Two young people—me and her—standing awkwardly in the elevator, faces flushed red.
And though I didn't notice it myself, she claimed to smell semen coming from me.
A young man and woman, reeking of semen, blushing awkwardly in an elevator, stared at by a spouse.
Anyone witnessing this scene would naturally assume we're having an affair. It's the kind of situation that screams misunderstanding.
The already tangled situation has just gotten infinitely more complicated.
I don't know how to explain this to Yejin. My mouth goes dry, and my trembling hands shake even more.
In this perfect pinch, I cling to a sliver of hope.
Maybe she has an unusually sensitive nose, and that's why she picked up on the smell.
Or maybe Yejin's sense of smell isn't that sharp, and she won't notice anything. I pray with all my heart that nothing happens, that this passes without incident. My mouth feels parched, my tongue like a cracked, drought-stricken field.
Sniff, sniff…
Yejin, standing at the elevator's entrance, sniffs the air as if she's caught a scent. I can't bear to look at her and lower my head.
Why did I jerk off at home earlier? Why couldn't I control my animalistic urges? Why didn't I shower thoroughly to get rid of the smell?
Why didn't I at least look into how men in this world clean up after masturbating?
Regret floods my mind like a dam bursting. I can't comprehend why I have to go through this.
I was just an ordinary guy, suddenly thrown into this gender-reversed world, forced into a marriage I never wanted, and now stuck in a situation where it looks like I'm cheating when I haven't done anything wrong. This reality feels unbearably cruel.
How do I explain this? Even if I do, will she understand? And if she does, what will Yejin think of me when she finds out I was pathetically jerking off at home?
This is worse than the time in middle school when my older brother caught me masturbating.
The elevator doors start to close, as if separating me from Yejin's gaze. I pray they shut quickly. I don't care anymore—I just want to escape her. That's all I want.
Click.
My gaze, fixed on the floor, slowly lifts. Is this going to pass?
Of course not.
Yejin slips her hand between the nearly closed doors. The elevator's sensor detects the obstruction, and the doors slide open again, revealing her bit by bit.
Her face remains expressionless, but that only terrifies me more.
If she'd just yell, scream at me about why the elevator smells like semen, I'd feel more at ease. But instead, she silently alternates her gaze between me and her.
"…So, um… this isn't… our neighbor… I don't… know why… it smells like this… I didn't do anything," I stammer.
"…"
She, standing in the corner of the elevator, steps forward toward Yejin. She's clearly as flustered as I am—sweat drips down the back of her neck.
She tries to slip past Yejin, her slipper-clad foot stepping out of the elevator.
Even then, Yejin remains silent, staring at me as if lost in thought. I can't meet her gaze and keep my eyes down, occasionally glancing up to gauge her reaction.
Her body gradually moves out of the elevator. She probably just wants to escape this awkward situation.
Running away without explaining isn't great, but I understand her. From her perspective, she's done nothing wrong, yet she's caught in the crossfire just for being here with me.
Thud.
As she steps out, she accidentally bumps Yejin's shoulder.
A brief silence. Yejin, who had been staring at me, lowers her head. Her long bangs fall over her face, hiding her eyes.
Yejin grabs her shoulder. Before she can say anything, Yejin swings a fist at her face.
Crack!
Her sunglasses, still with the price tag on, snap in two. Blood trickles from her mouth as she collapses in front of the elevator. Yejin raises her foot and kicks her stomach like a soccer ball.
Ugh!
A choked groan and a dull thud echo through the hallway.
As Yejin's relentless kicks rain down, she curls up, shielding her face, chest, and stomach, taking the blows as they come. I rush forward and grab Yejin from behind.
I can't let her beat an innocent person like this.
"It's not what you think! I can explain everything!"
I grab Yejin's waist as she tries to stomp her head and drag her back into the elevator.
I hurriedly close the elevator doors.
"It's not what you're thinking. You're misunderstanding—I can explain everything once we get home."
"Let go!"
I barely register her words. She twists my wrist to free herself, then turns to face me, raising her hand.
Slap!
The sound rings out as my head jerks to the left. My face feels numb, like it's been injected with anesthesia, and a high-pitched ringing fills my ears. Before I can process the sudden shift, another blow comes.
This time, it's a fist, not a slap. It feels like someone's grabbed my neck and forced it to the right.
My head spins, my legs go weak. My mouth tastes of iron—blood. As I try to regain my senses, another punch lands. This time, my eye. Then my nose.
In this gender-reversed world, a woman's fist is nothing short of a weapon.
I can't resist as her punches hammer my face. I collapse, unable to raise my guard, taking every hit. Only when the elevator doors open does she stop.
"Follow me."
She grabs my hair roughly, yanking me up and dragging me out of the elevator like a sack of grain. I'm powerless to resist.
She punches in the code for our apartment door and throws me inside like a discarded bag. I roll across the cold floor, still in my shoes, unable to stop myself.
Through my barely open eyes, I see Yejin staring down at me, her face still expressionless. My instincts scream that her anger is far from over.
Should I try to escape?
The thought crosses my mind, but I can't move a finger. My body warns me that more hits could kill me, but I'm paralyzed.
Yejin tosses her Chinese-collar coat carelessly into the room. As if that's not enough, she strips off her suit jacket and unfastens her wristwatch, throwing them to the floor.
Then, with her body unburdened, she slowly walks toward me.