I had to spend quite a while in front of the mirror.
The childish, cute voice had become somewhat familiar after about thirty minutes of mumbling to myself.
At first, it felt like hearing someone else's voice from outside, but gradually, I could clearly feel it vibrating through my skull.
My face?
I'd been kneading it nonstop like mochi rice cakes since earlier.
The texture was just too good to stop.
How often in life do you get to touch a face like this?
After about an hour of blankly staring into the mirror, prodding my cheeks and various parts of my body, I finally managed to shift my thoughts elsewhere.
How the hell had I turned into a woman?
Was it some illness that kept my identity the same but changed my gender?
Had the whole world shifted to a timeline where everyone sees me as a woman?
Or maybe I remembered that I'd actually been reincarnated into a new life....
There were all sorts of possibilities, but the way to check was surprisingly simple.
"My wallet... it's the same."
The card wallet I'd used to pay for the taxi yesterday was right there in front of the keyboard, unchanged.
Inside were the credit card I'd opened when I started working and my resident registration card.
So, checking my ID would tell me everything.
Who I was, and how I'd become a woman.
My heart pounded.
[Magia (魔蜘鴉)]
[001122 - 40XXXXX]
My age was the same. My birthday was the same.
Only one character in my name and the last digit of my resident registration number had changed.
I couldn't tear my eyes away from the adorably cute ID photo for a while, then shook my head side to side and picked up my phone.
The model, color, and even the jelly case haphazardly slapped on were identical.
Opening the phone app and checking my contacts, there they were.
"Boss, 1st Gen girls, Mom and Dad..."
Everything was exactly the same.
It seemed I'd been dropped into a world where only I had become a woman.
Only then did I notice the clothing rack in the corner of my one-room apartment. Instead of the white dress shirt I usually wore to work, there was a petite women's blouse. Instead of my gray slacks, a women's H-line skirt hung there.
No need to look any further, I thought, so I went back to the mirror and pried my eyelids open top and bottom.
The most striking things were these eyes and my drastically shrunken height.
"The irises can be this clear, huh."
I'd been shocked by the eyes at first, but as soon as I remembered my great-grandfather—an American who settled in Korea after fighting in the Korean War—it all made sense.
He'd been a soldier with black hair and blue eyes. A tiny handful of relatives actually had blue eyes like mine now.
It didn't feel totally foreign, though—probably because of the subtle facial features and black hair.
"But... isn't this height way too short...?"
It felt a full handspan shorter than my old self.
Like Midori Komari, the elf girl from 1st Gen—her canon height was 148cm, but I felt even smaller.
Fiddling with my slender arms, which seemed like they'd snap if bumped, I wondered if I could even lift anything properly.
At the office, I just sat in my chair until quitting time, but there were still occasional tasks that required some strength.
So, I tried lifting a box of instant rice that was still sealed on the side.
Up it went.
"...This should be okay, right?"
I looked fragile enough to break at any moment, but surprisingly, my muscles were solid.
It was a bit harder than before, sure.
But since I'd never been athletic to begin with, aside from my reduced reach, it didn't feel like a huge difference.
My identity was intact.
No major disruptions to daily life.
My connections and job were the same.
So, going to work as usual shouldn't be a problem.
Everyone at the company already knows me as a woman.
I just need to adapt.
Even though I'd suddenly become a woman, the streams my boss and I watched together, and the VTubers we managed at the company, were all the same—so my responsibilities hadn't changed.
"I should head out a bit early today."
Mentally, nothing had changed much, but my body had, so I needed to get used to it or I'd mess up eventually.
My job already had me starting seven hours later than most, at 3 PM.
If my shorter legs made me late even walking at my usual pace, I'd feel bad for our hardworking parallel staff.
I couldn't exactly say, "Sorry I'm late—my short legs couldn't keep up."
So, I immediately messaged the boss on DingTalk, thinking I could swing by the 1,000-won mart on the way and grab anything needed.
[Me: Boss]
[Me: Anything the office is short on?]
It usually took at least ten minutes for a reply, so I set the phone down, planning to check after washing up.
Bzzz.
An impossibly fast reply.
[Bossnem: Nah?]
[Bossnem: My Post-its are all out, though]
[Bossnem: But I can grab some when I go out for lunch later]
[Bossnem: Rest up, see you later]
Casual speech, even.
In the five years we'd worked together, the boss had never spoken casually to me—yet here she was, treating me like a close little sister.
[Me: I'm heading to the 1,000-won mart anyway]
[Me: I'll pick some up on the way]
[Me: Don't bother going out while eating—just let me handle it]
[Bossnem: OK cool]
[Bossnem: What do you wanna eat for dinner tonight?]
