Our Past (1)
"Ahh, finally..."
As a high school senior whose college entrance exam was finally over, who'd have thought I'd get to savor this ecstatic day twice... Gender-reversed world—no, around here they call it the Yeo-Nam Yeokjeon World. I'd lived in this place just as long as I had in my previous life, and now even I was starting to lose track of which side was normal. When the guys around me teased me for being too much of an Egen Nam, I'd still cock my head in confusion, but honestly? At this point, I'd adapted pretty damn perfectly.
"Hey, if I'm an Egen Nam, then... what the hell does that make you?"
"Me? I'm a total Teto. Dude, name one other guy who just flops down and crashes anywhere like you do."
"Haa, fuck..."
Moments like that... Still, the guys in this world didn't get touchy-feely with each other like women back in my old one, so in the end, I managed to fit right in. That lack of skinship made a bigger difference than you'd think.
Back when I was still struggling to adjust, I'd puzzle over stuff like, 'Why's this the only thing that's different?' Women had soft bodies—faces, hands, arms, chests, asses—all squishy, so they probably didn't mind touching each other much. It's instinctual, that urge to poke at something plush. Guys here, though? Still hard and bony. Touching another dude carried heavy sexual vibes, and anyone who did it casually got side-eyed hard.
If that wasn't the culture, I might've actually dropped out when I got sorted into an all-boys middle school... Those three years really shook my sense of self. No option to hang with girls when it was guys only, so unless I wanted to quit for real, I had no choice but to adapt...
'What's the point of a guy graduating from a top university? Just be competent enough, good at housework, and that's plenty.' I'd internalized thoughts like that without question. And no, I wasn't saying this because I'd bombed the exam—I'd genuinely gone through school thinking that way.
To explain it properly, I'd have to start with our dysfunctional family...
"You're the one who fucked someone else's kid first. Shouldn't you take full responsibility?"
"What...? You done talking shit? Then who was it last year who said we weren't divorcing over crap like this...!"
"So what? Got proof I said that? How are you so goddamn smug after knocking up some other bitch's brat?"
This was from when I was just two. Combining my past and current lives, I was around twenty-five mentally, but even so, memories from age two don't stick that sharp. This day, though? I'd never forget it.
My birth mom and legal dad had been the picture-perfect couple, the talk of the neighborhood—right up until I came along. They'd had a sturdy, envy-of-all daughter young, and for over eight years, not a single big fight. Happy marriage, the works.
Then tragedy struck out of nowhere. My birth mom got pregnant with me from a one-night mistake. The guy was some young tourist from Northern Europe, and according to her, it felt like bedding a god from myth. She tried desperately to hide it, but a swelling belly doesn't lie.
Shockingly, my legal dad embraced even me. At least until my little sister, Son Chaeah, was born.
Less than a year after I arrived, the world's cutest little sister, Chaeah, entered the picture. It would've been perfect if she'd been their kid together, but no—my legal dad had cheated this time. Chaeah's birth mom was some young female trainer, but since they weren't divorced yet, my birth mom became Chaeah's legal mother. It was my legal dad and Chaeah's birth mom hooking up.
That made our big sister Son Jihyun, me Son Seohyun, and little sister Son Chaeah all share the same legal parents. Jihyun and I had different birth dads; Chaeah and I had different birth moms. Jihyun was the couple's legit daughter, I was mom's affair baby boy, Chaeah was dad's affair baby girl. Life, huh...
Their plan went something like this: Chaeah's birth mom made peanuts as a trainer, but my legal dad was head over heels. He wanted to marry her but not raise the kid, so he stayed married to my birth mom until Chaeah popped out.
From the day I was conceived—or maybe before—my legal dad's head was filled with plans to divorce the second Chaeah was born.
Twist of fate: both parents cheated around the same time. The divorce war kicked off right then. No assets to split anyway—it was all about who got stuck with custody.
I was a guy, sure, but my birth mom was at a massive disadvantage. If both parents wanted custody, dad usually won unless there were major red flags. If neither wanted it? Mom got saddled unless she had flags.
The game was rigged from the start. Court probably spouted economic reasons and fancy bullshit... After the verdict, my birth mom turned into a completely different person.
Like she was hearing phantom voices of 'You fucked up first,' she'd snap, screaming at thin air about how you should've watched that man. She held it together for about five years, but then she trashed that woman's desk at work.
And that very day? When she started her real reign of terror. Gambling away savings, whoring around, boozing daily, coming home to beat on Jihyun to vent... That last part scarred me deepest. The helplessness I felt then? No words can touch it.
Jihyun endured a hellish adolescence, but thankfully, we three siblings rarely went hungry. Multi-kid benefits—less than single-parent ones, but decent with three kids—mom's severance, and Jihyun's part-time gigs starting in middle school. Money trickled in from everywhere, holding our powder-keg family together. Barely. Just the shell of one...
Which meant, inevitably, even that shell shattered.
Around when I was ten, my birth mom came home sober for once. Looking back, the fried chicken in both hands suggests she'd hit a gambling jackpot and was hyped. We'd already written her off after she first hit Jihyun—Chaeah and I would've never forgiven her.
Anyway, she came in clear-headed after years, called us to the living room for a family chat. I knew it wasn't Jihyun from the door knock, locked myself and Chaeah in our room. But she'd figure we were home easy. No ignoring that, so I left Chaeah barricaded and went out alone.
It'd been ages since she'd come home sober, so I let my guard down. 'She's still my real mom... Trash doesn't even cover it, but no way she'd lie about missing her son's face.' And her being a woman just made me sloppier.
What an idiot...
She charged at me like she'd crater the floor, her face cycling live through ecstasy, resentment, arousal, heat, rage—every expression burned into my brain like photos. I knew instinctively those were the desires I'd face all day.
Pre-puberty, my old-life 'man' identity rock-solid, even I froze in primal terror at the power gap. Couldn't even think rebellion—pure animal fear paralyzed me.
She barely remembered my face, so probably hadn't planned this from the start. But my sunny platinum blond hair, sky-blue eyes—my grown-up look triggered memories of my birth dad she'd never forgotten. That snapped her completely.
She lunged, then crushed my cheeks like she hated me to death, yanking my hair with the other hand. Yet thrilled, grinding her thigh and hips on me, fumbling to strip my pants. Thank God, before that scum's wish came true, Chaeah burst out and smashed her skull full-force.
Jihyun always talked me out of reporting the child abuse: 'You two still need parents.' She shouldered it alone. But when she heard about this, her face... I remember it vividly.
Jihyun regrets not being there, but I'm grateful she wasn't—grateful she didn't become a murderer.
Birth mom hit court again post-divorce and lost perfectly. Evidence of Jihyun's beatings? Mountains, thanks to my collecting. But attempted child sexual assault on me? Near impossible to prove.
The second she blurted in court, 'That little shit made a lewd face first,' her own lawyer quit on the spot. Trial fizzled out just like that.