Inside a school campus, a football match was happening on the field.
"Pass the ball!"
"Stop being a ball hog and pass the damn ball!"
The atmosphere was heated as the players shouted.
Thud!
The player they were yelling at to pass the ball ended up shooting toward the goal, but missed.
"Damn it, Grace! I told you to pass the damn ball! Why do you keep being such a bitch, huh!?" One of the players stord toward the one responsible for the missed shot, furious.
But the culprit only glanced at her sideways before looking away, ignoring her.
The player got even angrier, the veins in her neck popping as her face turned red.
Without hesitation, she lunged at the other girl.
"Think you’re all that just because you’re the team’s number ten now, huh!?" She punched Grace in the face, intending to throw more, but the nearby players quickly restrained her.
Grace, who had taken the punch, imdiately grew furious and lunged at her, but was also held back. "You damn faggot! You trying to die!?" She struggled to break free.
"You think I’m scared of you, asshole!? Co on!" The other player also fought to get loose.
While tempers ran high and the other girls tried to calm the two, the sound of a whistle suddenly rang out.
Shiiiiii!
"That’s enough! Knock it off, you idiots!" The coach approached, yelling loudly as she stepped between them.
She shoved them apart before pointing at each one. "Listen up, you little shits, if you keep this up I’ll make all of you scrub the won’s bathrooms!"
She glared at the two, her face tightening as they finally stopped. "That’s what I thought. Now quit fighting like a bunch of little n and get back to practice!" she shouted, turning away without waiting for a response and blowing the whistle again.
Shiiiinn!
The players quickly dispersed, Grace and the girl she’d fought with exchanging angry glares before heading back to their positions.
"My, so much aggression~"
In the bleachers facing the field, three male students sat in the middle rows watching the practice.
Sitting at the end, the one who spoke was a black boy; his short hair was braided back, falling to his nape. He wore loose black pants, a short-sleeved crop top exposing his stomach, and was sitting cross-legged.
His hand propped up his chin as he looked at the field, amused.
"I heard they’re going up against a ta opponent next weekend. That’s why they’re so riled up."
The second to speak was the one in the middle, a white boy with close-cropped platinum blond hair, wearing dangling earrings, a tight black shirt clinging to his torso, and dark blue jeans.
He was leaning back on his elbows, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.
"I don’t get why these girls like this sport so much. Just imagining getting all sweaty and dirty—or worse, breaking a nail—makes shudder." The black boy said, shivering slightly before glancing at the blond beside him. "Don’t you feel the sa way, Chad~?"
"I don’t care about sweating, and I usually keep my nails short anyway." Chad shrugged lightly.
"Right, I forgot about that. Still, I’ll always prefer long nails, though sotis it’s annoying how easily they break." The black boy said, looking at his slightly long manicured nails.
His gaze shifted to Chad’s short nails with a hint of envy before moving to the third boy sitting on Chad’s other side, resting his hand back under his chin. "And you, Jonathan? What do you—oh, forget I asked."
Chad beside him smiled faintly while glancing over. "Did you forget who Jonathan is for a second or sothing? He doesn’t care about stuff like that, do you?" he said, looking at the other boy.
Sitting on the far side next to Chad was the third boy, his skin lightly tanned, with short light brown hair and brown eyes, wearing black jogger pants and a loose short-sleeved burgundy shirt.
Jonathan sat with his arms behind his head, calmly looking up at the sky, his right leg crossed over his left knee.
His gaze then shifted sideways to et his two flamboyant friends. "No."
Chad shot him an I-told-you-so look before turning back to the field.
The Black boy rolled his eyes, also refocusing on the practice. "Right, I still don’t get how you can enjoy these estrogen-filled violent sports. You gotta be more manly, Jonathan, or you’ll never get a girlfriend."
He straightened, lifting his chin and placing his hands on his hips. "Take , for example. With all my masculinity, I scored myself a hot girlfriend." He smiled, pleased with himself, while gently smoothing his hair.
Jonathan looked silently at him as he strutted mockingly, hip cocked. "Definitely, Tyrone, it was your ’masculinity’ that attracted your girlfriend." His eyes returned to the sky.
"Hm? What’s with that tone, boy? Got sothing you wanna say to ?" Tyrone raised an eyebrow at Jonathan, one hand on his hip while the other pointed and twirled slightly.
Leaning back against the bench, Chad chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, drama king, look, practice is over—your girlfriend’s free now."
Tyrone’s eyes imdiately lit up as he spotted his girlfriend approaching from across the grass.
"Hey! Babe~!" He stood, waving happily at the girl, who lifted her hand in response.
Tyrone quickly bounded down from the bleachers toward her.
"That bastard doesn’t even try to hide how thirsty he is for her." Chad comnted, watching Tyrone’s excitent. "Doesn’t even seem like the sa guy who used to say won were only good for sitting on him and nothing else."
