The Witch of the Academy
[Ding-ding-ding~ Good morning~ Ding-ding-]
I reflexively moved my hand to silence the alarm ringing by my bedside. I don’t know who composed that track, but it’s certainly effective at forcing someone awake. If I had to listen to the pa-pa-pa sound that follows, the sheer stress would be enough to kill any desire to lounge in bed; my body seems to react to it automatically. By the way, I feel like my body temperature is higher than usual. Is this the aftermath of binge-reading novels until dawn? Back when I was a student, I could pull all-nighters and still be perfectly fine at school, but seeing how a few extra years have made such a direct impact on my health makes me realize I’m really getting old. I didn’t think much of it before, but looking back now, I suppose being a student really was the best time.
That’s why the novels I read these days are heavily focused on the academy genre. Of course, I went to an all-boys school, so I never had the chance to mingle with cute girls like they do in the stories, but that’s exactly why you end up thinking, "If only I could have spent my school days like that." I was quite the academy-novel enthusiast, and I’d even go out of my way to read the less popular works. [Academy’s Holy Swordsman], which I finished reading until dawn yesterday, was one of those.
I think its decent writing and charming characters were relatively buried due to the dark atmosphere and the constant stream of adversity that killed off supporting characters. I personally prefer a lighter, more bubbly atmosphere, but I was so immersed in watching the protagonist and the heroine overcome their hardships that I raced to the ending in one sitting. And then, I got hit with a massive sucker punch.
After all those hardships, the author pushed the protagonist and the heroine—who had finally reached the final stage—into an inescapable pinch, wrote a single line in the final chapter, [Would you be able to save them if it were you?], and just ended it. I was dizzy. My inner reader’s instinct was screaming at me to send a 5,700-character protest email to that wicked author, but as a genre-novel fan, I was too timid to do anything other than leave a comment: [That’s... "Evande" (a bit much/too much)......]. It wasn’t even a hiatus; this is the first time since "This bastard is laughing?" that I’ve felt so frustrated by an incomplete ending... Thinking about it makes me angry all over again.
Perhaps that’s why my body feels even hotter than before. I opened my eyes and sat up, thinking I should take a shower, but something was blindingly bright. Is the sunlight too strong? I frowned and lowered my head, only to realize my body was on fire. Not metaphorically—physically.
I let out a stupid sound, "Eh?" and blinked, wondering if I was still dreaming, but that only lasted a moment. I figured if I was on fire, I should put it out, so I went to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Then, I was startled.
The water was freezing cold!
I quickly turned the lever to the left, waited for the water to warm up, and stood there blankly while showering, but for some reason, the flames on my body wouldn't go out. Am I going to turn into a Meramon like this? As I was thinking that, I felt something strange and glanced down, only to realize a shocking fact.
I was showering with my clothes on.
Setting aside the question of why my clothes were perfectly fine while my body was burning, the fact that I was an idiot who showered while wearing clothes pierced my heart like a dagger. As my mood plummeted, the flames that had been roaring on my body miraculously flickered out. That was when the curvaceous body I’d been trying to ignore since I woke up finally came into full view. Honestly, I’d already guessed the situation from the moment I was on fire, but of all things...
I tried to stay calm, turned off the water, and stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom. The mirror reflected a beautiful girl with red hair and red eyes, her clothes soaked through and clinging to her body, revealing every line. Under normal circumstances, I would have admired the beautiful yet erotic sight, but realizing it was me gave me a very different feeling.
"Of all things..."
My heart aches at the sound of my own unnecessarily pretty voice. Being dragged into a novel’s world is a common cliché, but TS (gender-bender) is a niche genre. In a fantasy novel, you can’t even make a living by streaming. If that’s the case, what is the point of being a TS character? ...What? "Female corruption?" I don’t know what you’re talking about.
If I had ranted at the author, "I cannot accept this ending!" or had some narcissistic thought like, "I could have done better if it were me," I could understand, but that wasn’t the case. So why do I have to go through this, with my gender changed, of all things?
While I was frustrated with reality, my body was moving diligently. I took off my soaked clothes and dried my hair and body with a towel. My hair was unnecessarily long, making it hard to dry. After drying off, I changed into the clothes hanging on the rack. It was the school uniform worn by the character on the cover of [Academy’s Holy Swordsman], which I had read yesterday. I felt a resistance to the short skirt, but in the end, I had no choice but to compromise with the times.
There were the moderately swollen breasts that insisted this was a female body. Even when I lifted the skirt slightly to check, there was nothing but emptiness below. I sighed and reached into the skirt pocket, and sure enough, there was a student ID. And as I glanced at the student ID, I felt sparks scattering from my hair. I suppose my body catches fire when my emotions run high. I was quite pissed off at the moment, after all.
The student ID had the face I’d seen in the mirror, and in the name field, it was written like this:
[Scarlet Evande]
"Evande..."
I was certain the author must have been a massive coward.