"Name?"
"…I suppose it's Hintelaya. Just call me Platinum."
Hayakawa Tazuna blinked, glancing at the girl seated across from her.
…Suppose?
"Then, Miss Platinum, you don't appear to be a native of this country?"
"Hmm… Do I look like a native to you?"
Listening to the broken Japanese coming from across the table, Hayakawa Tazuna thought carefully for two seconds before shaking her head. "I don't think you are."
"You're right..." The girl across from her sighed. "I don't look like one either. If I had to name a nationality... maybe Polish? Though I don't speak a word of Polish."
Hayakawa's hand holding the pen trembled slightly.
...Probably?
"Hmm..." Tazuna cleared her throat, her smile faltering slightly. "Then, Miss Hintelaya, may I ask..."
"Are you absolutely sure you want to sign up for the upcoming debut race that about to begin today?"
The girl rolled her eyes and stared up at the ceiling.
If I had a choice, I wouldn't be doing this either.
It all started three hours ago.
Standing before a mall mirror, the girl pinched her own cheeks. Her reflection mimicking the gesture in mirror image.
She slapped her cheeks hard. Instantly, the reflection's cheeks flushed bright red. She'd hit it without holding back.
"Hmm..." She pondered for a moment, then pinched her ears—not the ones at her temples like a normal person, but the diamond-shaped white ears on the top of her head.
"Ouch." She immediately released her fingers. Not only were these ears real, they were surprisingly sensitive.
As if sensing her owner's thoughts, the pair atop her head twitched in perfect sync.
Rubbing her eyes, the girl studied her reflection in the mirror. Her face held traces of childish innocence yet hinted at budding allure. Her waist was slender enough to grasp in one hand, and below it, the faint curves of a developing body emerged, like a bud about to bloom, brimming with the raw promise of youth and hope. Most captivating were her slender legs. Framed by open-toed sandals, they shimmered like glass, dazzlingly white in the sunlight.
Not only were her legs fair, but the girl's entire body—save for her rosy lips, eyes as dark and layered as black holes, and delicate pink nails—was a pure white. This included the lively ponytail swinging behind her and her waist-length hair, making her appear like a freshly carved sculpture.
That said, her proportions were astonishing... Though she didn't appear particularly tall, those legs were undeniably striking. The girl spun before the mirror, and her legs followed her will, parading around in the reflection.
After admiring her flawless figure, she crossed her arms and nodded.
———Indeed, no matter how she looked at it, this wasn't her.
No, did she really think her time in the hospital had turned her brain to mush? If anything, it was precisely because she'd spent so much time lying in hospitals that her idle self had spent day after day endlessly swiping on her phone...
Though her age seemed significantly reduced and her iris color different— Kuranta should be safely residing on the Terra Continent has Miss Platinum?
Or did she somehow dodge endless overtime by rolling a critical success and teleporting to another dimension...?
What kind of joke is this? I remember myself not long ago, lying in that hospital bed, my body ravaged by rampant bacteria. Every drop of blood in every vein was undergoing a qualitative change. Even breathing became a luxury—
The classic incurable disease, the terminal illness beyond cure. The mutated strain that began ravaging the world in the 30s, more terrifying than any previous infectious disease, a global catastrophe that swept across the entire planet. Infected individuals first began coughing up blood, then gradually lost their senses. Their bodily systems were thrown into chaos, leaving them bedridden like corpses. When the infection reached the brain, even perception of the outside world became distorted, as if the mind itself sought to detach from the body...
Why such vivid detail? Because I lived through it all myself.
I thought losing my legs at ten for doing the right thing was tragic enough. Forget playing basketball—I couldn't even run on the playground like before. Normal school was out of the question. Then this happened, leaving me bedridden for no apparent reason. Now I can't even sit up...
So what? Was this actually my final moment? The girl spun before the mirror once more. Was she truly nearing death, her brain conjuring this vision of paradise to comfort her, to ease her passage?
...But that didn't feel right either. If this was a dream, she had desperately wished for a pain-free body, healthy legs, and ideally a cute girlfriend for a sweet romance... But how could she even look for a girlfriend like this?
Had his brain just bundled all these wishes together? This is less reliable than Fuyuki's Holy Grail, seriously!
That said... the girl stretched her arms, flexed her chest, then bent forward. Her supple waist folded effortlessly, and she easily touched her toes. If this is a dream, it feels way too real. Or is this what a deathbed dream is like?
And... even the sensation in her legs was perfectly recreated. She ran her hands over her smooth, polished-looking legs. It had been so long since she'd felt her legs that she momentarily forgot how to walk.
"Daddy! Look at that horse girl over there! She's so weird!" A little girl, hand-in-hand with her father, passed by the girl. Innocent and unaware of subtlety, the child tilted her head, stared at the girl performing an advanced pose, pointed at her, and exclaimed loudly.
Huh... such familiar language. It felt both familiar and unfamiliar... like something she'd seen countless times on screens... The girl straightened up, bewildered by the child pointing at her.
Something was off. A million and eight hundred thousand things were off.
"Don't disturb her... Remember what I taught you..." The father whispered the same words to the child, offering the girl an apologetic smile before pulling the little one away quickly.
The girl stared blankly as father and child receded into the distance, then scanned her surroundings. The towering shopping mall, at least six stories high, featured a glass-paneled ceiling that let sunlight stream directly into the first-floor atrium. Crowds jostled shoulder to shoulder amid a cacophony of voices. She felt particularly scrutinized by passersby, likely due to her strange behavior and unusual appearance.
