The render had frozen again.
Again.
The progress bar was stuck at 87%.
Eighty-seven.
Not even ninety. The damn software didn't even have the decency to fake hope.
Eyes burning and back destroyed, I grabbed the fourth cheap coffee of the night and took a lukewarm sip while checking the clock in the corner of the monitor.
2:53 AM.
Perfect.
Absolutely perfect.
I'd been awake for almost thirty hours.
The office was empty except for the hum of fluorescent lights and the miserable smell of instant ramen and defeated humanity. My shirt was wrinkled, I had bags under my eyes down to hell, and my jaw was so tense I could probably crack walnuts with it.
Then the office phone rang.
No.
No, no, no…
I looked at the screen.
'Sato-bucho.'
I felt like throwing up.
I answered.
"...Yes, boss."
"WHY THE HELL ISN'T THE RENDER DONE?!"
I pulled the receiver away from my ear. In the background I could hear laughter, glasses clinking, and karaoke music.
That son of a bitch was drunk again.
"The client changed the specs three times," I said, rubbing my temple. "The file is too heavy and—"
"I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR EXCUSES!"
My eyelid twitched.
"If the render isn't ready by six, find yourself another job, idiot. You think I pay you to sleep?"
Sleep.
What a funny word.
I'd been sleeping across two chairs pushed together for three days like a corporate corpse.
I heard him laugh with someone at the bar.
"Oh, and one more thing," he continued. "The client wants a vertical version for social media. By seven."
Silence.
My brain simply stopped working for a second.
Vertical version.
BY SEVEN.
I felt something cold crawl up my left arm.
"...Understood," I murmured.
I hung up.
The office fell silent.
I stared at the frozen monitor.
87%.
My hands started shaking.
Seven years.
Seven goddamn years working sixteen hours a day for a mediocre company that sold smoke with 'motivational' videos for fat executives.
No friends.
No girlfriend.
No family.
Just renders.
Clients.
Revisions.
And cheap coffee.
I let out a dry laugh.
What a garbage life.
Then the pain exploded in my chest.
"...Huh?"
The mug hit the floor.
Coffee spilled over the documents as I grabbed my chest in desperation.
I couldn't breathe.
The floor rushed toward me.
My vision went blurry.
Cold.
Dark.
I raised a trembling hand toward the desk.
The render was still frozen.
87%.
My last thought was absurdly simple.
I didn't even finish the damn video…
And everything went black.
"Shit!"
My eyes snapped open and I jolted upright, gasping.
"What time is it?! The render!"
My head whipped around frantically looking for the office monitor.
It wasn't there.
I blinked.
Sunlight.
A small window.
Cheap curtains.
The smell… wasn't burnt coffee.
It was fabric softener.
And something floral.
I breathed in shallow bursts.
"...Huh?"
Why was the futon so soft?
Why did my body feel wrong?
I tried to get up… and froze.
Something was weighing down my chest.
I looked down.
Silence.
My brain stopped working.
There were… breasts.
Two.
Large.
Soft.
Barely covered by an oversized t-shirt.
I touched them again to make sure.
My mind took a full five seconds to react.
Then I screamed.
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
…
No.
No.
THAT WAS NOT MY VOICE.
I pressed both hands to my throat.
Soft.
Delicate.
High-pitched.
Pretty.
PRETTY.
"No no no no no no no—"
The hands were small too.
Pale.
Way too soft.
The nails were neat.
I got up so fast I nearly killed myself tripping over my own legs.
Why did they feel so light?
Why was my waist…?
I stumbled toward a tiny door at the back of the apartment.
I threw it open.
A minuscule bathroom.
And a mirror.
Then I saw her.
Or rather…
I saw myself.
A girl stared back at me from the reflection.
Silver hair, disheveled, falling to her shoulders.
White skin.
Soft lips.
And enormous, bright violet eyes that looked like they'd been ripped straight out of some absurdly high-budget anime.
My breathing stopped.
She was ridiculously beautiful.
Not in a normal way.
Even messy, she looked dangerously pretty.
My gaze drifted down slowly.
Slender neck.
Delicate collarbone.
Large chest straining against the t-shirt.
Narrow waist.
Long, smooth legs.
My corporate brain ran an automatic analysis before I could stop it.
With a face like this you could farm millions on the internet.
…
…
I grabbed my head.
"WHY WAS THAT MY FIRST THOUGHT?!"
My new voice came out like an adorable shriek.
That made everything worse.
I stumbled back in horror and hit the bathroom wall.
I hyperventilated.
Okay.
