—Doctor, we're losing her!—
—How much blood?! She won't make it! All her bones are shattered, the bleeding won't stop.—
—Keep fighting! To the end!—
The words pierced my mind like shards of broken glass. It hurt to breathe. Every inhale felt like swallowing burning sand. Everything hurt. The darkness was so thick it felt like I could touch it—if only my hands would obey.
I opened my eyes. The sky? No… a ceiling. An unfamiliar ceiling, with a crack shaped like a question mark.
—A dream?— a weak hope stirred somewhere deep inside. —Just a dream!—
My heart was pounding as if it was trying to break free from my chest and run away from this nightmare. I pressed my palm against my chest, trying to calm the frantic rhythm.
And froze.
What?
Where?
Where are my boobs?!
It's not like I had anything worthy of glossy magazine covers, but there should've been something there! At least modest curves—something you could rest your head on during sad moments! But now… flat. Like an ironing board.
In panic, I started patting my torso like I was searching for a lost TV remote. Maybe they were just… hiding? Shrunk from stress? Or… God, I've read about cases like this! People wake up after a coma and realize their—no, nonsense. I wasn't in a coma. Last night I was at home, drinking tea, reading a manhwa…
A knock on the door. First polite, then persistent, like a woodpecker that decided my door was the perfect tree for building a nest.
I jumped up. Thankfully, my legs worked. I opened the door and blurted out the first thing that came to mind:
—My boobs! They're gone!—
A man stood before me. Tall, wearing a velvet robe the color of ripe plum, practically screaming I know how to choose fine fabrics. He looked about thirty, with a face that, in another context, might be called attractive. Right now, he was staring at me like I'd just announced that the Earth was flat and rests on three whales.
—Sonu, —he said slowly, stretching each syllable,— have you… lost your mind? What boobs are you even talking about?—
His voice was smooth, like that very robe.
And completely unfamiliar.
What? Me? Sonu? What kind of ridiculous name is that—it sounds like a breed of cat or a type of tea!
I looked around the room. Not mine. Definitely not mine. My apartment smelled like coffee and old books. This place smelled like… citrus. And something chemical, like someone had just cleaned the floor with lemon-scented cleaner.
My thoughts started racing: I got drunk at a bar (again), some handsome stranger picked me up (happened before), and he turned out to be… what? Why does he know my name? No—not my name. Sonu. He called me Sonu.
Wait.
Stop.
Hold on.
I looked at the man again. Handsome. Well-groomed. Expensive robe. An apartment that smelled like premium cleaning products. And he knows my name. Or the name he thinks is mine.
Oh God.
I looked at him with such horror that even he seemed startled. I jumped back, hitting my spine against the doorframe.
—Please don't kill me…— I croaked. Or hissed? My voice was low, rough, like I'd just coughed my lungs out after ten years of smoking.
—I… I didn't see anything! I mean, I didn't hear anything! I mean… I don't remember how I got here!—
My thoughts took a sharp turn: I've been kidnapped. A handsome, well-groomed psychopath. Possibly rich. He probably has a hobby—kidnapping people and giving them new names. Or… or he thinks I'm someone else. Sonu. And he's keeping me here because…
Because what? Because I look like his missing brother? Or his lover? Or someone he hates and is now holding captive to…
The man took a step closer. His expression was changing faster than scenes in an action movie teaser: confusion → concern → panic → determination.
—Sonu, —he reached out his hand but didn't touch me,— are you okay? Calm down, breathe. Maybe you just had a nightmare! It's just a dream…—
Right. A nightmare. I need to wake up. I'll pinch myself hard and—
He hugged me.
I froze, bracing for the worst—a knife in the back, a chokehold, something straight out of a Hollywood psychopath's playbook. But his embrace was… warm. Comforting. The kind you could sink into and forget everything.
Out of sheer hopelessness, I burst into tears, pressing my face into his robe. It smelled like that same lemon scent, mixed with something woody. Expensive soap. Or aftershave.
—Rest, —he said, stroking my back like I was some small, frightened animal. —I'll call the university and tell them you're not feeling well. I need to get ready for work, and you… pull yourself together. Okay?—
He left, leaving me in a room that seemed twice as big and three times as lonely.
