This book is different than the rest of the series that I am working on, it's just a fantasy-fulfilling book, if ykyk. The update schedule for this one will be irregular.

I had always wanted to write something different once in a while, so this one is fresh air for me to breath in, quite new to this type of trope. And it's not a smut book, just a guy trying to survive by cross-dressing, and also getting himself in trouble while doing so...

Enjoy!

The rain cascaded down in thick sheets, slicking the streets of the neon-lit city, the sound of droplets tapping against windows and pavement blending with the distant rumble of thunder.

The clouds were a heavy, swollen mass, crackling with sparks of electricity that streaked across the sky like veins of light.

Yet, despite the ominous weather, the city was far from dark.

The neon glow that clung to every building, every sign, and every street corner illuminated the wet roads, giving them an otherworldly shimmer.

Pinks, blues, and purples flickered, casting vivid reflections that danced in the puddles.

The storm, fierce as it was, seemed a mere backdrop to the pulse of the city.

The streets below were alive with movement, the gleaming cars slipping through the rain-soaked roads like sleek machines in a futuristic dream.

Each brake light flared a deep crimson, casting a ghostly glow through the rain, reflecting off the glossy pavement like droplets of blood in motion.

The city's pulse was unrelenting, but the scene shifted—rising upward, zooming in toward a single apartment window that overlooked the bustling street below.

As the perspective pushed through the glass, the soft hum of the rain outside seemed to fade, replaced by the quiet warmth of the room within.

It was a small apartment, cozy but cluttered with the telltale signs of youth. The boy lay on a low bed, deep in sleep, his breathing steady, undisturbed by the storm. His room told a story all its own.

The shelves on the wall were filled to the brim with action figures, comic books, and old gaming consoles—dust collecting in the crevices of controllers that were abandoned long ago.

A few trophies, some tarnished with age, stood among the collection, likely remnants from school sports or competitions. He was quite an active boy when he was in high school.

Shoes were scattered across the floor in a chaotic array, sneakers mostly, some with their laces undone, others tossed carelessly under the bed.

Near the bed, a simple wooden table stood, the surface cluttered with a mix of schoolbooks, half-done homework, and stray pens.

A crumpled energy drink can be sat beside an open notebook, hastily scribbled notes visible under the dim light. A set of wireless headphones hung carelessly over the corner of the table, their blinking lights signaling they needed a charge.

Dominating one corner of the room was a sleek gaming PC, its tower bathed in the soft glow of RGB lights that cycled through a spectrum of neon hues, matching the city outside.

The curved monitor displayed the boy's desktop—a wallpaper of some fantasy world, dragons soaring through pixelated skies. The keyboard, mechanical and backlit, had keys worn smooth.

A gaming mouse, wired and battle-scarred, rested beside it. A pair of bulky gaming headphones lay neatly on a hook above the desk, their pristine condition suggesting they were a prized possession.

The closet, slightly ajar, revealed a row of hanging clothes—mostly hoodies, graphic tees, and jackets, all in muted tones of black and grey.

A few pairs of jeans were folded haphazardly on the shelf above, while the lower section was packed with more shoes, stacked unevenly atop each other, some still in their boxes.

The window, which had let the perspective enter, was tall and wide, framed by thin curtains that hung loosely on either side.

The glass was streaked with rain, blurring the view of the neon-lit city outside.

The distant glow of billboards and streetlights filtered into the room, casting faint, multicolored patterns across the walls, a dazzling interplay of light and shadow that moved in time with the flickering lights beyond.

The boy slept on, peaceful amidst the chaos of his room and the storm outside, wrapped in the quiet hum of electronics and the distant rhythm of the city.

The moment's tranquility was almost mesmerizing—just a boy, resting deeply, the rhythm of his breathing in sync with the patter of rain outside.

It was the kind of peace that came after long, exhausting days at the University, the rush of commuting, and the relentless grind of assignments. His body was draped in thick, soft sheets, enveloped in sleep comfort.

The hum of electronics, the distant pulse of the city's neon lights, and the steady rain all contributed to a world that felt momentarily frozen in its serenity.

Then, without warning, a voice—not from the room, not from outside, but from somewhere else entirely—shattered the stillness.

"[Commencing awakening protocol, please host, wake up.]"