Okay.
Calm down.
Maybe I was dreaming.
Right.
Exactly.
A dream.
A nervous breakdown.
I was going to wake up in the office any second now.
Sato-bucho was probably kicking me to finish the render.
Ha.
Ha ha.
…Ha.
Then I looked at the apartment.
Really looked at it.
The kitchen was one miserable burner stuck to the entryway.
Empty instant ramen cups everywhere.
Stacked bills.
Several bags of garbage that hadn't been taken out.
Laundry drying by the window.
And a silence…
Brutal.
How the hell does a girl live like this? It's even worse than my place.
A strange knot formed in my chest.
I slowly opened the fridge.
Empty.
Not even water.
Just a bottle of sauce and half a dried-up lemon.
"..."
My stomach growled.
Violently.
I doubled over slightly from the pain.
What the hell?
When was the last time this girl had eaten?
I closed the fridge slowly.
Then I heard a digital chime inside my head.
PIIING.
"...Huh?"
A purple screen appeared, floating in front of me.
I jumped back.
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
[Premium Creator System Activated!]
[User: Aika Shimizu]
[Creator Level: 1]
[Vitality: 31%]
[Financial Status: CRITICAL]
[Funds Available: ¥3,200]
"What…?"
The text lit up again.
[Initiation Mission Available.]
A new window appeared.
[Mission: Post a selfie winking with your school uniform on and two buttons undone on Lonely Fans]
[Bonus: Mandatory cute smile.]
[Time Limit: 01:59:59]
[Reward: ¥10,000 + partial vitality restoration.]
[Penalty for Failure: Immediate cardiac arrest.]
Silence.
I stared at the screen.
The screen stared back at me.
Then I laughed.
"Sure, okay."
I crossed my arms.
"Very funny. Who made this crap? Some game company? Where are the cameras?"
PIIING.
[Mission is active.]
"I'm not doing that."
[01:59:42]
"No."
[01:59:41]
"I'm a 29-year-old man!"
[Correction: Ren Takahashi is dead. Biologically, you are now an 18-year-old high school girl.]
The air caught in my throat.
"…What?"
[The original Aika Shimizu also died. This body is now yours.]
A chill ran down my spine.
Dead?
Then…
Had I actually died?
I looked at my hands again.
Small.
Delicate.
Feminine.
No.
No, that was absurd.
"Also… did you say Lonely Fans?"
I swallowed slowly.
"That's an adult platform."
The system didn't respond.
I closed my eyes.
Breathed deeply.
Okay.
Ignore it.
This was clearly a hallucination from overwork.
Or some psychopath's reality show.
Right.
Definitely.
I sat down on the futon.
A minute passed.
Two.
Five.
The timer kept ticking down silently.
[01:54:13]
I ignored it.
My stomach growled again.
Much louder.
"Damn…"
I opened the fridge again.
Empty.
Completely empty.
I checked the cabinets. Nothing.
Not even rice.
I dropped back onto the futon and picked up her phone.
Cracked screen.
Several notifications.
Unread messages.
A class group chat.
A class schedule.
'Ouka Municipal High School.'
I blinked.
Then I spotted a saved photo of the school cafeteria menu.
Curry set — ¥480.
My eyes opened slowly.
Hot food.
Cheap.
I felt like crying.
I kept scrolling.
There were messages left unread for days.
Nobody seemed genuinely worried.
Just: "Are you coming today?" "You need to turn in the form." "You skipped again?"
…That felt strangely sad.
Aika really was alone.
PIIING.
[Secondary Mission Activated.]
[Attend school.]
[Time until departure: 32 minutes.]
[Penalty for absence: -¥5,000]
I frowned.
I looked at the clock, then at the available funds.
¥3,200.
"I don't even have five thousand yen!"
Would it put me in debt if I didn't go?
No response.
This is ridiculous…
I need to figure out what the hell is going on.
My stomach growled again.
I'm starving.
This money won't last at all. I think I'll have to go to that school if I want to eat anything.
And maybe I can find some information.
About that life.
About Aika.
"…I hate all of this."
The system screen kept floating in front of me.
[Main Mission Pending.]
[Time Remaining: 01:47:26]
I ignored the timer.
Then I looked at the school uniform folded over a chair.
Gray blazer.
Black skirt.
White dress shirt.
Silence.
My eyes drifted slowly down to my new legs.
…
I was not mentally prepared for this.
I sighed.
"…I'm going to need therapy for the rest of my life."
I picked up the skirt.
And the timer kept ticking down silently.
[01:47:11]