Hearing no reply, Chad looked over at Jonathan, still staring at the sky. "What’s wrong? You seem more thoughtful than usual."
Jonathan took a mont to answer, exhaling softly through his nose. "It’s nothing serious, just reflecting on my life choices."
"Your life choices? You sound like so old aunt saying that." Chad laughed lightly.
"Mm." With a grunt, Jonathan lowered his arms and straightened, his gaze moving toward where Tyrone chatted with his girlfriend.
Watching his friend cheerfully talking while looking up at his girlfriend—almost a head taller—holding his waist caught Jonathan’s attention.
Blinking calmly, his face stayed neutral at the odd sight, already completely used to it. ’Though, even if I’m used to it, it’s still weird as hell.’ His gaze lingered placidly as his friend twirled one of his braids around a finger while the taller girl smiled, hands on his waist.
Normally, the roles would be reversed—or at least, that’s how it would be for him—but "normal" in this world was sothing else entirely.
"Hey, boys! Co here a sec!"
While he was once again losing himself in thoughts about this world’s logic, Tyrone called him and Chad over.
"Let’s go." Chad stood first, with Jonathan following right behind.
The two descended the bleachers and approached Tyrone and the girls.
"Hi, gan." Stopping near them, Chad greeted Tyrone’s girlfriend first.
The girl returned it, holding out her hand. "What’s up."
After they shook hands, Jonathan extended his hand as well, giving a small nod. "gan."
The black girl with voluminous curly hair laughed lightly as she shook his hand. "What’s up, Jonathan."
A soft clap echoed as they did a dap followed by a squeeze.
"Alright, girls, I haven’t introduced you yet, have I? This is my boyfriend, Tyrone." gan said, wrapping an arm around his waist.
"Hey there~." Tyrone waved smoothly.
"Hi/Hey."
"Hello/Hi."
"What’s up/Good."
The girls greeted him back, either calmly or with polite smiles.
gan then gestured at the other two. "This is Chad."
"Hi." Chad smiled faintly, raising a hand before slipping it into his back pocket.
The girls greeted him back, but this ti so of them had more aningful smiles, exchanging sly looks and nudges.
Chad noticed but didn’t react.
Shaking her head at their behavior, gan gestured to the last one. "And this is Jonathan."
Jonathan, hands in his pockets, raised one slightly in greeting. "What’s up."
The girls imdiately greeted him more cheerfully, like with Chad, wearing the sa aningful smiles as they looked at him.
"Alright, you perverts, don’t act like a bunch of weirdos who’ve never talked to boys before. Don’t make them uncomfortable." gan scolded them before turning back to the two. "Sorry about that, boys, they’re not usually like this."
"It’s fine, they don’t mind, right?" Tyrone, now hugging gan, asked the others.
"No." Chad replied with a faint amused smile while Jonathan only shook his head.
"Don’t be so hard on us, gan. It’s not like we get the chance to talk to handso guys like this every day." One of the girls raised her hands with a grin.
Chad and Tyrone laughed, clearly pleased at being called handso, while Jonathan remained expressionless.
"Hey, that’s my boyfriend you’re talking about. Watch your tone." gan pointed at her with a slight frown.
"No need to be jealous, it’s just a complint." Tyrone said, smiling and hugging gan tighter.
"Hmph, better cut this off early before those bastards push their luck." gan shot a dirty look at the team girls as she hugged Tyrone closer.
The girls booed gan while she flipped them off, turning back to Tyrone after. "Alright, the girls and I are heading to the showers now. Will you wait for here?"
He nodded, and they shared a quick peck before parting.
Silently watching the soccer girls head to the locker room, Jonathan noticed one of them walking toward him instead of following the others, which also caught their attention—they stopped to watch.
"What’s Grace doing?" one of the players asked, seeing this.
"Damn, are you dumb? Obviously she’s gonna ask that guy for his number." The girl next to her crossed her arms.
"You think she’s got a shot?" The first mimicked her stance, raising a brow.
"I hate to admit it, but that bitch is pretty cute—no homo, of course—and she’s our number ten. Plenty of guys would kill to date her." The second said, clicking her tongue.
With Jonathan, he watched the approaching girl and realized she was the one they’d called a ball hog earlier—the one who got punched in the face, Grace.
She was blonde, her hair in a short masculine cut—or rather, feminine in this world. The practice uniform outlined her small curves, but her masculine—or feminine here—gait made her less appealing to him.
"Hey, your na’s Jonathan, right?" Grace stopped near him, smiling confidently.
Jonathan blinked silently, looking at her. She was a bit taller than him, which felt unusual for him, but to others, the fact he was almost as tall as her was what stood out.
