"I love rice cakes."
The tanned, blonde woman said this while looking at me.
Maybe it's just my imagination, but I could've sworn her eyes, hidden behind those dark sunglasses, were scanning me up and down.
From my ankles to my thighs, waist, stomach, chest, neck, and up to my face—it felt like she was sizing me up with a bold, almost sticky gaze. Why did it feel like that?
…Probably just my imagination, right?
This is a gender-reversed world, so maybe I'm misinterpreting things. I mean, people can glance at each other, sure, but why does it feel like she's staring at me so… intently? I'm not trying to pick a fight or anything.
And, well, if it was some unattractive woman staring, I might've been annoyed, but thankfully, the blonde, tanned woman in front of me (let's call her Goldie for short) wasn't bad-looking. Even if she gave off nouveau riche vibes, she had a cool, refreshing aura. Like a beachy "cool girl" vibe. If I had to compare her to a car, she'd be a sleek, red Ferrari—a high-end sports car.
"Anyway, nice to meet you. I'm Yang Yeoju. Let's get along as neighbors."
Goldie—no, Yang Yeoju—introduced herself, grabbing Yejin's hand and shaking it enthusiastically.
She's the quintessential my-way-or-the-highway type, acting on impulse without a care for what others might think.
Yejin, on the other hand, furrowed her brow slightly, clearly uncomfortable with Yeoju's sudden hand-shaking.
Get lost, I'm not interested.
Yejin didn't say it out loud, but her eyes screamed it. Watching from behind, it was clear Yejin and Yeoju were polar opposites.
One was dressed like it's midsummer in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and sunglasses, while the other wore a black suit with a beige mandarin-collar coat.
Summer versus winter, complete opposites in style and vibe.
If Yeoju was a red Ferrari, Yejin was a black Bentley or Maybach—calm, luxurious, and unapproachable.
Noticing Yejin's cold reaction, Yeoju awkwardly let go of her hand and turned to me.
"And you are?"
"Oh, I'm Han Areum."
"Areum… that's an interesting name."
"Yeah, I get that a lot. 'How's a guy named Areum?'"
I cut her off before she could go further. I knew what was coming—How's a guy got a name like Areum? I've heard it all before, so I just answered preemptively.
Yeah, fine, I get it. The name Areum doesn't exactly scream "masculine," does it? It's not even a hanja name; it's literally the Korean word for "beautiful."
It's ridiculous, and I've been stressed about it my whole life. Kids used to tease me for it when I was younger, and I even begged my mom to let me change it. But she went on about how much she paid for a naming expert and how I shouldn't waste her efforts. Usually, she'd brush off my complaints with a laugh, but that day, she threw a full-on tantrum, rolling on the floor, so I had no choice but to keep "Areum."
Goddamn it. I wanted a cool name like Seojun or something, not Areum. I've even been called gay or worse because of it. It's the worst.
Honestly, one of the things I secretly hoped for after realizing I was in this gender-reversed world was that my name might work in my favor. I thought, Maybe a feminine name like Areum will be seen as masculine here. But nope, that hope went straight out the window. Even in this world, my name is apparently weird for a guy.
"Haha, it's a bit unique. Pure Korean, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Look, I don't have much time. Standing here blocking the way isn't helping me get to work," Yejin interjected.
"Oh, sorry! I didn't mean to hold you up."
Whoops—my bad. Yeoju stepped back to let Yejin pass, just as the elevator opened again.
Two middle-aged women in purple vests stepped out, carrying a large sofa.
"Well, I hope we can be good neighbors. Oh, and ladies, I was thinking, maybe put this in the living room," Yeoju said to us before turning to the movers and heading toward her apartment.
In a flash, she disappeared into her place, leaving me alone at the front door.
I closed the door and went back to the living room, flopping onto the sofa and staring at the ceiling.
An unexpectedly loud new neighbor had just moved in next door. Or maybe in this day and age, I should be grateful for such an outgoing neighbor?
I don't know anyone here. I've been in Seoul for barely a month, so I haven't made any friends or connections.
People can die without food or water, but they can also die without conversation. Humans are social creatures, after all. Without communication and connection, you're just… biologically alive, not socially.
