A New World
The room where Yeoeun was asleep certainly deserved to be called a computer room. There was little else in the way of furniture; instead, a massive desk stood beside the window, bearing three large monitors. Beneath the desk sat two desktop towers. Counting the one in her other room, she was running three entire rigs on her own for reasons I couldn't fathom.
Across from the window, against the opposite wall, stood a folding cot and a small display shelf. Through the gaps in the frame, I could see her backside sprawled over the mattress.
Talk about terrible sleeping habits.
She was lying flat on her stomach, the duvet kicked entirely onto the floor. Perhaps due to her height, the tip of one outstretched foot dangled past the edge of the bed.
Striding inside, I glared down at those plump, rounded cheeks. I had already thought the lady of the house was tall for a woman, but her daughter was even taller.
"Yeoeun. Hey, wake up!"
Unable to bring myself to lay a hand on her naked skin, I simply raised my voice. She must have been a heavy sleeper, as she didn't so much as twitch.
Is it all right to touch her?
I froze mid-reach, my hand hovering over her bare shoulder. Had I encountered a situation like this in my past life, opening the door wouldn't have even crossed my mind. Looking down at her sleeping form, I drew a slow, deliberate breath. The irritation and rash impulses that had bubbled up like boiling water cooled in an instant. What I was doing wasn't appropriate—not in my old world, and certainly not in this one.
I had marched in on impulse, but with a clear head, I couldn't bring myself to shake her awake. I backed quietly out of the room.
Thud, thud, thud.
Closing the door behind me, I gave the wood a series of heavy, unyielding raps.
"Ah, damn it! What?!"
"Breakfast is ready. Come eat."
"Ugh, seriously... Fine, I'm up."
Fortunately, she was awake. Hearing her grumbled acknowledgment, I headed back downstairs to the first floor.
By the time I finished plating breakfast, mother and daughter emerged simultaneously. The mother was impeccably groomed, her makeup already applied and her outfit pristine. Her daughter, on the other hand, was an absolute mess—hair like a bird's nest and sleep still crusting the corners of her eyes. Yet, despite her slovenly state, her smartphone was clutched firmly in her grip.
"Good grief... You wretched girl. Jeongseo is right here; couldn't you at least make an effort?"
"Ugh, why bother? You said we're family now. If we're family, being natural is fine. What's there to fuss over?"
"All you have is that smart mouth of yours."
Listening to their bickering, I carried out the gimbap and hot soup. The moment the dishes hit the table, both shut their mouths. Their eyes were glued to the neatly arranged slices of gimbap resting on the platters.
"Oh, Jeongseo... You must have gone to so much trouble so early in the morning."
"Not at all. Please, eat before it gets cold."
"Well... don't mind if I do."
Realizing I had forgotten the fried kimchi, I stood back up.
"Where's the cheese? Is there no cheese gimbap?" Yeoeun asked.
"No, there wasn't any cheese in the fridge."
"Man, but I like cheese gimbap."
At her daughter's whining, the mother raised her spoon.
Thwack!
"Then don't eat it! Get back upstairs!"
The spoon, which had just been resting in the egg soup, cracked smartly against the crown of Yeoeun's head with a clean, satisfying chime. Or perhaps it only sounded so melodious because of the sheer vicarious satisfaction I felt.
"Ow! What the hell, why hit me with a spoon?!"
"Did you just swear at me? Fine. It's been a while since you got a proper beating, hasn't it?"
"I didn't swear! I said 'ow', not 'what the hell'! It just slipped out because it hurt!"
Listening to round two of their domestic warfare, I quietly set out a clean spoon. Once I returned with the fried kimchi, the two immediately settled down and resumed eating in silence.
And boy, did they eat. I thought I had rolled an ample amount of gimbap, but we nearly ran out.
The mother departed shortly afterward.
When I handed her the packed lunch to see her off, she tried to press pocket money into my hands again, resulting in a minor scuffle of polite refusals. In the end, she gripped my hands, thanked me over and over, and only then climbed into her car. The way she kept looking back over her shoulder reminded me of a puppy reluctant to leave its master's side.
I had managed to refuse the cash, but I did end up accepting a surprise gift. I had no idea whether I would ever have use for it, but I had even promised to keep it on me at all times.
"Ugh, what a drag... Hey."
"Yes?"
"You're not seriously going out dressed like that, are you?"
"I am. These are the only clothes I have."
Yeoeun stood in the living room, scanning me from head to toe. I knew my attire stood out, but there was nothing I could do about it—the few garments I owned were all drab ash-gray.
"Sigh... Let's just go."
"Yes. Thank you for coming with me."
"Uh... sure."
Clad in sweatpants beneath an oversized coat, with a baseball cap pulled low over her brow, Yeoeun radiated an aura of pure, unadulterated lethargy. Even so, unable to defy her mother's strict orders, she had resigned herself to accompanying me outside.
Our destination was a large general hospital roughly an hour away from the house. Her mother had already booked appointments for a comprehensive health screening and various vaccinations.
"Hey, though... aren't you cold?"
"No. This fabric is thicker than it looks."
Although the winter chill had begun to relent, the lingering frost of early spring still nipped at the air. Yeoeun paused, staring down at me with furrowed brows, but I was genuinely fine. I had never caught a cold in my entire life; this body was bizarrely resilient, barely feeling either the bitter cold or the sweltering heat.
"Wait right there."
"Okay."
She started to take off her own cap, then hesitated before dashing back upstairs toward the second floor.
She sure loves running everywhere.
Moments later, she returned with a beanie, a scarf, and a windbreaker in hand.
"Yeoeun?"
"What?"
"I can't see anything."
"Ah... your damn head is so tiny."