But that wasn't the point. The shop signs, the street banners, the advertisements playing on the TV screens...
Why was everything in Japanese?
As if awakening from a deep dream, the girl tremblingly covered her face and slowly sank to her knees. Even so, the crimson flush at her temples remained utterly unconcealed.
"No way..." she murmured through clenched teeth, her voice as thin as a mosquito's.
"...Anyway, let me get my bearings first." Remaining crouched, she inched toward a nearby chair, attempting to blend into the background like an ordinary mushroom.
If this wasn't just her life flashing before her eyes—could it be... she'd shed her old body and arrived in a brand-new world?
If it were true, though hope seemed slim, she wouldn't beg for a fresh start to fall on her perpetually unlucky self—yet through the gaps between her fingers pressed against her cheeks, her eyes glistened brightly.
Could she truly begin a new life with a healthy body?
Don't be ridiculous. If such a chance existed, she'd gladly sell her soul to the devil!
To stand again, to run freely... things the old her dared not even dream of.
Alright, if fate truly smiled upon her and granted a second chance—this time, she would live without regret!
The girl raised her arms, waving them excitedly in the air.
Alright, first things first—find a place to stay.
She fumbled around her body, not out of any lewd intent—but as she did so, it was as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped over her head. Her expression turned awkward.
Not only did she not have her ID, wallet or keys... those were bad enough, but she didn't even have a phone on her.
I was penniless. Aside from the thin clothes on my back, if you turned me inside out, you wouldn't find a single thing.
No identification. A stranger in a strange land, I struggled even with basic communication, let alone writing. And there was no document to prove my identity...
No money, no identity—this, this, this... had a clearer definition: refugee.
She felt like a refugee dropped into this metropolis. If this continued, forget living a fulfilling new life—soon he'd be drinking tap water, rummaging through trash bins, sleeping under bridges, becoming one of the scavengers.
No way! Becoming a vagrant? At least wait until ten years after I die!
The girl covered her mouth, screaming silently.
Please don't let those survival skills I watched out of boredom actually come in handy in this urban jungle! If this keeps up, I'll be the most pathetic transmigrator in history!
Or... or... maybe I could... lay tiles on a construction site? She looked frail now, but her strength was formidable—she'd be a top-tier worker on any site... A bead of cold sweat formed on the girl's forehead.
At least, she could ensure her stomach wouldn't growl from hunger.
"...In the recently concluded Takarazuka Kinen, Ms. Mejiro McQueen narrowly lost to Ms. Mejiro Ryan."
"What a pity—her winning streak was broken. But facing the newly-revised running style of Ms. Mejiro Ryan, it was a fierce battle without any watered-down moments."
"I hope Ms. Mejiro McQueen can bounce back and regain her previous momentum..."
The voices of two hosts chatting on the TV beside her drifted into the girl's ears. She twitched her diamond-shaped ears and looked up at the screen.
The television broadcast the race footage—on the green, rolling racetrack, a group of girls sped past the camera, their hooves pounding the ground so hard it caused the camera to shake slightly. Among them, the two most dazzling figures were undoubtedly the frontrunners—Mejiro McQueen and Mejiro Ryan, their hair streaming behind them. Even the girls clinging tightly to their heels had no chance of overtaking them.
The girl froze, though not because she was stunned by the beauty of the Mejiro sisters—she hadn't even had her fill of looking at herself.
On the television, there was no doubt about it—the ones racing weren't horses... Instead, they were girls with ponytails and diamond-shaped ears atop their heads.
"Is this real...?" The girl stared blankly at the screen, rising to her feet without realizing it. She nearly pressed herself against the TV, even after the broadcast had long ended.
She understood. She understood why no one batted an eye at her strutting around with a pair of horse ears and a ponytail.
Because it wasn't strange at all. This world was simply... like this.
Girls born from the goddess, fairy-like in nature, carrying their dreams onto the green turf, trading sweat for glory—this was the world.
The girl's eyes lit up once more. No other choice—sleeping on construction site bricks, under bridges, or taking a gamble... which to pick?
Time rewinds to the present. The girl calling herself Platinum felt a twinge of envy.
After all, demanding a debut race at the nearest racetrack just because she watched a TV show was a bit of a pipe dream.
True, she had stumbled upon one... but these undebuted Umemono all came from Tracen Academy?
In other words, they'd all undergone rigorous training, earned recognition, and gained the confidence to step onto this track.
What did she have to compete with them?
But that wasn't even the biggest issue... Had she lost her mind? Without ID, she couldn't get a job, couldn't find lodging—how on earth could she possibly race?
Even she laughed at her own stupidity. She wanted to tell herself: Hey, stop joking around. Are you starving yourself into delirium?
At this point, our Miss Platinum, her initial fervor fading, began to feel uneasy. She wanted to find an opportunity to slip away quietly.
But that wasn't the most important thing either.
The girl stole glances at Miss Hayakawa Tazuna, who sat across from her, clearly troubled.
That expression wasn't about agonizing over "whether to enter the contest"—it was about "whether to call the police"!
If the police showed up and found a foreign-looking girl like her penniless, unable to speak the language, and without any ID...
Refugee. Definitely an illegal immigrant!
She might end up getting invited to eat pork cutlet rice!
What to do, what to do, what to do? Miss Shirogane broke out in a cold sweat.