Yejin? Well, I've only known her for, what, two days? Less than 24 hours, really. It's too soon to judge her, but from first impressions, she's cold and emotionally reserved.
She's the type who answers exactly what you ask and nothing more, like she's not interested in keeping a conversation going. Yeoju, on the other hand, seems like the type who'd give you ten answers for one question, including stuff you didn't even ask about.
Her bright yellow hair and tanned skin scream "active," and I bet if I asked her one thing, she'd throw in ten extra facts I didn't need. That's the vibe she gives off.
…Maybe that's just my bias talking.
And neighbors being close like family? That's rare these days. At most, you nod at each other in the elevator, right? Back in our parents' generation, neighbors might've gone on trips together, but now? It's the age of individualism.
Plus, Yejin didn't seem too thrilled about Yeoju. She had this look like an annoying bug was buzzing around her. I can't picture them getting along.
…They'll figure it out.
I turned toward the TV and switched it on. Staring blankly at the screen, I started thinking about how I'm going to live in this world.
I mean, how am I supposed to survive here without even basic knowledge of this place? Like, who's on the currency? What's trending on TV? Knowing that stuff would make living here easier, right?
What, am I supposed to go back to my original world?
I didn't choose to come here, damn it. I just woke up in this gender-reversed world. What am I supposed to do?
Even if I wanted to go back, could I? No way.
And, sorry to my parents back in my world, but honestly? Living here doesn't seem so bad.
As for filial piety, I can be a good son to this world's parents. And no matter how hard I work, could I afford a living room like this back in my world? Hell, I couldn't even afford a shoe rack's worth of space.
Back there, I'd be stressing about the military, job hunting, buying a house, and all sorts of nonsense. Why the hell would I go back? Here, it's like I've hit the jackpot in a gender-reversed world.
Lucky me.
For some reason, this world's Han Areum managed to marry a ridiculously wealthy woman. Even with the gender-reversal advantage, it's hard to wrap my head around how I landed someone so out of my league. It bugs me a little, but at this point, I don't care.
In this world, the process doesn't matter. Whether you take the high road or the low road, a good outcome is all that counts. So, I've decided not to worry about it anymore.
There's only one thing I need to focus on to live in this world:
Living for myself.
No more backbreaking labor. My old world demanded I sacrifice my youth for the military, but now? I'm living for my own happiness.
No military service? That feels good. I'm over the moon.
I pressed the remote to turn on the TV.
"Hey, you got an attitude problem or what?!"
"You! From head to toe! Head to toe!"
Holy crap, I'm so glad I ended up in a world where women go to the military. The TV was showing a show called Real Women.
A drill sergeant in sunglasses was screaming at women wriggling through a muddy pit like catfish.
"Number 4, you're slacking! Number 4's a hardcore individualist, not thinking about anyone but herself! My grandpa could crawl faster than that!"
Damn… they're getting worked hard. It's almost pitiful watching them roll around.
The women, covered in dark gray mud like shrimp coated in flour batter, scrambled out of the pit and rushed to the next station.
A colorful subtitle flashed: Trainees hurriedly dash forward.
Number 4, who just got chewed out, was sprinting toward a log on a hill. Her loose uniform caused her to trip and fall, her pants sliding down slightly.
Her underwear, black like her skin, blended in so well it was hard to tell at a glance.
Yup… full-on gender reversal. This is the real deal.
I thought maybe in a gender-reversed world, all the women would be gorgeous idols or something, like in Hitomi, but sadly, that's not the case.
Watching a woman who looked like she could be a cashier at a local mart roll around in the mud made my stomach churn a bit.
Whether I felt queasy or not, she was rolling her heart out for the show.
Fixing her slipping pants, Number 4 ran toward the drill sergeants in sunglasses.
"On one, shout 'Discipline!' and raise the log! On two, shout 'Training!' and lower it! Got it?!"
"Yes!!"
"Answer with force, you hear me?!"
"FORCE!!!"
Number 4 took a deep breath, bent her knees, and stared at the log in front of her. It was as big as a child's torso.
In my old world, a woman who didn't work out would struggle to lift something that heavy. But Number 4 reached for it without hesitation.