I'm Not a Pervert!
On my way home after finishing my shift at the convenience store, I spotted Marie and Spica out on patrol. Lately, there'd been a noticeable uptick in heroes patrolling the streets—not just these two. And nine times out of ten, I was probably the reason.
Werewolves were typically treated as A-rank monsters, though each one varied. Their immense strength and razor-sharp claws could slice through steel like tofu. Their thick, tough hides and solid muscles shrugged off most attacks. On top of that, they were quick and agile, with zombie-like regeneration that healed organ damage in no time. Worst of all? These beasts disguised themselves as humans, blending into society. With a high-threat monster like that spotted—and then vanishing—heroes were bound to be on high alert, patrolling with sharpened senses. It was only natural.
That said, I wasn't particularly worried. I hadn't transformed since that day, and I had no plans to unless absolutely necessary. The werewolf they were hunting wouldn't show up again. No reason for me to fear the heroes.
"Kyaa! You're Spica and Marie, right? Can I get a photo?"
"Uh? Sure. Of course."
Heroes sure were popular. People swarmed them, making a fuss and saying hello. Even during patrol, Marie and Spica stopped now and then to snap pics with what looked like fans. In a world where real monsters existed—and heroes fought them—heroes held celebrity-level status and fame. Plenty appeared on TV shows, dramas, ads. Many even had personal YouTube channels, uploading footage of their monster battles.
Recognition was key for heroes, and in this era of booming internet and SNS, operating like idols was just the natural flow. But it wasn't all good. With big bucks from broadcasting and personal channels, more heroes sidelined actual hero work for entertainment gigs. It had become a social issue; critics pointed out that heroes' overall quality had dipped compared to the past, with too many chasing fame.
There'd even been a huge scandal when a video leaked of a hero begging a villain for their life. Seeing these real-world societal debates—stuff novels usually glossed over—left a strange taste in my mouth. Reality's got problems everywhere you go.
Lost in those thoughts, I walked past Marie and Spica on their patrol.
The house I lived in was pretty remote. The kind of rundown slum alley they called a dal-dongne—no shops around, quiet and dark. On a cloudy night like tonight, with moonlight scarce, only the sporadic streetlamps pushed back the shadows.
Something felt extra eerie today, like a ghost might pop out any second. Come to think of it, in a world with monsters, maybe ghosts existed too. Not that I'd want to meet one. I hated ghosts. Scared me shitless. Even as a werewolf now, that hadn't changed. Monsters I could smash; ghosts? No such luck.
Mulling that over as I walked, I spotted a pitch-black silhouette under the streetlamp ahead. Definitely not human. Too tall for that. And even in the light, its shape was indistinct—like darkness sculpted into a person. Chills exploded across my skin.
Fuck. A real ghost? They say if you mention a tiger, one appears—but ghosts aren't tigers.
My body froze, trembling, unable to move. Then glowing eyes flashed open on its forehead and mouth area, blinking at me. Its belly split wide with a rip, revealing jagged, irregular teeth.
Not a ghost—a monster. Relief. ...Not really. Less scary now that I knew, but I still had to run. There was some distance to the lamppost where it stood, so I figured bolt now—
But it was suddenly right in front of me, looming down, smacking its lips with that gut-mouth.
Crunch, twist. Bones warped, frame and muscles swelled. No time for thought—instinct took over, transforming me. Claws slashed out, bisecting the monster. Even halved, it writhed. Creepy as hell. I stomped it into pulp with my feet until it stopped.
I'd just sworn not to transform unless desperate, and here I was again. But this was unavoidable—die otherwise. At least no one saw; I reverted right after, hoping to stay hidden.
Transformation shredded my clothes, leaving me buck-naked. Cool wind on bare skin raised goosebumps. This sucks. House wasn't far; sprint before anyone sees—
"Kyaaaaah! Pervert!!!"
Of course someone spotted me nude. They missed the transform, thank god, but this was bad enough.
"Wait! Misunderstanding! I'm not a pervert!"
Should've bolted home. Panicking, I chased the screaming woman to explain. No clue what to even say.
"Kyaa! Stay back! Help! Murderer!"
"What, perverts go around killing now? Why's that coming from you!"
She freaked and ran; naked me gave chase. Total pervert vibes, but I wasn't thinking straight.
"Freeze."
"Agh!"
Someone snuck up behind, tackled me, pinned me down, twisted my arm. Glancing back: patrol hero Marie.
"Haa... Monsters got us stressed enough; now perverts?"
"I'm not a pervert!"
"All perverts say that."
"Then what?!"
"Common sense: midnight, deserted street, dick flopping around, chasing a woman naked. What else is that?"
Flopping? Spot-on phrasing. I was furious but got it—if roles reversed, I'd nab me too. No excuse fit.
"Don't resist. Stay put. Calling cops now."
Doomed. Vowed normal life in this novel; now jailbird. Why'd it go south? Transform to shake her? Useless—she'd seen my face. Kill her? No way.
Stuck pondering prison in a novel-isekai when—
"Monster! A monster appeared!!"
A shout from afar: monster sighting. Perfect timing.
"Ugh! Now?!"
Marie hesitated, but duty won over pervert; she hopped off.
"Stay there! I remember your face—don't run!"
She dashed toward the noise. Whew, aged a decade. Stay? As if. Not a pervert or idiot. Once she vanished from sight, I bolted home.
Dressed at last, tension eased. Transformations always spelled trouble. Brief this time, but Marie's patrol from last mess caught me. Be more careful next time. Best no transform, but unavoidable repeats happen.
"Thank you. Goodbye."
Next day, clocked in at the convenience store as usual, killing time on my phone at the counter. Closing time neared; day passed quietly, no incidents. News online: monster sightings spiking lately. Made sense—I'd faced two recently. Frequent even for a monster world.
"World's gone wild. Can't relax anywhere."
"Tell me about it. So scary. Perverts roaming free? End times."
"Ah, welco—"
Phone distracted me; missed the customer. My mutter embarrassed me; stood to greet—
...Why you here?
"Hello, pervert? I said I remembered your face—don't run, right?"