So You Were Secretly Masturbating Your Clit Here?

[This isn't amnesia or anything. I have to remember. I—]

I stopped walking and fell into thought. Once again, I recalled the various hypotheses I'd come up with.

The first thing that came to mind was possession. A simple and appealing explanation.

Considering how vivid my memories of my past life were, this hypothesis seemed the most plausible.

If this were true, so many things would become clear.

For some reason, the original owner's soul had switched places with mine, and he had left this note in his final moments.

If that was the case, all I had to do was adapt to this world and enjoy this incredible stroke of luck to the fullest. It was a comforting conclusion.

But what if this wasn't true?

At that thought, the anxiety I'd been desperately suppressing began to creep back up. I considered the other possibilities.

Virtual reality?

If all of this were an intricately designed simulation, there would be nothing I could do.

The more I thought about this hypothesis, the more helpless it made me feel, so I discarded it early on.

The next hypothesis was multiple personalities. Perhaps a brain that had endured severe trauma had created a new personality called ‘me’ in order to protect itself.

If so, this note would be the desperate trace left behind by my original self. This hypothesis was persuasive in its own way. Unlike possession or virtual reality, it was a realistic possibility.

But aside from the note, there was no clear evidence.

If this were true, I would need professional counseling.

There had to be a psychological counseling center for men at the academy, so it might not be a bad idea to visit it when I had time later.

And then there was the final possibility. The worst-case scenario, one that sent chills down my spine just thinking about it.

Someone had altered my memories.

Without my knowledge, I might have become a test subject for some organization or government experiment, with data for a personality called ‘me’ implanted into my brain.

The original Kim Sihyeok might have realized that horrifying truth and left behind a trace of resistance with the last of his strength.

It sounded like an absurd fantasy, but this hypothesis was somewhat persuasive as well.

More than anything, the cult that Chaerin had told me about bothered me. The group that had been caught trying to brainwash men.

According to the diary, the original Kim Sihyeok seemed to have attended that group several times as a child. Of course, he probably thought it was just a harmless community… but something about it felt ominous.

If my memories had been manipulated….

At that thought, it felt as though my heart had dropped to the floor.

What should I do from now on?

Should I investigate the contents of this note further first? What was it that ‘the original Kim Sihyeok’ had said he needed to remember so desperately?

Should I secretly look into the cult first? Or should I pretend not to know anything and continue living an ordinary life as I had been?

Two paths tangled chaotically in my mind.

The path of uncovering the truth, or the path of resigning myself to reality while doing lewd things every day.

What if I pursued the truth?

I would have to dig through the library for information about that cult, then carefully seek out and approach the people connected to it.

On top of that, I would have to trace Kim Sihyeok's past actions and search for other traces he had left behind.

But wouldn't that look strange to anyone who saw it?

Someone who had been wandering around with amnesia after an accident until recently suddenly obsessively investigating something as though he were a detective.

It was an incredibly unnatural course of action, and its purpose would be obvious.

“…Huh?”

It was right then.

A chill ran down the back of my neck, as though someone were standing behind me.

I was overlooking something incredibly important.

I hurriedly retraced every thought that had crossed my mind, whether consciously or unconsciously.

The thoughts I'd just had, the plans I'd made. What would determine whether those actions succeeded?

It depended on whether my actions had ‘gone unnoticed.’

Not be discovered. By whom?

That question led me, step by step, toward the worst possible conclusion.

There was only one answer.

I must not let ‘them’—the people who had manipulated my memories and created the ‘me’ I was now—find out.

Suppose I were the person who had planned the massive operation to manipulate my memories.

Would the people behind it simply abandon the test subject they'd painstakingly created?

Wouldn't they naturally want to check whether I was adapting well to the new environment, whether there were any unexpected bugs, and whether everything was proceeding according to plan…?

Could they really not be monitoring me?

That thought was like a tiny spark falling into a barrel of oil, instantly consuming my mind.

I absently glanced around. There was no one. I was alone on the quiet path.

But was that really true?

Could I be certain there were no cameras or recording devices in my house, the classrooms where I attended lessons, the paths I usually walked, or the bathrooms—in any of those places?

Could I be certain that none of the countless women approaching me were one of ‘them’?

I could never be certain.

The more I thought about it, the more breathless I became without realizing it.

I felt like a mouse trapped inside a massive laboratory.

