Riding the Bigger Blaze
I couldn't help biting my nails a little. Let's ride the bigger fire! I had no idea how things had spiraled like this. I regretted going out with Muk Ha-neul more than anything. It wasn't like I was an idiot—I knew full well what would happen if I did something I'd been told not to. Damn it.
For now, though, she was a guest, so I poured her some water in a cup and offered it. The reporter took it calmly, sipped, and then spoke up.
"Just to confirm... you really are Seol-guk, right?"
"...You already knew that."
"True, but seeing it with my own eyes is a bit different. Wow, this is truly amazing. How can a person change like this?"
"Have you ever met me before?"
"Actually, I was there during that interview incident."
So that's why she spoke like she knew my old self.
"Anyway, let me reintroduce myself. I'm Gu Ji-ye, a reporter with TTBS. I'm here to interview Seol-guk, the nation's first official patient of Sudden Gender Transformation Syndrome. Nice to meet you!"
"I'm not pleased at all."
"Yes, I completely understand. I'm sorry if I came off too aggressive. Honestly, I didn't think you'd actually open the door. I was just probing to see."
Probing? Threatening someone with their personal information? Every word she said stoked my disgust for this woman.
"Everything I said earlier was a total lie, by the way. I'm not an idiot—doing that stuff would get me sued these days. And it's not my place to say, but if anyone pulls this crap in the future, just call the cops."
"Thanks for the advice."
"I heard the NIS is helping you out. They're not coming after me or anything, right?"
That reminded me—I'd gotten Ham Ye-jin's phone number just the other day. Was I an idiot? If I'd locked the door and called her instead of opening up, none of this would've happened! Had becoming a woman really dulled my brain?
"You seem pretty pissed. I'm sorry."
"Do you think an apology fixes this?"
"Of course not. But if you hear me out, I think you'll find it's not a bad deal!"
Gu Ji-ye brimmed with confidence. Still, before listening, there was one thing I needed to know first.
"Fine, but first—one question. How did you find my address?"
I had to figure out how she'd tracked it down so I wouldn't get caught next time. Though it might already be too late.
"Easy. I narrowed down the neighborhood from the leaked photos, then asked around for houses where someone new had moved in recently. People have to throw out trash eventually—well, some don't, but not you, right? Stake out the trash area, and boom. You came out late at night at first, so I wasn't sure, but when I rummaged through your bag, I found white hairs. Game over."
It made my skin crawl. My face must've drained of color. This Gu Ji-ye woman had tracked me down with horrifying precision. What a freak. What the hell did I ever do to deserve this level of obsession?
"You stayed up all night for days watching the trash?"
"Nah, I set up a camera, of course. Checked it this morning."
She gave me a look like I was saying something ridiculous. I felt a twinge of embarrassment for no reason.
"Why go to such lengths? I'm just a novelist. Not some big national star—just a rookie who's published three books. What massive crime did I commit?"
I felt so wronged. What had I done to deserve this harassment?
"I get why you don't see why the media's all over you. Your actions were just your average scandal. You outed someone? Sure, it happens. You didn't start it—they did, and you paid them back. They killed themselves. Did you tell them to? No. It was their choice. Morally debatable, maybe, but legally, you're in the clear."
"Then why—!"
Gu Ji-ye's words echoed exactly what I'd always thought. I bore no real responsibility for that.
"But you just had to get Sudden Gender Transformation Syndrome. That's the issue."
Again, that damn syndrome! That absurd disease that turned me into this! It ruined everything.
"What would've been a blip of an article blew up nationwide when it overlapped with the TS. The fire was bound to spread huge. Honestly, you had the worst luck. There wasn't anything else burning right now. Some author just got roasted for power-trip drama, and it was dying down when your story hit. It's old news, but someone died, so the ripple's bigger."
So all this was just bad luck? Yeah, luck had never been on my side. Abandoned at the orphanage? Not lucky. Tangled up with that lesbian bitch? Unlucky. Catching this disease? The worst luck. Total nightmare.
"But you're misunderstanding something—not everyone's hating on you."
"They're not?"
"Sure, public opinion's mostly bad, but like you said, it's not all your fault. There's sympathy for your illness, curiosity about what the hell TS even is. Good or bad, you're a star right now."
A star. My editor's words about becoming one echoed unpleasantly.
"I don't welcome that attention, either way."
"Fair. But the fire's lit, and it's too late to put it out. So why not ride it?"
"Riding fire just gets you burned alive."
"It's a figure of speech! Anyway, I'm here to help. How about flipping this with an interview?"
"My editor said something similar."
"Sounds like a smart editor."
Hardly. But I figured I'd hear her out. She didn't seem like the type to demand I turn feminist.
"Fine, let's hear it. What's your plan?"
"Simple. We air the interview on TV. Prime-time public broadcast, 7 PM slot. Live! And you're from an orphanage, right?"
An uncomfortable question.
"Yes."
"And you've been donating steadily to it—pretty big sums."
"...So?"
"That's our angle. Boy abandoned at orphanage grows into proud novelist, repays the place that raised him. Cliché, but people eat it up. We push that. I actually read your novel Boy's Womb, by the way. Honestly, it got to me a little."
"You read it?"
"Yeah, the boy's story was so heartbreaking, I teared up. You might not know, but Boy's Womb is a bestseller now. All that controversy pulled in readers. Lots of haters, but the novel itself gets good reviews. Mind if I ask? It's autobiographical, right?"
"...Yes."
"Turning your trauma into fiction? Respect. We can totally sway opinion in your favor. Sure, you made enemies in college. The outing led to a death. Just act a bit regretful. Say you were young and dumb back then, reflect a little."
In the end, she was saying the same as my editor.
"You want me to go on TV and apologize?"
"Pretty much. I actually met Jin Seo-hye recently."
"You met that woman?"
My face twisted naturally.
"Fellow reporter, you know. Though we didn't work together much."
"What'd she say?"
"She's hurting bad too, naturally. Same hate comments. Regrets quitting. Thinks she'd have been fired anyway. She misses seeing you, wants to apologize if you do. You two on TV reconciling? Opinion shifts big time."
I'd never apologize to her, not even postmortem. But swaying public opinion? Tempting.
"That's enough to change everything?"
"Not completely, but it'll bury the old noise under something bigger."
"Bigger how?"
"You."
"Me?"
"You might not realize, but your looks right now... killer. Walk down the street, you'd get scouted as a child actor or idol trainee. Hollywood on U.S. streets."
"Huh?"
"Straight up: insanely cute, pretty, charming. Soften that sharp expression a tad, or keep the feisty edge—it's all adorable. Go on air, shed a few tears, show some vulnerability? Nation falls for you."
"You're saying sell my face for pity?"
"Don't frame it like that. People like attractive faces—it's human nature. Nothing weird. What's wrong with selling your looks? Writers sell words, singers sell songs, actors sell acting. Same as selling assets."