Robin stepped into the apartment, the soft click of the door shutting behind her echoing briefly in the quiet. She paused near the entrance, her eyes slowly sweeping across the interior. The space was... surprisingly well-furnished.
A flat-screen TV hung neatly on the wall across from a plush gray sofa. A sleek PC setup occupied the corner of the living room beside a modest bookshelf already stocked with a few manuals and novels. The open kitchen was minimal but complete—microwave, stove, refrigerator. Even the bedroom, which she peeked into, came with a neatly made bed, dresser, and soft lighting. The bathroom? Stocked with toiletries, fresh towels, and modern fixtures. A standing shower, even lavender-scented soap.
Robin gave a small, incredulous laugh under her breath."All this... and I didn't have to lift a finger."
It felt surreal. Her old life had never been like this—not even close. And here she was: new world, new home, five hundred dollars in her account, and all she had to do was exist.
Well… exist as someone else.
She ran a hand through her lilac-silver hair, pausing when her fingers met the damp ends. The moment her body had relaxed, her weariness had finally caught up. Up until now, she'd been on alert—tense and anxious. But now, in the silence of her own space, fatigue hit like a heavy blanket.
Robin walked over to the couch and let herself fall onto it. The cushions embraced her with a soft whoomph. She stretched languidly, arms rising above her head, and released a deep yawn, covering her mouth as her halo tilted slightly from the motion.
"Okay…" she murmured. "Shower first, then food. Then pass out."
She pushed herself off the couch and made her way to the bathroom. The mirror greeted her again, displaying a reflection she still hadn't entirely accepted. No matter how long she stared, it didn't feel natural yet.
Long, silky hair. That faint shimmer to her green eyes. Delicate collarbone. Slender neck. The wings that gently fluttered behind her ears.
She sighed."This… is me now."
There was a long pause before she began unfastening her dress, tugging gently at the fabric. She paused, glancing suspiciously around the room."…No cameras, right?" she muttered, her voice low and uncertain.
She checked—corners, walls, above the mirror—anywhere one might be hidden. Nothing.
Satisfied, she resumed. The dress slipped from her shoulders, pooling silently to the floor. Her skin, fair and unmarred, reflected softly under the bathroom light. Even her ears flushed red as she caught her own gaze again in the mirror, and she quickly turned away.
"Ahem." She coughed, trying to play it off to herself, and stepped into the shower.
The cold water shocked her at first, but it felt good—cleansing. Real. The tension washed away with the stream, and for a moment, she let herself forget the chaos of the day.
By the time Robin stepped out, freshly dressed in the same outfit, her hair still damp, she looked like herself again—at least on the surface.
She padded barefoot into the kitchen, towel slung over her shoulders, and pulled open the refrigerator door.
Empty.
She stared at the void of shelves and sighed. "No food. No clothes.... but at least I have Wi-Fi."
Still rubbing her damp hair with the towel, she made her way to the coffee table, picked up the government-issued phone, and tapped through the basic UI. It was sleek, minimal no social apps installed yet, just essentials.
"Let's see…" she murmured, pulling up the map. "Nearest mall…"
Her finger tapped against the screen, eyes narrowing slightly as she calculated the route.
"Looks like a ten-minute walk. Alright."
As she slipped on her heels and grabbed the key from the counter, she paused by the door and glanced back at the room.
-----------------------
As Robin stepped into the open street, the hum of the city washed over her—a soft undercurrent of passing cars, distant chatter, and the occasional buzz of hover drones patrolling overhead. Nexford was alive with light: holographic ads shimmered in the air, casting multicolored reflections on passing pedestrians, and sleek architecture loomed in elegant curves overhead.
Yet, despite the urban grandeur, Robin felt it immediately.
Eyes.
Too many of them.
It started subtly—a few heads turning, hushed murmurs following in her wake. Then, the glances became lingering stares. Conversations quieted when she passed. Children nudged their parents and pointed. People on benches subtly reached for their phones, pretending to check something while clearly sneaking a photo.
Robin's steps quickened.
Why are they staring...? she thought, a cold prickle crawling up her back—until it hit her.
Right. She'd forgotten.
She wore the body of Robin—the beloved galactic idol from her previous universe, known for her ethereal charm, angelic voice, and otherworldly beauty. With her flowing lilac-silver hair, radiant green eyes, delicate halo floating just above her head, and the soft, feathered wings fluttering behind her ears, she may as well have stepped off a divine runway.
She didn't look human.
She didn't look local.
She looked like a dream people didn't expect to find walking down their neighborhood street.
Robin hunched her shoulders slightly, wishing she could fold in on herself, and picked up the pace toward the mall ahead.
The moment she entered the shopping center, a wave of cool, artificially conditioned air greeted her, carrying with it the scent of synthetic florals and fresh fabric. It felt less eyes here, more distractions. No one followed her in. At least, not yet.
"Clothes first," Robin muttered, scanning the stores. She didn't want to burn through her limited funds, so she avoided the high-end brands with robotic attendants and gravitated toward a more humble, but still stylish, boutique called Clover Loop.
Inside, she browsed the racks with careful deliberation. Simple T-shirts, a few hoodies, basic jeans, leggings, sleepwear. She picked items by practicality, but occasionally her hand lingered on something a bit more... feminine. Frilled hems, pastel tones. Part of her wanted to deny it, but she couldn't lie—these soft styles did look good on her.