The voice was mechanical, yet oddly soothing, with a strange authority behind it.

The boy's eyes snapped open in a heartbeat, wide with confusion.

He lay there, disoriented, his body still caught in the transition from sleep to wakefulness.

His mind struggled to process what had just happened.

Or whatever he had just heard. Like a muffled voice that had called out from the other side of the mirror, he was oblivious and also half-aware of the words.

"Huh?" he muttered, his voice low and groggy, still half-lost in the remnants of his dream.

He blinked a few times, trying to orient himself.

His body shifted beneath the weight of the sheets, his shoes—still on for some reason—dragging against the fabric.

He rolled over to his back, the creaking of the old wooden bed frame cutting through the quiet room.

The sound was sharp, as though even the furniture was reacting to the abrupt disturbance.

He slowly pushed himself up, still tangled in his sheets, his mind racing between half-conscious thoughts.

What had he just heard?

It made no sense—none of it did.

Am I still dreaming about Mr. David's huge nose?

Hell, why am I even dreaming about that?

Is this dream still related somehow?

The rain outside continued to fall, tapping lightly against the window, but inside the room, something had shifted.

With a final creak from the bed, he sat upright, scanning the room cautiously.

Everything looked the same, his cluttered shelves, the glowing lights from his gaming PC, the rain-slicked window casting neon shadows on the walls.

The voice hadn't returned yet, but he felt strange.

"I was sure that I heard something... is it the same thing again?" he muttered, his voice barely louder than the soft patter of rain against the window.

His breath, now visible in the dim room, turned into a thin, frosty vapor, hanging in the air like a whisper of winter creeping in.

The temperature had shifted subtly, unnoticed until now, and his eyes flicked nervously across the room—first to the shelves filled with toys and books, then to the glowing window streaked with rain, and finally to the open door of his room.

The old door carpet cradled below, with some gashes left on the old yellow plank beneath.

It wasn't unusual for the door to be open. He often left it that way without thinking, like most boys his age.

The grogginess from his sudden awakening clung to him, pulling at the edges of his consciousness, and he was still too disoriented to fully grasp what was happening.

He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, a half-hearted attempt to shake off the sleep as he muttered, "Probably just some random noise."

The chill in the air and the strange voice faded into the background of his thoughts as he shrugged off his unease.

He tugged at the thick sheets, pulling them back over himself as he shifted, preparing to sink back into the warm comfort of his bed.

His body leaned sideways, elbow supporting him as he began to lay down, this time on his left side.

His focus was dull, his thoughts fuzzy as he let himself descend back into the embrace of the soft mattress.

But just as his eyes grazed the open door, something stopped him.

"[Unsuitable behavior detected, quest unlocked.]"

The voice returned, clearer this time, cutting through the fog of his mind.

His muscles tensed as he froze halfway to lying down, a groan of frustration escaping his lips.

"Huh?" he groaned, his breath heavy, the grogginess mixing with a growing sense of confusion.

His black hair, wild and unkept, fell into his eyes as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

This time, though, something caught his eye.

It wasn't the door he had been looking at seconds ago—no, it was something else entirely.

It hovered there, glowing softly against the dimly lit room—a strange, floating blue screen that seemed completely out of place in this world.

"What the hell..." he gasped, the words slipping out without thought.

His body tensed instinctively, but despite the shock, he found himself still nestled in the warm cocoon of his sheets.

The warmth mattered more, surprisingly so.

It was as if the weight of the moment, of the bizarre apparition, hadn't fully sunk in—or perhaps he was simply too tired to react with the appropriate panic.

It was strange, almost unnatural, how calm he felt in the face of something so wildly out of the ordinary.

Anyone else would have jumped out of bed, freaked out, or at least gotten to their feet in alarm.

But not him.

No, his body remained stubbornly wrapped in the comfort of the bed, his breath still slow and steady despite the chaos unraveling before him.

There was no rush to flee, no urgency to understand what was happening.

Instead, a dry chuckle slipped from his lips, the kind that comes when you're too tired to be properly afraid.

"Do I have to do this?" he muttered, his voice laced with resignation.

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stared at the floating panel, the light from the screen casting a soft blue glow across his face.

[Yes host, it's time to become a goddess] The system replied cheerfully.