Muttering under her breath, Yeoeun pulled the cap back off my head, adjusted the strap at the back, and told me to put it on again. She stepped back to inspect the fit, then sank down on one knee in front of me.
"Thank you," I said.
"Yeah... let's move."
She cuffed the oversized sleeves of the windbreaker she had draped over me and stood up. After scanning me head to toe one more time, she nodded in satisfaction. Contrary to her prickly tone and sulking expression, her hands had been surprisingly gentle.
Though I feel a bit over-bundled...
The clothes were huge, and my face felt stifled. With the cap pulled low and the scarf wound tightly around my neck, my field of vision was barely open. Still, I stepped out of the house without complaint, wondering if perhaps she didn't hate me quite as much as I had assumed.
"Yeoeun, could you slow down just a little?"
"..."
I had never imagined I would say such words to a woman. Yeoeun, who had been marching ahead with long, confident strides, slowed her pace without a word. Sturdy as this body was, there was no denying its short stature; the difference in our strides was substantial.
Maintaining an awkward, measured distance, we made our way to the subway station without exchanging another word.
"Hey, do you need to buy a transit card?"
"No, the lady said I could just use this one."
I tapped the card she had given me against the turnstile and passed through. The station was swarming with hurried commuters—almost all of them women.
"Of all times, it had to be rush hour... Haaah."
Stepping into the crowded underground concourse, Yeoeun closed the distance between us, subtly maneuvering herself to walk right in front of me.
"Hm?" she grunted as she felt a tug.
"Should I let go?" I asked, having caught the hem of her jacket to let her know I was keeping up.
"No. Keep holding on."
She glanced back briefly, told me it was fine, and kept walking. Yet her pace kept erratically speeding up and slowing down, making it tricky to keep in rhythm.
"Alright. You get on here and get off at XX Station. Ten stops from here. Got it?"
"Yes. But what about you?"
"I have to board over there."
Once down on the platform, she pointed out my stop. Perhaps assuming I had never ridden a subway before, she traced the route map and repeated the instructions several times. Technically, it was my first time in this life.
"Why? We aren't riding together?"
"Ah. That car is only for men. Look, hardly anyone's waiting there. Damn, must be nice."
A bright blue line ran along the top of the platform screen doors. According to her, this was a Male-Only Car. In this world, every operating train designated one specific car exclusively for male passengers—a policy implemented a few years ago to curb sex crimes such as voyeurism and sexual harassment.
"So men aren't allowed in the general cars?"
"It's not that they aren't allowed, but they usually stick to their own car. It's way more spacious."
"I'll just ride with you, then."
"You'll be fine with—well, whatever. Let's do that."
We shifted over to the adjacent queue. The train arrived almost immediately.
"Stick close to me. Don't wander off."
"Understood."
She repeatedly insisted that I stay glued to her side. The train that pulled in was already packed to the brim. Hardly anyone got off, while an overwhelming tide tried to push their way in. In contrast, the Male-Only Car next door looked delightfully vacant—two men standing on the platform casually stepped inside without a hint of struggle.
"Getting off! Excuse me, let me through!" a woman shrieked, barely squeezing past the doorway.
Then the boarding began.
"Excuse me, sorry! I'm with my younger brother—could you give us a little room here?"
"Go ahead."
"Thank you."
We barely managed to squeeze inside. Yeoeun negotiated a bit of breathing room from the woman standing by the doors, and reading the room, I pressed myself close in front of her.
So she actually knows how to speak like a civilized person.
Between being cheeky with her mother and bluntly dismissive with me, watching Yeoeun speak with polite deference to a stranger felt oddly surreal.
"Phew... Ugh."
The train lurched into motion, swaying everyone's bodies. With the door at my back, I was relatively secure, but Yeoeun seemed to be struggling. Her arms were braced against the glass above my head, bearing the brunt of the crushing weight pressed forward by the rest of the passengers.
Wait, is she doing that for me?
Seeing that there was still a sliver of space between us, I took hold of her waist and gently tugged her closer. Yeoeun looked down at me. I stood on tiptoe to tell her she didn't have to strain herself, but I was nowhere near tall enough to reach her ear.
"What?" she asked.
"I'm fine. You can lean in closer."
"Uh..."
She bent down, allowing me to whisper into her ear. As expected, her response was gruff and blunt. I really couldn't get a read on her personality.
"Kyaah!"
"Damn it!"
As we approached the next station, the train jolted violently, throwing several passengers off balance. Groans and irritated shouts erupted across the car, and Yeoeun was no exception.
Squish.
She tumbled forward, her entire frame crashing over me. A heavy, plush expanse of soft flesh smothered my face.
"Ah, crap... Sorry. Ngh."
She tried to push herself back, but the crowd gave her no quarter. Across the car, the doors slid open, and an even denser wave of passengers forced their way inside. Any room she had surrendered was lost for good.
Ugh... I can't breathe.
It was stifling. Trapped under the heavy pressure bearing down on my head, drawing air became a struggle. The muffled grunts between Yeoeun and me were swallowed whole by shouts of people yelling at each other to stop pushing. The train lurched forward once more, laden with even more bodies, and all I wanted was to breathe.
I had no choice.
Reaching up, I spun the visor of my cap backward and tugged the scarf down past my chin. Feeling me squirm against her torso, Yeoeun stiffened.
"Hey, wa—"
I grabbed one of her full breasts in my palm and shoved it upward to clear a pocket of air. Whatever protest was on her lips vanished instantly into stunned silence.
"Haaah... phew."
My airway finally cleared, and I dragged in a deep, grateful breath. But as I looked up, my eyes locked dead on with hers.
My hand was still firmly cupping her breast—and her face was burning crimson.
"Ah... well, you see..."
She looked furious. Without realizing it, I loosened my grip on the plush mound in my hand.
Did I squeeze too hard?