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The me in the mirror wore a thoroughly unimpressed expression.

I scratched my cheek, suddenly embarrassed. My skin had always been so pale that the flush rising in my face was impossible to hide.

"Th-this doesn't feel right."

What I had on was a soft monochrome dress in a single muted color. I'd picked it because the fabric looked ordinary enough and the cut didn't seem revealing—but the dress clung more than I'd expected, and I was painfully aware of every line of my body.

I should have known the moment people started calling it a "new city look" and raving about how popular it was.

A waist that dipped sharply beneath a chest that refused to be ignored. Then the curve of my hips and rear rising again, tracing an elegant silhouette. Combined with a face that still looked too young, a strange, guilty heat began to curl up inside me.

"No. This is definitely not happening."

The solid-color dress was out.

The room was drowning in clothes, and yet I still hadn't managed to get past my underwear. A cruel irony.

I'd agreed to meet people. I didn't want to show up looking like a mess. It was a celebration of Gawol's Arena championship, and it had been so long since I'd seen anyone in person. I had no intention of rolling out the door looking like I was just popping down to the convenience store.

But maybe it was because I usually lived in baggy clothes. Or maybe it was simply that I hadn't stood in front of a mirror in far too long. The moment I put something on and faced my reflection, every scrap of courage in me vanished clean away.

In times like these, the only place I could turn was the internet. I searched and searched, but nothing quite landed.

After more than two hours of open warfare with my wardrobe, all I had to show for it was a catastrophically wrecked room—and a completely demolished search algorithm.

This was getting dangerous. Clothes ads were popping up everywhere I looked. Even on the video platform that used to be nothing but game content, channels I'd never seen before were shoving their way into my feed.

Fashion, I could understand—I'd brought that on myself. But cosmetics? I'd never searched for those once.

Still. No makeup. That was my last shred of pride as a man.

I scrolled down ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a little further and the recommended video cheerfully announced something like If you're a girl who's fallen for her first love…

I hit it with the holy trinity of rage—dislike, not interested, don't recommend this channel—and banished the video from my sight. I nearly flung my phone across the room, then remembered how expensive it was and restrained myself.

"Ugh. Maybe I should just go to sleep."

Originally, I'd planned to wear the clothes I'd bought myself from online shops. I'd liked them enough to purchase them, after all. If I hadn't intended to wear them, I wouldn't have bought them in the first place.

But once other options appeared, greed set in. These were gifts—the least I could do was try them on once. And if I found something prettier, something I liked better, I could just wear that instead.

The logic itself hadn't been wrong.

Everything fell apart the moment I stood in front of the mirror and became conscious of my own body. The problem was that my body was more provocative than I'd expected.

There had been a time when I'd checked between my legs alone in the bathroom. It had sent a chill through me—a smooth, hairless cleft without so much as a single petal of covering. Soft, plump folds. Looking that far, I'd had no choice but to accept how thoroughly I'd changed.

Any outfit with even a little exposure brought that same strange, unsettling feeling back. Fully accepting this body was still a hard thing for me.

My fretting had clearly gone too deep. It was already far too late.

In the end, I'd narrowed it down to two options. One was the casual suit I'd bought myself. The other was the beige knit dress Luce had given me.

I'd tried on everything worth trying. I'd decide in the morning when I woke up. When the time actually came, I'd put something on and go out—surely.

Caught between a quiet anxiety and a quiet anticipation, I fell asleep.

I'd just gotten off the bus near the meeting place when Master messaged me.

I started typing several replies, then kept deleting them. I had no gift for words, and trying to say everything I wanted only made the messages a mess. In the end I wiped it all and sent nothing but thanks.

Once the tournament prize money came through, I'd have to send him something. It weighed on me, how much I always seemed to be on the receiving end. If I casually asked his wife, I could probably figure out what to get him.

He read my messages, but no reply came back. In moments this awkwardly sincere, a well-timed silence was the virtue of real men. Born a real man myself, I didn't pile on any more words either.

Fortunately, the barbecue place we'd agreed on wasn't far from the station. Close enough that I could take my time walking with my crutches. Spring weather was still holding, so I didn't even break a sweat.

Being a busy district, the streets were full of people. A couple who looked sweet together. A pack of high school kids having fun. A family that looked warm and whole.

There was something oddly familiar about the place, and it didn't take long to place the memory. There was an aquarium nearby. That had to be it.

It must have been my birthday in second grade of elementary school. We'd gone to a family restaurant for dinner afterward, I think. There had been real warmth at that table, with the whole family together.