"Life sucks... "

[I will make it brighter] :)

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stared at the floating panel, the light from the screen casting a soft blue glow across his face.

The smile wasn't one of joy or excitement—it was the kind that only came when faced with something too absurd to take seriously.

Yet, deep down, there was a quiet despair growing in his chest.

"[The system is fully bound to the host for eternity.]"

The words appeared on the panel, clear and unyielding, driving the message home with a cold finality.

"Eternity, huh..." he mumbled, staring at the words with a bitter chuckle.

"I wonder how long eternity is? Maybe a million years?"

With a sigh, he let his head fall back onto the pillow, eyes still fixed on the screen.

It wasn't that he didn't want to resist.

It was that he felt utterly powerless to do so.

Deep down, he knew this world was anything but simple. The blue screen before him wasn't a new occurrence.

It had first appeared on his fifteenth birthday, a day he had hoped would be special, even if he was alone in his room enjoying it on his own.

He remembered the joy of unwrapping a gift to himself—a new game, a small celebration of one.

But that happiness had shattered in an instant when the screen flickered into view, bright and impossible.

His initial reaction had been pure panic.

He had screamed, calling out to no one, desperately hoping that someone else could see the absurdity unfolding in front of him.

The fear had been overwhelming, a tidal wave crashing over the joy of the moment.

He had rushed to check mirrors, glanced at his phone, and shouted for help, seeking validation in a world that felt suddenly surreal.

In a frantic attempt to rid himself of this strange phenomenon, he had even sought the help of a shaman, spending hundreds of dollars in the hopes that the arcane arts of a liar could provide some solution.

The shaman had muttered incantations and waved crystals, but no matter what he did, the system remained.

Well, a shaman and a scammer, what are the differences?

Hell, even if there's a slight chance of it working out, he will try it without batting an eye to the consequences no matter how stupid it may sound to other people's ears.

That's not only it, it would appear out of nowhere, constantly reminding him that his actions didn't align with some bizarre standard of "certain behavior"

Quests kept popping up, messages urging him to act, to change, but he brushed them aside with growing indifference.

Over time, the constant barrage of reminders dulled his senses.

He grew numb to the strangeness, shoving the reality of it deep into the recesses of his mind, denying the weight it added to his existence.

Now, as he stared at the floating blue panel, a familiar sense of futility washed over him.

He knew that this world wasn't a normal place at hand, well to be precise this world wasn't what he was used to.

It was as sudden as it was, a thunder that pierced the sky and a sleepless night of trying to win in a game on his pc.

And the next morning, everything changed and also nothing changed.

It must have sounded crazy right? Yes, the world is crazy.

The number of the population has been boosted by a ridiculous amount, can you comprehend it? There are over 2.4 trillion humans that are currently living on this planet, how is that even possible? Wouldn't that be an impossible feat to achieve, and we the human race did?

As he looked outside the window, what came into his view was much more butchered urbanization and also modernization.

Towering buildings are scattered throughout the view, and roads are layered repeatedly.

The pace of the technology didn't change much but somehow managed to hold this much population on god knows ways.

Well, it's a way if he must say so.

In this world, some are called the awakeners, people with powers that could turn the sea and pluck the stars in the sky.

It is as those words on the internet had said so. He had seen videos of humans fighting against monsters in the forest, in the sea, and in other places.

As for more information, it was classified.

The fact that this planet had expanded countless times to accommodate all of this strangeness was revealed to the public, and for more information, it was hidden by the government.

Where did those monsters come from?

Why did the world suddenly expand so much?

How did humans gain the awakening power?

The answers to these questions were hidden from public view. Perhaps only those awakeners knew the answer to these.

The system did surprise him, but it died down almost gradually given the changes in the world that had taken place.

"The world is weird, and a strange system is telling me to act like a girl every time it can" The boy messes with his hair in front of the mirror, combing his uneven terrace over his head, a deep black hue that mirrored before him.

And to add to that, he will be entering his senior year tomorrow and also the important day of awakener trials the next week.

Where billions of students from all over the world will undertake an awakening test that will either change their lives for the most part or remain normal like the rest forever.

"Hell..." he grumbled, his gaze drifting over the messy table, littered with crumpled papers and empty energy drink cans.