I stood there, staring at that same crack on the ceiling. A question mark. Very fitting.
Why does this man feel familiar? Not in a "I've seen him somewhere before" kind of way, but… like I already knew what he would look like. How he smells. How his voice sounds.
And the name… Juwon? No, he didn't introduce himself. But the name kept spinning in my head: Juwon. Kim Juwon.
As if on autopilot, I stepped into the hallway. The wooden floor creaked under my bare feet. Two doors across from me—one slightly open, a neatly made bed visible inside. The other closed. The bathroom should be…
Yes, there it is.
I stepped inside, clicked the lock—a small victory against the unknown—and walked up to the sink.
A mirror. Old, slightly worn around the edges. I splashed my face with icy water that stung like thousands of needles. Then I raised my head.
And met the gaze of a stranger.
A young man. Around twenty-five, maybe. Dark hair, messy from sleep. Wide eyes filled with pure, unfiltered terror. Sharp cheekbones, a straight nose, lips slightly parted in shock.
He was looking right at me.
I blinked—he blinked.
I raised my hand—he raised his.
Seconds ticked by. My brain, usually quick, was lagging like an old virus-ridden computer.
The reflection.
This is my reflection.
Me.
Me?!
I'M DEFINITELY DREAMING!
My hands were shaking as I yanked off the T-shirt and sweatpants. Foreign skin. Darker than mine. Muscles—more than I ever had. Flat chest.
And… oh God.
I looked down.
And froze.
Between my legs was… something. Small. Modest. Peacefully sleeping. A penis. I have a penis. I HAVE A PENIS.
—Ha,— slipped out of me. —Ha… ha-ha.—
I pinched my arm. It hurt. Harder. A lot harder. Again. A bruise was already forming.
—HAHAHAHAHA!— The laughter burst out of me—hysterical, uncontrollable. I collapsed onto the tiles, cold as a block of ice. Tears streamed down my cheeks, mixing with laughter.
—This isn't a dream… this is real… I have a penis… I'm a guy… I'm Kim Sonu…—
Maybe half an hour passed. Or an hour. Time had lost all meaning. I sat there, hugging my knees, staring at this new, someone else's body.
Pull yourself together. Think. Pieces. Where have I heard that name? Kim Sonu… Kim Sonu…
A knock on the door.
—Kim Sonu, how long are you going to stay in there? I need to go to work!—
His voice. The brother. The one in the robe. Kim Juwon. Kim Sonu. Kim…
I jumped up and flung the door open.
—You're Kim Juwon, right?!— I asked, hope trembling in my voice.
He was already dressed in a formal suit. He looked at me—and a faint blush appeared on his cheeks. Then his gaze dropped lower, and he quickly turned away.
—Yes, Sonu! I'm your brother! Kim Juwon!— his voice sounded flustered. —If you needed time to… jerk off, you could've used the bathroom on the second floor! For God's sake, put some clothes on and go get some rest! And don't do that again!—
The door slammed shut right in front of him.
—Juwon, I… I need time!— I shouted at the wood.
Footsteps sounded behind the door, followed by a heavy sigh, and a minute later—the sound of the front door closing.
I went back to my room. Sat down on the bed. Looked around.
A student's room. Textbooks on the desk. A laptop. A poster of some K-pop group on the wall. On the shelf—several volumes of manhwa.
I picked up the first one.
—"Mature Romance."—
My fingers went cold.
I know this manhwa. I read it a couple of weeks ago. Two main characters—Park Taehyun and Kim Juwon. Yaoi. A shy financial director and a persistent CEO. And a supporting character… Kim Sonu. The younger brother. A student. The one who keeps interfering in their relationship because…
Because he's a homophobe.
—Holy shit,— I whispered. —I'm inside a manhwa. A yaoi manhwa. In the body of the main character's homophobic brother. I have a penis. And no boobs.—
I burst out laughing. Hysterical, bitter—but already laced with a hint of acceptance.
—Well then,— I said to my reflection in the dark laptop screen. —Nice to meet you, Sonu. Looks like we're in for one hell of an adventure. Rule number one—stop being a homophobic jerk. Rule number two—help big bro find happiness with his boss. And rule number three… learn to live with this.—
I looked down.
—This little surprise between my legs.—