Because, just like many other things, gender height standards were reversed, with won being taller and n shorter.
’She’s probably around 1,82 or 1,83.’ he thought, noting the small difference since he was 1,80. "Yeah, my na’s Jonathan." he replied simply.
For a mont, Grace didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected such a flat response—and not just that, his expression hadn’t shifted at all. Not even the tiniest smile, giving her the impression of complete disinterest.
’Shit, don’t get nervous now!’ Grace tried to keep her confident smile and deanor. "Alright, do you have Instagram?"
"No." Jonathan answered simply again.
A mont of silence followed.
’Shit! What do I say now?’ She’d never been through this. Being rejected outright or subtly was one thing, but this total lack of reaction was another. Even if he didn’t seem bothered, she could clearly sense his lack of interest—different from the subtle signals most guys used.
’Damn, to think sothing like this would sting more than a simple no...’ Grace thought bitterly, feeling the hit to her self-esteem as her gaze focused on his face, studying him more closely.
She noticed the light brown strands falling by his forehead, his sharp angular jawline, the brown eyes that seed to shine, the straight nose, and lips a slightly darker pink that looked particularly attractive to her.
’No wonder he seems so uninterested. With a face like that, he’s probably used to pretty won hitting on him.’ She concluded, realizing his looks—the boyfriend of gan and the blond guy were handso, but this one was in a league of his own.
"Alright, never mind then. Sorry to bother you." She gave a weak smile before turning and walking away, sha making her ignore her teammates, knowing full well they’d tease her later.
Jonathan just watched silently as the girl left. ’Believe it or not, girl, I get you more than you think—being rejected really sucks.’
"Huh, that was painful to watch." The earlier player comnted, almost feeling Grace’s sting as she watched her leave.
"Yeah, with handso guys like that, they’re so used to being flirted with by won that they don’t even react. Sotis just being pretty isn’t enough." The other player comnted, turning and heading toward the locker room.
While the other players and gan finally walked away, the girl kept talking to her. "Yeah, if it’s hard even for pretty girls, imagine for girls like —no beauty, no charisma, no money? Good thing I didn’t even try my luck, I was sure I’d get rejected. It’s like they say, you already have the ’no,’ all that’s left is the humiliation." She laughed as she lightly tapped the other.
Taking off her vest and staying in just her sports bra, the other one continued. "Although I thought Grace’s type was more masculine guys, I didn’t think she’d go for the dommy daddy type."
"Dommy daddy?" The first girl asked, confused, before glancing back at Jonathan. "I think his type is more like a tomgirl, don’t you?"
The second shrugged. "Yeah, could be that too."
While Jonathan stayed where he was, Chad and Tyrone ca over, the latter resting an arm on his shoulder as he spoke. "And the Ice King Jonathan strikes again."
"Don’t call that, you know I hate that crap." Jonathan said, pushing Tyrone’s face away.
"But isn’t it true? I’m surprised she didn’t know about your reputation—or maybe she did and just didn’t think it was you?" Chad comnted, tilting his head slightly.
After being pushed by Jonathan, Tyrone shook his head with a pitying look. "But it’s kinda sad to watch, these girls always think they’ve got a shot with our glorious Ice King, but they always end up failing."
"Yeah, poor souls." Chad nodded with a grin.
"What do you an by ’our’? And I already told you to stop calling that ridiculous nickna."
"Co on, Johnny~ Don’t be like that, give a hug!"
Tyrone tried to hug him, but Jonathan kept him away with a hand on his head, his face twitching hard. ’Why did my only two friends have to be so damn gay?’ Even though he knew those bastards were as straight as he was—no matter how they looked—it was still hard to accept that kind of physical affection he knew was normal among won.
"Co on Johnny, let hug you, don’t be shy~"
’God... why have you forsaken ?’ Jonathan’s face went blank as he watched Tyrone pout. "That’s gay bro."
"How can hugging my friend be gay!?"
"Hahaha."
While Tyrone acted sus and Chad just laughed at Jonathan’s face, they stood there chatting, waiting for gan to return.
...
[Next day, Morning, Midtown High]
Click
Closing the locker in front of him after grabbing his books, Jonathan had just arrived at school.
Exhaling softly, he slung his bag over one shoulder while the other hand slid into his pocket, his gaze shifting around.
What he saw was what he was used to: effeminate n and masculine won.
It was like a freak show ripped straight out of the dream of a drug-addicted schizophrenic... or a Disney producer.
n wearing unusually short or tight clothes—things usually ant for won—and won wearing unusually loose and baggy clothes—things usually ant for n.
Not only that, most of the n wore earrings, had long nails and sotis even painted them, as well as longer hair.
And the won generally had short, masculine haircuts, rarely wore earrings, and forget about makeup—it was very rare to see a woman in this world wearing makeup.
