I Can Control Grand Orca!
I... I can control Grand Orca! ▼
I come home, take a shower, and melt into a languid haze. Well, not really languid at all, but I'm just going through the motions. I've been floating around aimlessly for a while, pretending to be an air purifier, when it's time to grab some ice cream from the fridge and head to my room. Plop right onto the bed. Bathed in purification magic, I smell amazing, and my mood loosens into a fluffy bliss. I roll over into my usual lazy pose and rest the ice cream on my breast cushion, just like always. I scoop up the white, sweet ice cream and pop it into my mouth. Nom nom. This body has tons of perks, but another big one is that my teeth never get sensitive. Back in my fat, sickly uncle days, hot or cold food would always make them ache. Not to mention they were all crooked and uneven. Now, with these neat, tidy teeth, I'm invincible even shoveling ice cream back and forth! And brushing? Nah, one snap of purification and it's fresh as ever. That yellow, cracked tongue from my uncle days is now cute, pink, and moist.
Two months after the incident. Getting deep into my hobbies seems to have made my life a bit more upstanding. Sure, it's soaked in blood and flesh, but isn't that just the life of an Awakened Ability User? The media hypes up the glamour, wealth, and fame, but in the end, we're just miners or butchers digging up mana stones from monsters. I smash mine to bits, though. Anyway, I'm society's outcast with a hobby of slaying monsters—that's the gist. Went from jobless hikikomori to monster slayer. Should I get business cards made? Kihihi.
Time flies, and the dysphoria with this body has faded quite a bit. Lucky I haven't dealt with periods or anything. Way more comfortable than my wrecked uncle days. I scoop a big dollop of ice cream into my mouth and chew on the spoon. With a relaxed gaze at the dropped monitor, I type with telekinesis.
My message gets swept away in the chat wave in no time, but for a hikikomori who couldn't even reply once, this is a huge leap forward. After the incident, I've felt this one-sided closeness to Grand Orca and started watching her streams. I used to just see clips, but live streams have a different vibe—less stimulating, but kinda addictive in their own way. Before I knew it, I was donating and chatting. Circulating my excess cash back into society—pretty upstanding, right? Another upstanding change: I go outside more now. Haven't shown my bare face without a mask, though. No run-ins with pervy uncles or stalkers either. Lucky this neighborhood's quiet. And no encounters with a Gold Sun type, either. I poked around this world's subculture out of suspicion, but no Gold Sun character exists. Just blonde tanned thugs getting done dirty in guy-oriented stuff. Nothing but blonde tanned Yankee gals getting wrecked. Why's Gold Sun always the one taking it? Originally, sho... Ahem. Well, maybe digging into the niche depths would turn something up. But hey, could I pioneer the Gold Sun genre? Draw a story about a girl dating her childhood friend, gets chummy with Gold Sun, then 'transforms'? Kihihi.
Shaking off idle thoughts, I watch Harang's stream. She's coffin-ing again today. Two months of non-stop coffins. Serious coffin addiction—that's why they call her Grave Girl. Still, watching's more fun than playing myself. Maybe 'cause her flailing around with her skills is cute. Or fights are just more enjoyable as a spectator. I sent a dono right as her match ended and she took a break.
"Ah! Th-thank you so much for the million won donation, Alboom! J-just a sec."
Kihihi. I catch her happy capitalist smile glitching slightly on the 2D avatar. A million makes her speech all prim and proper! If a million makes Harang happy, I'm satisfied. After a brief wait, Harang's 2D avatar switches to 3D. The high-quality custom 3D one she bragged about finishing recently. Not a 3D stream day, but cash talks. The miracle of technology! Or monetization? The chat's buzzing, thrilled to see her embarrassed. She said it was a big investment on a whim—original 3D avatars must be pricey here too. Aside from slight deform on the face, it's Grand Orca herself. Yet she insists she's not. Sad 30-something.
"Ha... Harang Love, your cute battle fairy~♡ I'm Harang~♡"
Her avatar throws finger hearts and does an adorable twitchy pose. ♡ auto-pop on screen. Her trembling embarrassment is delicious. Claiming fairy over magical girl to differentiate from Grand Orca—pitiful 30-something. Everyone loses it in delight. Other magical girls have shame, unlike me. 3D makes it obvious.
I... I can control Grand Orca!Kihihi. She must've thought no one would pay a million for that pose. But human malice knows no bounds. A million's chump change against that desire! A million barely buys ten pairs of panties here anyway?
"Ah, Alboom, another million won—thank you! W-well then."
"Un...! Thank you for the million, Leo. W-wait a sec!"
Behold, the evil of humans hurling cash for Harang's cute embarrassment! Too bad poses only go to 3—daily shame limit reached. Wish she'd do it more. At least it'll be clipped to YouTube forever. Exclusive thrill clashes with wanting more eyes on it! Hurry with DLC, Harang! Totally scammed by her salesmanship, I swing mega-flashes of mana to cheer her poses. Watching her chain them all, cover her face in shame—bam, 'KissKissLove10' drops her theme song with ten grand. True to the milf hero juggling ten IDs in invincible clone jutsu. Demon King Harang casts banish on the hero outside the battlefield. I spectate, scooping ice cream. She never perma-bans. System auto-kicks real toxicity maybe. Chat's fun to watch anyway. 3D's great—vivid, punchy impact. Kihihi. ▼
The trash bin's full. I could purify it, but that feels too inhuman, so I take it out for the vibe. Routines make life feel lived. Ice cream tubs compressed into neat cubes fill the bag. Looks heavy. Light for me, though. Bag sagging like it'll burst—hope the collector doesn't curse. All premium ice cream—how much did that cost? Don't sweat it anymore. No milk ice cream like back home; similar ones discontinued. Found domestic luxury milk flavors, stocked the freezer with the best. Green, green. Dawn delivery Green. Jingle pops in my head. Could refill with restoration magic, but too inhuman—skipping that. Gotta spend on hobbies. Hero gig as a hobby might bald me anyway. No more cola. No more dumplings. Ice cream's my meal now—savoring taste and texture. Normal for TS to shift tastes, right? Bag's ripping, so I tape it up. Overkill? Nah, experimenting limits, trial and error—now I roll decent dice. Self-incinerate? Too much. Bag smells nice post-purify. Shakes with fun rattles. Rattle rattle. I pig out on a tub lying down. Purify the empty clean. Lid, wrapper, tub—smush into die. Round edges slightly—perfect. Trash, but throws with a crisp clack. Over-compress and mana mutation makes monster matter—watch it. Thus, I gained the sub-job of Garbage Dice Artisan. Lately, tuning faces to engrave numbers. Pattern combos for cool designs lift my mood. Bag secured, hat on, hooded jacket zipped. Weather still a tad chilly? Clothes for me are more cover anyway. Mask up, slippers on, grab the taut bag. Out the door light as ever! Now even the gate's easy! Heading to the spot a bit from the gate—air drops heavy. Acrid stench pierces the mask. I hold my breath.