Chapter 2 : Dad, I’ll Borrow It (1)

One day, I realized I had been reincarnated into a world where gender roles were reversed.

After gaining awareness of my past life, the world I was in felt utterly messed up.

The gender ratio is 1:8. Males are severely outnumbered by females.

Matriarchal households where single mothers raise daughters are the norm.

Since everyone grows up without a father, being “fatherless” isn’t even considered an insult.

“Dad” is a status. A rare commodity.

During elementary school parent-visiting days, the kids whose dads show up walk around with puffed-up shoulders.

Men are legally allowed to form harems.

Back in my past life, that would’ve been the dream—an ideal harem life.

But romanticized fantasies aside, reality is bleak.

Frequent sex leads to chronic fatigue, and the psychological stress from the wives’ intense power struggles is crushing.

Research shows that having a harem reduces a man’s average life expectancy by ten years.

Despite the tireless efforts of the Ministry of Male Welfare, Korea now faces the threat of extinction in this era of declining harems.

Naturally, regular sperm donation has become mandatory for men.

From puberty, we’re required to visit the center twice a month.

It’s degrading to sit there, jerking off to uninspiring adult magazines for duty’s sake.

Still, I guess I should be grateful.

If the gender imbalance were any worse, men would probably be locked up in farms, reduced to living cum-factories pumping out milky white semen.

This isn’t so bad in comparison.

Another notable feature of this world is that women are overwhelmingly stronger than men.

It’s a common sight to see a lanky middle school girl slam a muscular man to the ground like it’s nothing.

Women dominate the military, police, sports—areas traditionally held by men.

How is this possible when their muscle density is different?

It’s baffling.

Apparently, it’s because of female hormones.

Thanks to those hormones, women here have a much higher average attractiveness.

Unlike men, they sport colorful anime-like hair and eye colors.

At this point, I’m convinced it’s not just hormones—maybe it’s the X-Gene or something.

Anyway, I’m not living some wild web novel life as an awakened alpha male messing around with everything that moves.

Even after realizing this world is reversed, not much changed for me.

Past life or present—I’ve never been particularly good with women.

Even if some loser from my old life is now walking around with a bunch of beauties clinging to his side.

I don’t really envy him.

I got married to my childhood friend right after graduating high school, but she soon left me.

That left a lasting scar I couldn’t shake, so I’ve lived single ever since.

Before I knew it, I’d found myself in that gray area between “young man” and “middle-aged uncle.”

Sigh.

Why does Manager Kim always force me to drink so much.

I had become a corporate slave at a black company.

Most men retire as soon as they get married and take on the role of a househusband, basically acting as a decorative pillar.

But I kept working stubbornly.

Because I had a reason—I needed to save money.

The women at my company subtly look down on me for it and make my life harder.

Just yesterday, they dragged me to a drinking party that went through four rounds.

I was forced to drink, then act like a dancing clown when ordered to sing or dance.

I often think about quitting, but the time I’ve already put in keeps holding me back.

I was standing there, waiting for the subway while trying to calm my alcohol-fogged brain.

When suddenly, a Tinkerbell popped up in front of me.

It fluttered its wings violently, as if protesting that it wasn’t there by choice.

The moth was caught between pale, slender fingers.

“Mister, you had a moth on your clothes.”

She was a high school girl in uniform.

In my previous life, pink hair like that couldn’t have occurred naturally.

Her skirt was shortened, and the front of her uniform was unbuttoned just enough to almost reveal her bra.

She had that vibe people often call “flashy” or “cheap.”

“And hi.”

She tossed the moth away and opened her palm wide at the same time.

“If you can help it, don’t touch moths with your bare hands. You’ll get a rash.”

“You’re not very surprised. Can’t you show a more manly reaction?”

“Eeek.” She probably expected me to jump back with a shriek and cover my mouth.

Because in this world, that’s considered a manly reaction—not a girly one.

Most men here hate bugs, after all.

The high school girl waved her hand dismissively, like she was bored by my response.

“I was surprised, but I saw a lot of moths during my time in the corps. I got used to them.”

In a year and a half of hell.

I might not know a hundred types of grasshoppers, but I probably saw more than a hundred types of moths.

“You talk like you’ve been in the army. A guy like you?”

“………………Just a figure of speech.”

Sometimes it gets tricky when the memories of my past and current lives get mixed up.

My common sense and this world’s common sense don’t always align.

I gave a wry smile and brushed off the high school girl’s question.

I don’t know her name or where she lives.

