In all my life, I never imagined I'd be so battered by a woman that I'd be lying on the floor, groaning, unable to move a single muscle.
I gazed at Yejin helplessly, without even the strength to twitch a finger. Yejin, barefoot, stood in front of me, quietly staring down at me.
Her long, black bangs cascaded down like a waterfall, influenced by gravity. Lying on the floor, I couldn't dare meet her eyes. All I could do was stare at her feet.
"I will live for myself."
In this gender-reversed world, all the rosy hopes and dreams I had when I first realized I'd arrived here—whether it was monopolizing everything or whatever else—had shattered into tiny pieces, leaving no trace behind.
Haven't I been too naive? Haven't I been looking at this world I'm living in now with too much optimism?
Even in my original world, not all men were unconditionally kind to women or blindly followed their every word. There are plenty of men all over the world who hit women, including their wives.
Of course, the reverse happens too, but the point is… I'm lying here on the floor, beaten by Yejin. That's what matters, isn't it?
Honestly, I'm terrified she might hit me again. The sensation from when she hit me in the elevator is unforgettable. My eardrums felt like they were bursting, my skull was ringing, and my brain felt like it was being crushed. The fear that another hit could actually kill me is etched deep into my bones.
Why do I have to be beaten?
That question didn't even cross my mind. In the face of overwhelming fear, humans are weak creatures who can do nothing but bow their heads and tremble.
No matter how strong-willed or mentally tough someone is, one punch from Yejin would have them kneeling at her feet, licking her shoes. That's how much it hurt.
Yejin knelt down, looking into my eyes as I lay sprawled on the wooden floor. I desperately averted my gaze, avoiding her piercing stare.
That was the last act of resistance I could muster. But like an adult effortlessly subduing a rebellious child, Yejin rendered my final stand utterly powerless.
"What are you going to do?"
"Ugh…"
Yejin grabbed my hair and lifted me up. Like pulling a carrot from the ground, she effortlessly hoisted me with one hand to meet her eye level.
A pair of deep, abyss-like eyes stared into me. Looking into them, I felt a strange fear, as if something might leap out from her pupils, grab me, and drag me into their depths.
It sounds absurd, but that's how cornered I felt. That's the best way to describe it.
It was like when I was a kid, when thugs in a back alley forced me to hand over all the money in my wallet, or when my gym clothes were stolen by the delinquents in my class, and I got beaten by the PE teacher instead.
In the face of overwhelming fear that I couldn't control, all I could do was feel powerless, pathetically lowering my eyes and starting to cry.
Crying solves nothing in this world. It doesn't stop the kicks from someone beating you, nor does it make a teacher stop hitting you and return to the podium.
If anything, they'd take the watch off my wrist, slap me harder for crying like a "sissy," and never let up.
"Crying won't help."
Yejin's grip on my hair tightened. Slowly, her left hand began to rise.
Like a volleyball player preparing to spike a ball, she was ready to strike me hard.
I squeezed my eyes shut, trembling like a leaf in the wind, unable to do anything but brace for the pain.
All I could think was that it might be better to take one clean hit, have my eyes roll back, and pass out.
…
I braced myself for a blow far worse than the one in the elevator, but nothing happened.
I counted in my head. One, two… five, six… nine, ten. By ten, there was still no sign of her hitting me.
Cautiously, so she wouldn't notice, I cracked my eyelids open just a sliver. Through my blurry vision, I saw Yejin had lowered her hand and was looking pensive.
Her grip on my hair was loosening. Things didn't seem to be heading toward the worst-case scenario I'd imagined.
This time, I fully opened my eyes to look at her. She wasn't paying attention to me, leaning against the wall, her focus entirely elsewhere.
Sniffing the air a few times, Yejin stood up and started walking somewhere. Her destination was the study where I'd been masturbating earlier.
I heard clattering from the study. Then Yejin emerged, holding something. I squinted to see what was in her hand.
As soon as I realized what it was, my headache wasn't just from being hit—it was from something else entirely.
In Yejin's hand was the tissue I'd used to clean up after masturbating earlier. The tissue, rolled into a ball, was still sticky with my semen, clinging to it like spider webs.
Even though it had been a while since I'd ejaculated, the semen still gleamed with a milky hue, as if it had just come out of my body.
Some of it was so thick it stuck to her fingers, forming a thin membrane like an amphibian's webbed feet.
Some of it, unable to bear its own weight, dripped onto her black pants.
Dressed in a white shirt and black pants, Yejin stood in front of me, staring at the sticky semen forming a transparent film between her index and middle fingers, like a waterfowl's webbing.
She glanced at the semen clinging to her hand, then looked down at me, sprawled on the floor, as if asking how this happened. Under her gaze, I wanted to die for an entirely different reason.
This was the ultimate humiliation of my life.
Not only had I been beaten without resistance, but now she'd found evidence of my masturbation and was showing it to me.
Being hit by a teacher or delinquents, or even getting caught watching porn by my mom, paled in comparison. Those were trivial.
Unless a teacher who was beating me suddenly ran off to grab the tissue I'd used to jerk off, nothing could compare to the humiliation I was experiencing now.
My pride as a man was torn to shreds. I couldn't bear to look at this scene anymore, afraid I'd lose my mind, so I lowered my gaze.
Sure, getting caught masturbating is the fault of the one who did it, but right now, I didn't feel that way.
Instead, anger, resentment, and other negative emotions toward Yejin, who'd inflicted this deep humiliation, made my hands and feet tremble.
Not wanting her to see my shaking, I gripped my hands and feet tightly. My heart pounded as if I'd been running laps around a track at full speed.
Even the bare minimum of privacy I should have as a man had been obliterated, but Yejin, whether aware of my reaction or not, grabbed a trash can, tossed the tissue ball into it, and walked past me.
"There seems to be some misunderstanding between us."