Every action I took, every expression I made, even how erect I was might be transmitted in real time to some monitor somewhere.

Then… then how should I act?

Confusion engulfed my mind.

Should I keep a low profile? Should I pretend not to know anything, put on a clumsy act, and live quietly without attracting attention? But would that be the right answer?

No, wait.

I had been thinking about it completely wrong.

If ‘they’ had created me, what sort of person would they expect me to be? What kind of personality had they implanted in my brain?

Perhaps they expected me to be a man who had perfectly adapted to this gender-reversed world and lusted after women and pursued pleasure more than anyone else.

But what if I suddenly started avoiding women? What if I refused sex?

That would be the clearest possible signal to ‘them.’

A signal that I had discovered the truth.

Then everything would be over. I didn't know what measures they might take.

Perhaps they would erase my memories again and replace me with a different personality.

Perhaps they would repeatedly revise my personality whenever I drew close to the truth. The thought alone made me dizzy.

“Ha….”

What was even more frightening was that I had no way to be certain I was the first Kim Sihyeok.

Keeping a low profile wasn't the answer. If anything, it was the opposite.

To survive, I had to perform even more perfectly.

I had to act like someone who hadn't found the note, like someone who knew nothing.

Just as I had done until now, I had to keep accepting sex, pursuing the pleasure before me, and playing the role of a man who had adapted perfectly to this world. I had to be even more thorough, leaving behind not the slightest trace of suspicion.

But… how long would I have to keep this up?

How long would I have to tremble in fear, wondering whether someone else might be watching me?

My head throbbed. The intense stress brought on a severe headache.

The best I could do right now was go after women as usual while gathering as much information about the truth as possible.

Would I have felt more at ease if I had never found the note?

Standing still, my head hurt terribly. A frightening pain swept over me, as though someone were pounding my skull with a hammer.

It was then.

“Ahh… ngh…!”

From somewhere, I heard a woman's faint moan.

The moment that sultry moan pierced my ears, my headache vanished as if by magic.

Hot excitement forced its way into the place where the pain had been.

I didn't have time to wonder why the headache had disappeared. Led by instinct like a rutting beast, I walked toward the source of the sound.

The sound was coming from a narrow, secluded space behind the gymnasium. Hidden between an old storage shed and a wall, it was the kind of place no one would find unless they deliberately searched for it.

I quietly approached and turned the corner. An unbelievable sight unfolded before me.

It was Baek Hayeon.

She had snow-white skin and flowing white hair, possessing an otherworldly appearance as though she could not possibly exist in reality.

And she was the only female university student in this morning's class who had refused to practice caressing my cock—a woman suffering from the mental illness of believing herself to be a man.

I suddenly remembered a post I'd seen online. It had said that more women than one might expect suffered from mental illnesses that made them believe they were men, like Baek Hayeon.

I'd heard that most of them didn't learn caressing or sex at marriage academies, but lived lonely lives by themselves until dying alone.

Anyway, Hayeon had carelessly pulled open the top that had been tightly wrapped around her enormous breasts and was leaning back against the wall.

“Haa, hng, ah…!”

A pair of loose pants and men's boxer briefs had been tossed carelessly onto the ground.

Both her hands were covering the pussy between her legs.

Hayeon swallowed hard, stared intently down at her pussy, and brought her fingers to her labia minora.

“Huaa….”

A pleased sigh escaped Hayeon's lips.

Just as I'd confirmed during the physical examination, her body was practically a mass of erogenous zones.

The mere touch of her fingers to her pussy made Hayeon exhale hotly and leak a little lubrication.

Hayeon toyed with her labia minora a few times, then stopped, looking conflicted.

Apparently, merely touching the entrance of her pussy wasn't enough to give her sufficient pleasure.

“A-a little touching is okay, right…?”

With a tense expression, Hayeon moved her trembling finger. As though she were approaching an unfamiliar thing she'd never touched before, she brought it very cautiously toward her clitoris.

And finally, the tip of her finger touched the small, raised nub.

“Ngh…! Ah, hiiii…!”

-Pshh! Ptsst!

With a loud moan, she arched her back so sharply that it came away from the wall.

A clear liquid spurted from between her legs with a pshush, spraying like a fountain.

Although Hayeon belatedly clapped a hand over her mouth, the moan had already escaped her lips.