A dozen outfits later, she stood before a mirror in the changing room. Each reflection looked back with more confidence than the last. The clothes fit, the look worked, and—damn it—she was starting to believe she really was Robin.
Satisfied with her modest haul, she headed for the counter—only for a sudden realization to crash into her mid-step.
"...Underwear."
She froze. Her face flushed. You forgot the essentials, dummy.
Bra and panties were a mystery she hadn't figured out yet. She awkwardly paced in front of the intimate section before swallowing her pride and approaching a staff member—a young woman currently leaning against a pillar, flipping through a magazine suspiciously full of shirtless men.
"Excuse me, miss?" Robin asked, forcing herself to sound casual.
The employee startled, snapping the magazine shut and tucking it behind her. "Ah! Yes, welcome! How can I help you?" Her voice shifted to a professional, polished tone in an instant.
Robin fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve. "Could you… help me measure my bra size?"
The woman blinked. Then smiled—genuinely. "Of course, please follow me to the fitting area."
Robin followed, cheeks burning like twin suns. She was sure her ears were practically glowing. The staff led her behind a curtain, pulling out a soft measuring tape with well-practiced ease.
"Are you finding your current bras a little tight?"
Robin didn't have the energy to explain the whole interdimensional gender-switching situation. She just nodded. "Y-Yeah… Something like that."
The staff chuckled lightly but made no further comment, her hands working with professional grace.
Once measurements were taken and an appropriate set recommended, Robin swiftly completed her purchase and packed everything up. By the time she stepped out of the store, her arms were full of bags and her heart was still recovering from embarrassment.
At least I survived that.
She checked her phone.
Nearly two hours had passed.
"…Huh? No way—it only felt like thirty minutes."
Shaking her head, Robin headed toward the rental storage unit section of the mall to deposit her bags. She found a mid-sized locker near the front entrance, scanned her government-issued phone to unlock it, and carefully placed the bags inside.
"Alright," she said, hands on her hips, trying to shake off the lingering awkwardness. "Next mission: groceries."
-------------
A short while later, Robin emerged from the supermarket, arms full with bags of basic groceries—nothing fancy, just enough to last a few days. Essentials like bread, fruit, boxed meals, and water. It had taken her less than an hour, far faster than her clothing excursion.
She walked back toward the rental storage where her other purchases were kept, her steps light and rhythmic. As she moved through the wide, tiled mall corridor, she began to hum—absently, instinctively.
It was a melody from her past life.
The song, 自娱自乐—a soft, mellow tune she used to listen to during quiet afternoons—slipped past her lips in a gentle hum. She didn't think much of it. It was just habit, a nostalgic comfort to fill the silence.
But the world around her noticed.
Shoppers slowed their pace. People turned toward the sound, drawn by the hauntingly beautiful tune. There was something ethereal in her voice—calm, pure, and subtly emotional. Even though she wasn't singing words, the melody carried an emotional weight that resonated with everyone who heard it.
No one recognized the tune. Of course they wouldn't. That song didn't exist in this world.
And so, naturally, they assumed the impossible: the girl with the wings, the halo, and a voice like a lullaby was composing something original on the spot.
Phones were raised. A few teens recorded her, whispering excitedly as they followed from a distance. A musician near the food court turned to his tablet, trying to transcribe the melody. Others simply stared, wide-eyed, captivated.
Some listeners shared the recording instantly—across apps, message boards, and group chats. A few saved it as an alarm. One person muttered something about her being "the next big thing." Unwittingly, Robin had already started to go viral.
She, however, remained blissfully unaware.
Still humming, she arrived at the rental storage locker. After unlocking it with her phone, she pulled out the bags of clothing she had packed earlier. She paused as she glanced at her reflection in the chrome panel beside the lockers.
A girl was carrying enough bags to weigh down a full shopping cart. She blinked. Is this what I look like right now?
To Robin, it was perfectly normal. But to passing bystanders, the image was surreal: a divine-looking girl casually juggling groceries and shopping bags like any other person.
Some of the men watching looked like they wanted to help, but hesitated—she looked graceful enough not to need it, and there was that lingering question: Would she even understand me?
--------------
Robin set her bags down beside her and opened the transportation app on her phone. A car had already been requested. She tapped a few times, checking for arrival updates, then flipped to her music player, quietly hoping some of her old playlists had followed her across worlds.
They hadn't.
Her library was empty. No 自娱自乐. No pop stars from Earth. Nothing familiar.
Robin sighed, a little puff of air escaping her lips as she closed the app. "Guess I'm starting fresh here too, huh..."
A ping alerted her that the car had arrived. She looked up as a sleek black vehicle pulled to a smooth stop by the curb. The driver—a well-dressed man with perfectly combed hair—stepped out before she even approached.
Without a word, he moved swiftly to the bags, lifting them into the trunk with efficient ease and a polite smile.
Robin blinked in surprise. Oh? They offer this kind of service here?
Before she could open the door for herself, the driver beat her to it, holding it open with a slight bow of the head.
Gentlemanly.
"Thank you," Robin said softly, settling into the back seat as the door closed behind her.
She sank into the leather cushion, finally exhaling as the hum of the engine started up. Her shopping was done. Her place awaited. And her new life was beginning to take shape.
But somewhere, in dozens of devices across the city, the sound of her voice was already beginning to spread.
And she didn't know it yet—
But this was only the beginning.
(A/n: If you haven't heard the song yet, I highly recommend it—it's really good! Another one of my favorites is 披星戴月的想你 . Definitely worth a listen!)