Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: I Don't Want to Be the Heroine (1)
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“Ah.”
The first sound out of my mouth the moment I opened my eyes was a voice laced with confusion. Why was I even opening my eyes? I hadn't lain down to sleep, nor had I collapsed while doing something.
My mind felt hazy, as if I'd just woken from a deep slumber—even though I hadn't slept at all. I had no idea why it felt this way. I pressed my temples hard, and as my senses sharpened, I finally noticed something off about the voice I'd just heard. It was thin, clear, and pure. A sweet, melodic tone that could become addictive the longer you listened.
But—why the hell was it coming out of my throat? Some explanation seemed necessary.
“Aaah.”
I opened my mouth again. Even though I'd tried to roughen my vocal cords to produce a deep voice, what came out was impossibly light.
“W-Wait a second...”
For some reason, I threw off the blanket covering my body and took a good look at myself. My eyes landed on the soft swell of breasts. I gave one a light press—squish—and a pleasant sensation spread through my fingertips. Dolphin shorts revealed legs as white as snow. Staring at those smooth, slender legs, I muttered to myself.
“...Fuck.”
What the hell was going on?
#
There was a novel. A dime-a-dozen academy story set in a royal capital, following the usual tropes. The protagonist wielded overwhelming power, rose to the top of the academy, and defeated villains alongside their comrades. That kind of novel.
“Why isn't this popular?”
That's what I'd thought. Sure, the tropes were so common they littered the streets, but royal academy tales had their own charm. That's why they were the gold standard—they tasted great even if you half-assed them!
But unfortunately, it seemed I was the only one who found it fun.
[From the author...]
The moment I saw that familiar notice title, I knew. This was the end of my journey with the novel. I was grateful that the author had serialized over 200 free chapters for what was essentially my private read, but I couldn't exactly demand they finish it just for me.
The author had to eat, too. I was disappointed not to see the ending, but I understood.
What I couldn't understand, though, was the content of the notice.
[I want to thank the one and only reader who's stuck with this story.]
Yeah. I nodded. My chest tightened a bit with emotion. Even if it was just for me, having the author remember like this was incredibly gratifying. I'd read their next work, too—so hurry up and write it!
[And as a token of my gratitude, I'd like to give you a gift.]
“A gift?”
Maybe some digital coupons? Thinking it no big deal, I clicked the link below. What appeared on my screen was pure black. A void so dark it seemed to suck me in. Pitch-black, utterly empty, flawless ebony—I stared at it blankly.
Thud.
Without any warning, I lost consciousness.
"...But what the hell is this?"
When I opened my eyes, I had become a girl. How was I supposed to process this? I didn't think it was a dream. I wasn't skilled enough at lucid dreaming to have one this vivid. I'd searched online once and tried it a few times, at best.
When I realized this was harsh reality, the shock wasn't as great as I'd expected.
After reading the novel's notice, closing my eyes, and opening them again—what hadn't changed? My genitals, my masculinity, my home—everything was flipped upside down. Maybe the changes were so drastic that I'd forgotten to be surprised.
With so much altered, I just sat there dumbfounded, numbly scanning my surroundings.
A house I'd never seen before, but not all that different from where I'd lived. Furniture with a few screws loose here and there, the epitome of a poor everyman's cramped single room. One thing I could tell from the room—it was surprisingly tidy.
“...Kinda like mine.”
A messy house in such tight quarters always made my head spin, too. I wasn't the neatest person, but I cleaned often. Poor living, solo apartment, spotlessly organized interior. Up to here, nothing felt drastically different.
Squish.
“Fuck...”
...Except for the fact that I'd become a woman. That hit like a goddamn truck.
It was something I'd only ever imagined. Stuff from the novels I read—like a guy turning into a silver-haired 14-year-old beauty and raking in cash as an idol, or reincarnating in Russia as a piano prodigy sharing hot love with a husky.
Guilt-free pleasure!
Since it would never happen to me, I just enjoyed it vicariously. But fuck, me becoming a girl? No way to enjoy this. They say life is a comedy from afar and a tragedy up close. Having a gender-swap hit me point-blank—not just observed, but experienced—how was I supposed to enjoy this?
“This is fucking tragic...”
Still, I knew I couldn't just flop around forever. I needed to figure out who I was—and what world this was.
“A mirror...”
I searched for a mirror. I was curious what my face looked like. Hoping the standard TS formula held true and I'd become a beauty, I opened the bathroom door.
Slam.
“...!”
Eek—some weird squeak escaped my lips. In the mirror, a girl stared back with a shocked expression. Her hand instinctively flew to her mouth, but it couldn't hide her stunning beauty. Long platinum hair shimmered. Her eyes burned like a crimson sunset.
“N-No, hold on.”
She was breathtaking—simple words couldn't capture it. If I'd seen this face back when I was a guy, I'd never forget it for the rest of my life. But what surprised me more was how familiar she looked.
-Her eyes burned red, a color at odds with her icy powers.
-In that frigid winter landscape, unfit for the season—platinum hair whipped in the wind.
-Her skin was so pale it bordered on ghostly, like a doll's. Did she avoid the sun?
“...Aisha.”
Aisha Irian—the woman from the novel I knew, the one I'd read. No room for doubt; I looked exactly like her. So, I'd possessed a character in the novel? As Aisha, no less? My head spun. And amid the chaos, what tormented me most was...
The fact that Aisha was the main heroine.