at school, or if something bad happened. I understand all of it. …Still, seeing you always shut in at home like this hurts Mom's heart. But you're getting along well with Hamin, right?"
"O-of course."
"I'm glad you two seem close. Even if not often, you should go out sometimes. Okay?"
"…Yes."
I wondered how little she must go out for a mom who barely stayed home to worry this much. Thinking about how I'd been basically a shut-in right after the military, maybe it wasn't unfair. Still, since that day I hadn't looked so pathetic that it was unbearable to watch. So that was fortunate, at least.
If she was saying this, I wouldn't have to worry about looks when going out. I say I'm going out separately, Song Haneul says she has a drinking appointment—wouldn't that establish some kind of alibi? We could meet outside, switch bodies at the rented room, and come back that way. Being home felt like a prison from all the careful watching, and it was just uncomfortable.
"Oh, and still—going back and forth between each other's rooms in the middle of the night looks a bit off."
"…Huh? Yes?"
"Before, you were in Hamin's room talking about some game."
"Ah, th-that time."
Damn it.
"It was a game, right? I haven't seen you playing since."
Song Haneul, if you did it, at least clean up…
"I played a little, then it just felt like too much of a waste of time…"
"Anyway, I get it. You're all grown up—I'm sure you'll manage fine."
Seeing Mom's suspicion deepen, everything went dark before my eyes. How did it come to this? She must have found a lot of things suspicious. I thought I was acting normal, but maybe from Mom's perspective it wasn't. My head felt hot.
I was so lost on what to do that even after Mom left, I just sat there blankly.
"…I'm fucked."
I muttered about my situation and looked around. Not that a solution was going to appear from that.