Dinner?
Why ask about dinner?
[Me: Why dinner?]
[Bossnem: What the—suddenly?]
[Bossnem: Don't wanna eat with me anymore?]
What was this?
When had I ever eaten dinner with the boss?
The last time was right after 1st Gen's debut this past spring, wasn't it?
And that wasn't even just us two—it was a celebration with the four 1st Gen girls and two other people whose faces we knew.
Head swirling with question marks, I replied.
[Me: Did we maybe have dinner together yesterday too?]
Playing the classic amnesia card to slyly probe, the boss's replies came flooding in.
[Bossnem: Ji-a]
[Bossnem: You feeling sick or something?]
[Bossnem: Did you choke on late-night snacks after fixing Dora's sound issues yesterday?]
[Bossnem: Or are you suddenly dizzy or what?]
That was answer enough.
Woman-me apparently has dinner with the boss every night.
[Me: No no no]
[Me: Just kidding lol]
[Bossnem: -_-]
[Bossnem: You're slipping back into that sly troll habit, huh?]
[Bossnem: Anyway, just the Post-its]
[Bossnem: See you later]
[Bossnem: Be careful heading in]
It was intriguing—and baffling.
Just like the boss said, I used to be her toxic viewer—a sniper, no less.
In her favorite battle royale game—where she loved it but her skills never escaped potato level—I'd pop up as a random teammate, pulling every aggro in the book. That spawned my nickname: Signal Flare.
She'd end up isolated against the horde, forced into long-range gear, and finally snap with a roar like, "Signal Flare, you bastard!"
She's expressive, but full-on cursing like that was rare enough that the clip still circulates as peak Momo content.
But there's that famous saying, right?
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
So, the boss made the bold move of hiring me as manager.
Stop the toxic chaos, take my money, and rein in trolls like you.
Not even online—she straight-up invited me to meet IRL and talk.
We met as enemies, but somehow ended up working together since our vibes clicked—yet we'd always kept this weird distance.
Now she was acting like besties, which threw me off.
The only difference was me turning into a cute girl.
"...No way that's it."
If she'd been keeping me at arm's length to monitor her ex-troll, it made sense.
But if my cuteness melted that wariness away?
I'd trolled her plenty, but still carried games—so for a boss who hates losing, playing with me might not have sucked.
A few rounds of laughing and chatting like that, and maybe we'd gotten close.
"We could play together now...."
Back when Momo had only 30k subs, I'd fill out her lobbies, but after 100k, I stopped showing up.
Why'd I become a troll? Two reasons.
I loved when Momo played along with me, and helping her win was fun.
Even after she blew up, I kept sniping with alts and borrowed friend IDs—no one knew but me.
The problem was, sneaking into her lobbies was getting harder—ratios tightening, patterns varying to avoid detection.
But if we're dinner buddies now, do I even need to snipe?
I could just straight-up ask to play together.
* * *
… ─ Momo (VTuber) Gallery ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ …
[Come to think of it, what's Signal Flare up to these days?]
She still games, but weirdly never snipes Momo anymore
That week she sniped nonstop was straight-up hilarious fr
[Replies]
— Mongmongi001: Switched fandoms?
ㄴ Mongmongi050: Signal Flare's a diehard Mo-mother, no way she switches lol
— Mongmongi091: Wasn't there that rumor she's a manager now?
ㄴ Mongmongi005: For real?
ㄴ Mongmongi005: Thought it was just some rando troll's BS
ㄴ Mongmongi122: No way manager
ㄴ Mongmongi122: She'd have shown her face at Mo-dongbu content ages ago
ㄴ Mongmongi801: Maybe she joined but they didn't intro her?
ㄴ Mongmongi801: You gonna proudly intro yourself as ex-troll? lol
ㄴ Mongmongi801: I sure as hell wouldn't
ㄴ Mongmongi122: Webull meta?
ㄴ Mongmongi122: Trolls love the attention tho
ㄴ Mongmongi369: Can't snipe forever lol
… ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ …
Evening.
Waiting downstairs from our office building for Momo, I scrolled the gallery and found folks wondering about me.
Dropped a reply.
Planning to graduate from sniping.
If we're friends with the boss, we can game anytime—no need for sneaky trolls to mess around.
Brimming with excitement, I ran up as soon as she stepped out of the elevator.
"Boss! Battle call after content tonight?"
She replied indifferently.
With the face of a burned-out salaryman.
"Sorry. My schedule's booked solid for the next two months."
We're not friends?
Or work comes first?
My hopes crashed hard.
For a moment, instinct overrode reason—my inner troll took over.
"Boss. I wanna quit."
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