Chapter 3
I have no money.
In modern society, this is a more serious matter than anything else.
I can't eat.
I can't use my phone.
I'll end up out on the street.
For the past week, I've been getting by on the food I had at home.
Canned tuna, cereal, instant noodles.
There's less than half left now, but with this smaller body, I can make it last a while.
The fact that I had no money sank in again.
......
I looked at the front door again.
Beyond it was the man next door's...
-
No, I should stop running away from reality.
What can I do? What kind of work could I manage?
I sat down and thought hard for a while. Maybe my period had just ended today, because the discomfort and pain were gone.
What can I do? What can I do?
...
There's no way I could do anything like that.
My dark side whispered to me.
I remembered when I got a part-time job in middle school because I wanted a new game console.
They hired me right away because I was rather pretty, but I was bad at dealing with people, so I got cussed out and fired before long.
That was when my fear of people was at its worst. How bad had it gotten now?
It was strange that I went out drinking so often but couldn't hold down a part-time job.
But I could say with certainty that the two were completely different.
At a drinking party, you got drunk and could lose yourself having fun even with strangers.
But at a part-time job, you had to deal with people sober, and that was almost impossibly hard for me.
It wasn't like I could have a drink before going to work, either.
Alcohol really does make you capable of all kinds of things.
Like getting along with people you've never met before.
Sex. Murder. Rape.
As I fidgeted with my hand, the wrist beneath it stung.
When I looked, I saw several thin, barcode-like scabs etched into it.
...After my body changed, I thought I should stop doing that. It was incredibly difficult, though.
I could endure the lack of cigarettes, probably because my body had changed and I barely had any withdrawal symptoms.
But the psychological withdrawal from self-harm was hard to resist.
Maybe money was what had set it off.
The pressure of having no money confronted me with a vague fear that was stronger than I'd expected.
I looked around.
After a week, my room was filthy with all kinds of trash. My body had become a practice board for cutting, and dozens of windows cluttered with shit-stirring posts were open on my computer.
And yet, for some reason, this room and this state of my body gave me a sense of comfort.
A room full of trash, rather than one as white as snow.
A wet canvas smeared with ink, rather than a pristine white one.
Vile immorality, rather than beautiful morality.
That was what made me feel more at ease.
Anyway, I don't want to work.
Wasn't there some way to make money without lifting a finger?
...As soon as I thought that, I remembered my changed body.
Couldn't I make money just by posting pictures of my body?
-
I immediately put the idea to the test.
I unbuttoned my pajamas down to my solar plexus.
The soft fullness beneath seemed to pop out through the opening and spread slightly to either side.
Then I took a picture.
Click-
For some reason, I felt like I was doing something wrong as I checked my photo gallery.
......
That's so hot...!
I'd taken the picture without showing my face because I felt like I was doing something bad.
I think that made it even sexier.
My pale skin and the ash-gray hair spilling out to either side were more amazing than any dirty picture.
...I stared at the photo for a while (apparently, I wasn't completely free of sexual desire), then my finger slipped as I tried to zoom in and swiped to an old picture instead.
"...... Hmm."
There was a picture of the old me, sitting there all cocky and throwing up a V sign.
Looking at it like this, I was a real punk.
I looked like I was trying to show off with my whole body that I was a punk.
To be honest, part of me had deliberately wanted to look that way.
Maybe the human brain really is built to adapt. It had only been a week since I changed, and I could barely remember who the blond young man on the screen was.
"Doesn't really stir anything in me."
For a second, I'd worried that seeing it might make me cry from missing my old self, but nothing like that happened.
Anyway.
I went back to the picture I'd just taken and stared at it.
......
No, I should stop.
I moved the picture to the trash.
For some reason, it felt like a waste.
I wondered if this was really the way of thinking of someone who'd just been contemplating suicide as a woman.
But when people go to extremes, they can make any choice without hesitation.
This is really, really...
When I'm out of money and my will to live starts to fade, that's when I should do it.
Let's think of it as a last resort.
Maybe I thought about it for too long; my head was throbbing.
I sat down at the computer, turned it on, and launched Bell.
I should cool my head a little.
At that moment, an idea flashed through my mind.
Hey, maybe I could stream Bell?
Why hadn't I thought of that when I'd considered posting a sexy picture?
If I were a Grandmaster and pretty, wouldn't lots of people watch?
I went online and looked up how to do it.
I know. Since I love Bell, I watch Bell streams often, and I know there are hundreds of people with just one viewer.
There's only one way to rise to the surface of that hell.
Bait.
And I have a real talent for it. My ten years on DC Inside prove that.
Besides, now I have dozens of things that are guaranteed to bait men, just by virtue of being a woman.
I think there are a few things that make a streamer stand out.
Having superior skill.
Having a nice voice.
Being a woman.
Being pretty.
That's all me, isn't it?
My voice is nice enough that I like talking and listening to myself, and not only am I good at LoL, I'm objectively a very pretty woman, too.