Could I feel that kind of warmth again?

I didn't want the sterile heat of disinfectant-smelling tap water anymore. I wanted warmth from people—from someone's arms. That was why I'd pushed past the fear and come this far.

"Welcome. Do you have a reservation?"

"Um… it should be under the name Yoo Se-rin."

"Right this way. I'll show you to your table."

I hadn't been late—not really. But I still seemed to be the last one to arrive.

When I stepped into the private room, everyone was already there.

"Um… I was invited by Yoo Se-rin. Is this the right place?"

Ah. My voice had come out far too small. Still, they'd been watching me since the door opened, so it seemed they'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠all heard me.

"Gawol? Is that really you? Wow!"

"You can sit right here!"

Two women and two men—exactly the same lineup as my usual fixed party. The age gap between the two guys made them easy to tell apart at a glance. Even their faces were almost exactly what I'd imagined.

The berserker player "DadLetsGoToDolgwol" was a soft-looking middle-aged man, the kind of guy who probably had a kid or two. Sulpang was a cheerful young man.

All four of them glanced at my left leg at least once. I shrank a little without meaning to, but thankfully none of the looks were too obvious. My brace didn't look that different from a half-cast from the outside.

"Aigoo, you must be tired from the trip. Sit down and hand me those crutches."

"Ah… thank you."

"Did you hurt your leg?"

"Something like that. It's fine as long as I'm careful."

My seat was between the two women.

Right. The real problem was these two—Elderin and San-sae. I couldn't tell who was who.

One was a woman only a little taller than me, maybe just over 160 centimeters. The frilly, bright clothes gave her a girlish air. Even sitting still she had the kind of face that smiled with its eyes—the type who must have been loved everywhere she went.

The other, at a glance, looked well over 170. She even had a glittering piercing in her ear. First impression: someone who knew how to have fun and didn't take nonsense from anyone. The bright smile on her lips made her seem good-natured, at least.

If I had to put it simply—one was the big-sister type, the other the little-sister type. The tall one had to be Elderin, right?

She looked pretty different from what I'd imagined, but given the social energy she'd always shown, it wasn't that strange.

I was about to thank them for the invitation when the smaller one waved.

"We already ordered the meat! Here's a menu—take a look if there's anything else you want!"

"Ah, okay. Thanks."

I looked at the menu like I'd been shoved into it. Checking the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠prices first was probably a habit from living poor for too long. Even knowing I wouldn't have to pay, expensive food still made me flinch.

And the moment I actually read the prices, my eyes went wide.

Expensive. Way more expensive than I'd thought. If I kept staring at the numbers, I wasn't going to be able to eat properly at all. I'd just eat whatever meat they ordered for me. White rice would be fine for the rest, right?

"I'm okay with anything."

"Then shall we get the flower loin?"

"Yeees…"

"By the way, you're incredibly cute."

"Ah—I'm not cute."

Still no one was telling me who was who. Between the two of them, the little-sister type ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was easier to deal with right now than the strong-aura big-sister type. After living as a loner for so long, I had something like an instinctive fear of certain people.

Thinking about the characters they played, the smaller one was probably San-sae. San-sae's character was a tiny halfling bard—even smaller and cuter than me—so her real-life preferences were probably similar.

"Um… you're San-sae, right?"

"Me?"

"Yes."

Something felt ominous. Both women—and even Dolgwol and Sulpang—started snickering.

What? Had I gotten it wrong?

Bad premonitions always came true. The tall woman gave me a sly, almost seductive little grin and patted my shoulder with a smile.

"I'm San-sae, actually."

"Whaaat?"

"Pfft. Don't look so shocked. Different from what you imagined, huh?"

Only then did the two of them introduce themselves properly.

"I'm Elderin! Yoo Se-rin!"

"San-sae. Kim Sin-ah."

"I'm Han Daeun. My game nickname is… Gawol."

"But Gawol, you're so pretty. I'm totally bragging about this in the lounge later."

"Right? Want to take a picture together in a bit?"

Photos were a little… But refusing after being treated to a meal like this also felt wrong. After a moment of hesitation, I nodded. I'd planned to go public eventually anyway. These weren't the kind of people who'd do anything reckless with it, and even if it leaked, it would only be a matter of sooner or later.

It would be fine.

"Pictures are okay, but… please don't post them online."

"Of course not! They're just for me. Nobody else gets to see! They're going to be my treasure."

"Can I be in the picture too?"

"Sure…"

Ah. This was bad.

I already felt like my social battery was draining dry.