That was one of the many strange things about this world. Even though gender roles had flipped, not everything had. Makeup, for instance, was more common for n here, but not to the level of being a "man thing," like it used to be for won in his old world.
There was also another thing that, thank God, hadn’t completely flipped: body hair. While n here were judged for having body hair—just like won in his old world—they weren’t judged as harshly, though still more than n from his old world.
And for won it was the sa: they weren’t judged as much as won back there, but they were still judged more than the n.
Which ant that, on average, won without hair in their armpits or without a "rainforest" between their legs weren’t that common, although finding such won wasn’t strange—and not necessarily because they were feminists.
And these were just so of the things he’d noticed in this world. While many things had flipped, others hadn’t, and so hadn’t changed at all.
In all his eighteen years living here, Jonathan had the clear impression this world was more of a caricature than an actual reality, but he had nothing to prove it—just an intuition that made him feel the incongruity.
While he looked around silently, reflecting for a few seconds, he’d already noticed the stares from students passing by.
Not unexpected. A handso man like him would draw plenty of attention in his old world; here, where he was part of the desired sex, the attention doubled.
And not only that—he was kind of famous, or more specifically, one of the school’s "king bees."
’God, soone kill .’
Which ant he was one of the "popular girls" (lol)... and in turn had all the attention that title brought. But he also had other titles and was known in other ways too.
’Wait a second... in Chinese terms, doesn’t that make a jade beauty!?’ As the sudden realization hit Jonathan, a loud thud on the locker next to him snapped him out of it.
Looking to the side, he found a girl leaning against the locker beside his, smiling at him.
"Hello, Jonathan, how are you?"
The girl had short black hair, blue eyes, and was wearing the basketball team’s jacket. She was also almost a head taller than him.
And he knew her—it was lissa, the basketball team captain.
Jonathan looked at her silently, easily recognizing that smile. "No."
The girl raised an eyebrow without losing her smile. "No what? I didn’t even say anything yet."
"But I already know what you’re going to say, and my answer is still no. I’m not interested in going out with you, lissa."
"Co on, Jonathan, don’t be like that. I promise it’ll be a lot of fun." She raised her hand toward his ear, moving it as if to tuck his hair behind it.
Jonathan calmly slapped her hand away. "Don’t touch like we have that kind of intimacy." He felt the urge to sigh like a tired old man. ’This bitch is really annoying.’
The girl in front of him was like the stereotype of the cocky guy who thinks a girl’s "no" just ans she’s playing hard to get.
As had beco clear, this wasn’t the first ti she’d asked him out. The problem was he had zero interest in her. Not that she wasn’t attractive—she was very pretty, with a nice body too—but she was basically the female version of the stereotypical cocky popular guy.
Which ant, as you’d expect from that stereotype, she is a "manizer". She’d already slept with several guys, known for being a flirt who couldn’t stick with one man for long, and had the reputation of a heartbreaker.
Like he said, she was the popular-guy stereotype, just a flirty player, and nobody really cared that she’d slept with a bunch of guys—that’s just how this world worked.
But to Jonathan, she was simply a whore. He didn’t have the slightest interest in her. Sure, he could just sleep with her—he didn’t care about people’s opinions and followed his old-world standards—but he didn’t even feel like doing that.
He had standards, even if they were low. Sleeping with a girl who bragged about having been with three guys at once just didn’t appeal to him at all.
"Heh, I love when you make that face." lissa said as she got closer to him.
"I’ve been looking at you with the sa face since the start." Jonathan replied with an expressionless look.
lissa just laughed as she stopped. "But that’s one of the things I like—I love these little gas of yours." She stopped just inches from him, looking down at him with that sa confident smile.
Thanks to their height difference, Jonathan had to look slightly up, but his face stayed blank. "And I’ve already told you there’s no ga. I just think you’re a slut and I’m not interested in you."
But instead of being offended at being called a slut, lissa just laughed, not denying it—after all, that stigma didn’t exist here.
And just as she was about to speak, another female voice ca from behind him.
"Hey!"
lissa only had ti to lift her eyes when a hand grabbed the front of her shirt and shoved her back, making her stumble slightly.
Straightening silently, lissa adjusted her jacket without losing her smile. "Why all the aggression, Liz? I was just having a calm conversation with Jonathan, relax."
The girl who had just arrived stood in front of Jonathan, frowning at lissa. Her gaze then shifted sideways toward Jonathan. "Did she do anything to you?"
Exhaling softly through his nose, Jonathan t the brown eyes of the girl slightly taller than him. "No."
With skin in a warm brown tone, a surprisingly non-masculine bob cut with bangs, and clothes that weren’t overly masculine—a pair of loose pants, a short shirt exposing her stomach, and a black jacket—stood Elizabeth.
Jonathan’s sister.
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