It was a small refuge from chaos in a world that felt increasingly out of his control. "Can I not just go and just stay in my room all the time" The words slipped out, laced with a bitter humor that felt more like a defense mechanism than genuine hope.

He is an orphan, losing both his parents in a certain mission that they had taken years before.

Yes, their parents were an awakener, though he didn't have that many feelings towards them as in his prior world, his parents were a bit too "physically abusive"

And since they are gone, he felt nothing of their presence other than a simple thank you, since the government will pay him plenty every month as a means of payment incentive for his deceased awakened parents.

His eyes wandered back to his reflection in the screen, taking in the face staring back at him—a spotless visage that many would envy.

His skin was clear, almost luminescent like a crystal lake catching the sunlight.

And then there was his hair, long and cascading down to his shoulders, framing his face in a way that felt strangely alien.

It had once been a rebellious choice, but now it seemed as if the system was reshaping him without his consent, slowly morphing him into something he barely recognized.

"It's changing me, slowly," he muttered.

No matter how many times he cut his hair, it always grew back, lush and vibrant, as if it had a mind of its own. Each snip of the scissors was like a fleeting rebellion, only to be undone in the blink of an eye, much like the fairy tale of Cinderella's magical transformation.

But instead of a glamorous change, he felt trapped in a narrative that blurred the lines between reality and some surreal fantasy he hadn't chosen.

"Fuck me..." he cursed, the frustration bubbling to the surface.

It was the first curse of the day, and it felt oddly liberating, even if just for a moment.

He ran a hand through his hair, fingers combing through the soft strands, but the dead look was apparent.

"Might as well, just go along and live my life as it is... "

"Becoming a girl, huh?" his eyes gleamed under the uttered words, with a single brush over his head that pulled his hair to the back, revealing a spotless face that was different compared to the years before.

He leaned back against the headboard, feeling the weight of his newfound confusion rather appalling and also... exciting. But the latter would be hidden deep down inside his mind.

The blue screen still hovered in his periphery, a reminder that there was no escaping this new reality.

Despite its presence, he gave no attention to it and resumed his business.

And after some time, he sighed heavily.

With that, he finally let go of his resistance against the strange system that had invaded his life for the past two years.

Denial had been his refuge, but it was time to face the reality that had become his existence.

The system had haunted him, a relentless presence that refused to fade, and the weight of that truth settled heavily on his shoulders.

But this system might also be the one key for him to climb higher in this strange world.

If given the chance, who would refuse the opportunity to rise above the others?

No matter how depraved and ugly the path might be, he is willing to take it.

"It's time for a stroll then," he muttered under his breath, pushing the comforting weight of the sheets aside.

"I hope it won't rain tonight"

His legs dangled over the edge of the bed, barely brushing the soft quilt below.

At 158 cm tall, he was shorter than most of his peers, something that occasionally gnawed at him, though he often told himself height wasn’t everything.

A small lie to keep the insecurities at bay—convincing himself that he didn’t look too much like a sissy compared to his taller, broader friends at school.

It was a fragile shield, but it worked most days.

He trudged to the edge of the bed, feeling as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff, the warm, cozy bed beneath him like a haven he didn’t want to leave.

Kicking off his bed shoes, he rearmed his feet with a pair of bunny indoor slippers—soft and fluffy, a guilty pleasure he never spoke of aloud.

They were absurdly cute, but the comfort they provided was unmatched, and he allowed himself this small joy, even as a slight nudge of embarrassment tugged at his mind.

With a resigned sigh, he stood up—well, not too tall—then made his way to the closet on the far side of the room.

The doors creaked as he opened them, revealing two distinct sections of clothing within.

The closet itself was a project he'd crafted with his own hands: simple woodworking, a few screws, and basic tools lying around the house.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was his, and that gave him a quiet sense of pride.

To the left, a dense array of male clothes hung, tightly packed together—hoodies, shirts, jeans, all carefully folded or draped.

Standard stuff, all of it plain and designed to fit in.

To the right, however, was a different story. A set of clothing far more personal, far more true to who he was, hung there, almost untouched.

Feminine, soft, vibrant—skirts, blouses, delicate fabrics that he had bought in secret and rarely dared to wear outside the confines of his room.