...There's no reason I shouldn't succeed, is there?
Setting up the stream was easier than I expected.
I just had to install a streaming program, log in, and select the window I wanted to broadcast.
Once I was ready, I had to think about the biggest problem.
What should I use to bait people?
Should I put a selfie on my profile?
That'd be kind of embarrassing.
In the end, I decided to bait people with the stream title.
A title that made it clear I was a woman, but would draw even more attention than that.
...I've got it.
I typed what I'd thought of into the stream title field.
---
High School Graduate, Unemployed Loser, Never-Dated Virgin, Pretty Girl
---
I did it.
I acted like nothing was wrong, brought the headset mic to my lips, and queued up Bell.
Well, it wasn't a lie, was it?
Originally, I should've included 'mentally unfit,' too.
But that wouldn't work. I'm a woman now.
Before long, three people had joined the stream.
---
Are you really a High School Graduate, Unemployed Loser, Never-Dated Virgin, Pretty Girl?
---
I took a deep breath, feeling oddly nervous,
and opened my mouth.
"Yes."
My clear, bright voice, like a silver bead, traveled through the microphone and out across the internet.
---
Oh
---
It wasn't a bad reaction. For some reason, I even felt a sense of accomplishment.
---
Wow, your rank's high. GM?
---
They must've looked up the nickname that showed on my Bell screen.
"I play quite a lot."
---
Show us a selfie.
What if it's a guy pretending to have a woman's voice, or TTS?
---
"Heh."
A short laugh escaped me before I spoke.
Anyone could tell that was a woman's voice.
Humanity hadn't advanced far enough for that to be an electronic voice or a man making a woman's voice.
So, your claim has been seen through.
On the surface, you're insisting I'm not who I say I am, but your real motive is just some guy's scheme to see my selfie.
But that "Oh" of yours moved me.
"Please wait a moment."
I stood up and put on the mask hanging on the wall.
Then I went to a clean spot and set it down.
...Ah, I should put a hoodie on over my pajamas.
I almost sent them a sexy picture.
I covered my face with a V sign.
Click.
Then I cropped the picture so only a little of the dirty parts of my room showed,
and placed it in the corner of the stream window.
---
Oh...
Wow
---
Seeing how openly they liked it made me feel all tingly.
Not bad, huh?
Was this why women said men were so easy?
---
Is this really you?
Why'd you take it so sexily? lol
---
"...Ah."
The pose, with a sideways V sign covering my eyes, definitely looked very suggestive even without showing any skin.
I'd forgotten.
When I was a man, I'd had a habit of taking pictures in a lewd way because of my twisted mindset.
If I became a woman, that would just turn into a habit of taking sexy pictures.
"I-I was just joking."
I made up some excuse.
---
But
Why's your back so hunched?
---
"Huh?"
Sure enough, my back was hunched even through the hoodie.
I only just noticed. When had my back gotten so hunched?
"Ah."
As I wondered about it, I immediately realized why.
Was it because I wasn't wearing a bra?
---
A woman's breasts are heavier than you'd think.
They're heavy enough that your back muscles alone have a hard time supporting them.
Women wear bras not only for some silly reason like appearance, but for their health, too.
---
"Because I'm not wearing a bra."
I just answered honestly.
The chat didn't move for a while.
* *
Click, click-
"Ah, sh—"
I started to say more, then clamped my mouth shut.
I almost did something 'unladylike' out of habit.
I was angry, but I was a 'female streamer.' I couldn't type such vulgar things, so all I did was tap Enter over and over, making Bell's chat window appear and disappear.
I checked the comments with a little concern, but there wasn't much of a heated reaction.
---
lol, guess she swears a lot
I get it, yeah. Bell's a cancer game, anyway.
---
They'd let that much slide?
Still, I should hold back.
Because right now, I'm a demure High School Graduate, Unemployed Loser, Never-Dated Virgin, Pretty Girl.
* *
Defeat.
"Haa......"
---
lol, legendary team luck
---
There were eight viewers now.
"I'll stop here."
---
Bye
You're coming back next time, right?
---
"I'll think about it."
Of course I'd come back, but for some reason I wanted to play hard to get, so I said that.
"Goodbye."
I said that, ended the stream, and stretched my stiff back.
Streaming wasn't as hard as I'd expected.
Maybe because I was a woman, the other person took the lead in the conversation.
I just had to answer them properly and make a little small talk of my own.
This might not be so bad.
...... Ah.
...Now that I think about it, I'd exposed my nickname.
I'm pretty well known among Grandmasters.
Well, it should be fine. There weren't even ten viewers. This was just a test stream, anyway.
I'd never appeared anywhere, so only Bell addicts would recognize the name, right?
It shouldn't matter.
But contrary to my expectations, my innate talent for baiting people didn't let up.
Views: 13,249 Likes: 131 Dislikes: 142 Comments: 394
Breaking: Grandmaster's legendary potty mouth Chyeo Juk Juk Chyeo: it was a woman