Nekomimi Maid (1)
“That’ll be 1,500 won.”
“I’ll pay with Kakao Pay.”
“Sure thing. Could you turn up your screen brightness just a bit?”
“Ah, here you go.”
“Payment went through. Have a wonderful day~”
The bright customer-service smile plastered across my face remained until the customer stepped out the door. The moment he vanished from view, I let out a long, weary sigh, leaned against the counter, and fished my smartphone from my apron pocket.
With practiced ease, I opened Twitter.
The first thing that greeted me upon launching the app was the current status of my cosplay account.
“One hundred and eighty-eight, huh...”
A follower count of 188. Given that the vast majority of hobbyist cosplayers hovered somewhere under the two-hundred mark, it wasn't a terrible start. But for someone who had resolved to take this craft seriously, it was an undeniably underwhelming figure.
“When am I ever going to build this up...?”
In community forum terms, shedding the Ha-kko amateur label required cracking at least one thousand followers. That was my primary short-term goal, but looking at my feed now, that four-digit milestone felt impossibly far off.
“Hmm...”
Growing a cosplay account on Twitter generally came down to two methods.
The first was the time-honored subculture ritual known as Fachinso—short for “Let’s Introduce Twitter Friends.” You posted a self-intro alongside a few flattering selfies, listed your favorite fandoms, and traded mutual follows with everyone who hit like. Whenever a female cosplayer did a face reveal through Fachinso, pulling two to three hundred likes was practically guaranteed. In terms of short-term follower inflation, nothing was more effective.
Yet the strategy came with a glaring catch.
“I don’t think I have the stomach for that level of cringe...”
Making mutuals through Fachinso meant you actually had to socialize with them afterward. To do my due diligence, I scrolled through my timeline to see how people usually interacted.
“Ugh...”
One glance was all it took to scrub Fachinso from my playbook entirely. I might crave attention, but subjecting myself to that brand of performative baby-talk would melt my sanity in under forty-eight hours. Cosplay was supposed to be fun. Why inflict unnecessary psychic damage on myself just to chase numbers? When it came to online mutuals, I only wanted people I clicked with—people who didn't require constant, exhausting social upkeep.
“Pass on that.”
With Fachinso eliminated, the only remaining option was the orthodox route: posting quality photos like an actual cosplayer.
Normally, cosplayers received raw shots taken by con photographers or Yuksu fans on the event floor. The cosplayer would then retouch and edit the photos before sending them back. In the community, this protocol was called giving a Return, and returning an edit carried the unspoken permission that the photographer was allowed to publish it online. The photographer would then post the photo to their socials, and the cosplayer would retweet it or upload it directly while tagging the photographer. That virtuous cycle drove impressions and funneled curious eyes back to the cosplayer’s profile.
Unfortunately, I couldn't use that method either. At the last con, I hadn't formed an official photo line or scheduled private shoots with any photographers. Which meant I had precisely zero usable photos sitting in my inbox.
“Hmm...”
Resting my chin in my hand, I pondered alternatives from behind the counter. After a moment of deliberation, I reached a conclusion.
“Guess I’ll just post mirror selfies.”
Holding up a phone in front of a mirror was bound to look a little amateurish, sure. But it was infinitely better than letting my feed sit dead and abandoned.
With the idea settled, I opened Cobusang and typed ‘Evrina’ into the search bar.
“Only two listings...?”
Just two. For any mainstream character, a quick search flooded your screen with dozens of results. Evrina, by contrast, was a complete wasteland. Her character design was notoriously unforgiving—requiring an impossibly voluptuous bust and sharp, commanding features—so most female cosplayers avoided her like the plague. Low supply, abysmal turnover.
Well, at least there’s something available.
Reframing my mindset, I decided to look on the bright side: at least I wouldn't have to recycle her default armor for the next event. I browsed the two available listings.
Worn once, carefully stored ever since.
Fast shipping available.
Including a bonus wig net as a freebie!
Selling Rayne Helm Evrina limited skin (School Uniform Evrina) cosplay outfit.
Great uniform tailoring quality.
Hassle-free, quick buyers welcome.
School Uniform Evrina was an outfit I had personally wanted to try anyway, so I tapped the buy button without a second's hesitation.
The other one, however, gave me serious pause.
It wasn't just cat ears, nor was it just a maid uniform—it was an unholy hybrid of both. If I wanted to stay lore-accurate to the character, was I supposed to append nyan to the end of every single sentence? My stomach churned at the mere thought. What little pride remained of my former male self screamed at me to close the tab and purge the memory from my mind.
Yet passing up on the nekomimi maid presented its own dilemma.
“Who knows when the next Evrina listing will pop up...?”
The marketplace was completely bone-dry. If I let this slip through my fingers, I might find myself stuck rehashing an old costume at the upcoming convention. For someone striving to showcase the diverse charms of my waifu while carving out a name for myself, recycling the exact same outfit was the worst possible scenario.
“...”
My lingering masculine pride, or cold, hard reality?
Wrestling with the ultimate existential crisis, I finally made my choice.
“Evrina’s honor comes first...”
Discarding the pathetic remnants of my male ego, I hammered the purchase button.
As luck would have it, both packages arrived on the exact same afternoon through the same courier service.
“Hup...”
I scooped up the two parcels from outside my door and brought them inside. Carefully slicing through the tape so as not to damage the fabric within, I opened them one by one.
First was the School Uniform Evrina.
“Mmm... Solid. Pretty clean.”
It was a textbook Japanese-style school uniform. It might lean a bit plain on paper, but given how striking Evrina's natural facial features and silhouette were, an understated costume wasn't necessarily a bad thing. I hung the uniform neatly on a hanger, tucked it into the wardrobe, and opened the next box.
“Whoa...”
Out tumbled the nekomimi maid costume and its assorted accessories.
“Okay, it’s cute. I’ll give it that...”
It really was adorable. The maid headband was trimmed with delightfully soft, premium lace, and the matching plush cat ears and attachable tail were shockingly well-made. The maid dress itself featured a rather daring, plunging neckline that put far too much chest on display, but the cut of the fabric was gorgeous. If the school uniform was a dependable baseline, this nekomimi maid ensemble was pure, concentrated visual violence.
Wondering whether I actually had the nerve to wear it out in public, I hung it beside the others.
Evrina Default Armor.
Evrina School Uniform.
Evrina Nekomimi Maid.
A full roster of three costumes.
Snap.
I took a quick photo of the trio lined up in my closet and shot it straight to Gina.
She wasn't wrong. If I were still just an ordinary yuksu in the crowd, I would bypass a mundane school uniform in a heartbeat to queue up for a maid with cat ears and a swaying tail. But wearing that out in the open still felt like an insurmountable hurdle.
As I hesitated, Gina fired off another volley of DMs without waiting for my reply.
A lineup poll.
When a cosplayer had two competing concepts, they posted both and let their audience vote on which one they wanted to see on the convention floor. For the creator, it cured decision paralysis; for the fans, it gave them direct input on seeing their preferred fantasy brought to life. A win-win system all around.
I weighed Gina’s proposition carefully. In an unhandicapped vote, the nekomimi maid would obviously come out ahead. But by double the score? That seemed unlikely. The school uniform aesthetic possessed an ironclad, fiercely loyal demographic of its own.
And even if it did manage to win by double score, as Gina predicted... well, if that many people genuinely wanted to see it, what was the harm in wearing it just once?
A momentary sting to my personal dignity was a negligible price to pay if it elevated the name and glory of my beloved wife, Evrina. I could endure it.