Each piece was a quiet rebellion against the rigid image he projected to the world, a small sliver of freedom he'd kept hidden for far too long.

"I wasn't like this before... " He sighed.

"But instead of wearing male clothes and being mistaken as a tomboy all the time... " He uttered, a faint hesitation tugging at the corner of his mind, but then it was forced and coerced away under an invisible hand.

And he continued his usually unspoken thoughts "Might as well dress up as one and cheat idiotic men some money while pretending to like them"

There is it...

The other side of his that he usually doesn't show on the surface.

Well, he is afraid to do so. The fear of being rejected by society or even facing the consequences of the said act and many more he had in mind.

That was the final string that he feared might occur if he were to delve too deep into this closet identity.

He stared at the right side of the closet, his reflection faintly visible in the door’s glass panel.

His long, unkempt hair framed his face, giving him an androgynous look that he had come to accept, even if reluctantly at first.

The system had pushed him—no, *forced* him—to embrace this transformation, slowly and steadily.

He had fought it, resisted the changes at every turn, but now… he realized he couldn’t deny it any longer.

"It's time to be true to myself, huh..." he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though saying it louder would make it too real.

His hand hovered over the clothes on the right, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric.

It was soft, inviting, and felt more like *him* than the bulky, oversized hoodies on the other side.

There was no going back now—not when the system had bound itself to him, not when he had already started to change in ways he couldn’t control.

Maybe, just maybe, accepting this side of himself wouldn’t be as terrifying as he had once thought.

"Enjoying life a bit won't hurt, and also... maybe this system can help me on the path of the awakeners"

Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the outfit.

"Oh btw, I am not gay"

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Mize stood before the mirror, the weight of the dress settling around his slim frame as he adjusted the collar that hugged his neck.

The black fabric was sleek, flowing down his body in elegant folds. The dress was long, reaching down to his ankles, its dark hue as deep and rich as the night sky.

It clung to his slender form in just the right places, accentuating his graceful silhouette, while the subtle pleats at the waist gave it a soft, flowing movement.

The collar, high and adorned with delicate silver embroidery, added a regal touch as if it had been plucked straight from the wardrobe of a medieval noblewoman.

The shoes he had chosen—a short-heeled pair made of polished wood and smooth leather—were an odd, anachronistic choice in a world where fashion had evolved into a strange blend of medieval and modern aesthetics.

The heels clicked softly against the tiled bathroom floor as he turned slightly, admiring the way they matched the elegance of the dress without detracting from its simplicity.

Around his wrists were thin silver bangles, each one delicately etched with intricate designs that caught the light whenever he moved.

A single black ribbon was tied around his waist, a small but striking contrast against the flowing fabric of the dress, cinching his figure.

His long hair, smooth and dark, fell down his back in a cascade, brushing against the collar and framing his face with an effortless beauty.

He ran his fingers through it, pushing it over his shoulders so it could fall more naturally, its silky strands adding to the femininity of his overall appearance.

His face, however, was the centerpiece of the reflection that stared back at him. His skin was flawless, a porcelain-like smoothness that gave him an ethereal, almost doll-like beauty.

His cheekbones were high, his lips full and naturally tinted with a soft pink hue. But it was his eyes that drew the most attention—their ruby-red irises glinting in the dim light of the bathroom.

They gleamed with an unnatural vibrancy, a striking contrast to his otherwise serene expression, and gave him an alluring look.

They were like two jewels set in the soft contours of his face, a reminder of the strange system that had changed him over time.

He stared at himself for a long moment, taking in every detail.

The transformation was undeniable. In this dress, with his long hair and soft features, he looked nothing like the boy he had been two years ago.

One could easily mistake him for some random pretty girl on the street, just living her life normally, going to the mall, to the cafe, and so on.

**[Ding, gained 100 points]**

The familiar sound echoed in his mind, interrupting his thoughts.

He hardly flinched at it now, having grown accustomed to the system's existence.

Over the last two years, without even fully realizing it, he had been accumulating points through these subtle changes, through this strange hobby of dressing up and embracing the feminine aspects of his appearance.

He wasn’t even sure how many points he had anymore, but the system had never made much sense to him in the first place.

Mize sighed, deciding to open the system panel for the very first time.

The translucent blue square materialized before him, hovering in the air with its cold, digital glow.