Same goes for her.

It’s just that my morning commute overlaps with her walk to school.

However, my commute to work and her commute to school happen to overlap.

For convenience, I’ve taken to calling her the “schoolgirl.”

The schoolgirl was actually the one who saved me not long ago when I was being molested.

Some woman was groping my butt.

At first, it was just light contact, but then she started blatantly fondling me.

Honestly, rather than feeling disgusted or humiliated, I just found it annoying.

I didn’t want to respond and end up being called a rattlesnake or something.

Then, suddenly, the harassment stopped.

Someone had forcefully grabbed the groper’s wrist.

“What, what, what the hell?”

“Pathetic. Lady, if you’re that horny, why don’t you go buy yourself a cucumber?”

It was the schoolgirl.

When she glared at the groper, the woman stammered, turned pale, and fled the train at the next stop.

That incident became the starting point for some light conversations between me and the schoolgirl.

Strangely enough, I found it easier to talk to her than I ever did with my ex-wife.

Though, to be fair, it felt like she was just going along with whatever topic I brought up.

“You don’t look so good.”

“I had a big drinking party last night.”

“Sounds fun. I want to try drinking too.”

“It’s not fun at all. Drinking is just pouring bitterness on top of bitterness.”

“Wanna drink this? It’s barley tea.”

“No thanks. You already drank from it.”

While chatting about this and that with the schoolgirl, the subway arrived.

Commute to work.

A packed subway where over 90% of the passengers are women.

I barely managed to find a seat, but everyone was packed tightly together.

The lingering slight dizziness from last night’s hangover made me feel even hotter.

I felt sorry for the schoolgirl who had to endure this sauna-like crowd instead of moving to the men-only car alone.

“It’s hot. At least turn the air conditioning up a bit, even if it’s morning, this train.”

Apparently, she felt the heat just as much.

The schoolgirl, who was already dressed casually, was now tugging at her shirt and fanning herself with her hand.

“You should behave properly in public. A virgin shouldn’t act like that just anywhere.”

Inside me, the Confucian dragon and censorship fairy simultaneously shouted “OUT.”

When I spoke disapprovingly, the schoolgirl looked confused.

Looking closer, it was clear her concern was based on common sense from her world.

It made sense.

“Am I your dad or something?”

Pfft.

She immediately made a deflating sound and pulled a sour face.

Was the schoolgirl from an SSR+ family with a dad?

My assumption was immediately proven wrong.

“I don’t have a dad, but if I did, maybe he’d be like you.”

“That’s rude to say to a single guy.”

“Sir, you’re single? I thought you had someone. Then maybe…”

[This station is Solbit Girls’ High School. Please exit on the left.] The subway announcement interrupted her, and the schoolgirl stopped talking.

“Sir, hang in there today. See you tomorrow.”

I muttered “hang in there” too, but I’m not sure if she heard me.

***

When I arrived at the company, I heard a thunderous announcement.

“Fired…?”

It was a sudden notice of termination.

I don’t think I was bad at my job.

I never half-assed anything or neglected the projects I was assigned.

I tried hard not to show dislike in human relations.

I’d endured and persevered for nearly ten years, devoted to the company — and this was the result?

“This has actually been decided for a while, but I didn’t have the heart to tell you. I’ll make sure you get a generous severance package.”

Ms. Kim, a working mom in her 40s who looked younger than she actually was, winked.

Ms. Kim’s apology wasn’t nearly enough to fix the situation.

I argued that firing someone and telling them on the same day was ridiculous, but Ms. Kim just smiled calmly.

“Last night’s drinking was a farewell party too. We’re going to miss you. Who else will keep the mood up if you’re gone? We already feel it.”

“This sudden treatment is unfair. At least tell me why.”

“Wow, you’re persistent, huh?”

Slurping on her iced Americano through a straw, Ms. Kim said,

“I know why you’re saving money. It’s hard for a man to earn money alone… If you’re okay with it, shall I take you?”

Ms. Kim was giving a sly smile.

She knew my weak spot and thought she was being generous.

She’d been sneaking hands onto my shoulder or trying to get me drunk at company dinners to put me to sleep.

I was fed up with her constant harassment.

But now, at the end, Ms. Kim was getting blatantly forward.

I sighed and finally let out what I’d been holding back.

“Enough. Ma’am. Go get rid of that chicken coop smell that even perfume can’t erase.”

Just like that, I became unemployed overnight.

And I realized.

Even in a world where gender roles are reversed, finding a new job is still hard.