His legs dangled over the edge of the bed, barely brushing the soft quilt below.
At 158 cm tall, he was shorter than most of his peers, something that occasionally gnawed at him, though he often told himself height wasn't everything.
A small lie to keep the insecurities at bay—convincing himself that he didn't look too much like a sissy compared to his taller, broader friends at school.
It was a fragile shield, but it worked most days.
He trudged to the edge of the bed, feeling as if he were standing on the edge of a cliff, the warm, cozy bed beneath him like a haven he didn't want to leave.
Kicking off his bed shoes, he rearmed his feet with a pair of bunny indoor slippers—soft and fluffy, a guilty pleasure he never spoke of aloud.
They were absurdly cute, but the comfort they provided was unmatched, and he allowed himself this small joy, even as a slight nudge of embarrassment tugged at his mind.
With a resigned sigh, he stood up—well, not too tall—then made his way to the closet on the far side of the room.
The doors creaked as he opened them, revealing two distinct sections of clothing within.
The closet itself was a project he'd crafted with his own hands: simple woodworking, a few screws, and basic tools lying around the house.
It wasn't perfect, but it was his, and that gave him a quiet sense of pride.
To the left, a dense array of male clothes hung, tightly packed together—hoodies, shirts, jeans, all carefully folded or draped.
Standard stuff, all of it plain and designed to fit in.
To the right, however, was a different story. A set of clothing far more personal, far more true to who he was, hung there, almost untouched.
Feminine, soft, vibrant—skirts, blouses, delicate fabrics that he had bought in secret and rarely dared to wear outside the confines of his room.
Each piece was a quiet rebellion against the rigid image he projected to the world, a small sliver of freedom he'd kept hidden for far too long.
"I wasn't like this before... " He sighed.
"But instead of wearing male clothes and being mistaken as a tomboy all the time... " He uttered, a faint hesitation tugging at the corner of his mind, but then it was forced and coerced away under an invisible hand.
And he continued his usually unspoken thoughts "Might as well dress up as one and cheat idiotic men some money while pretending to like them"
There is it...
The other side of his that he usually doesn't show on the surface.
Well, he is afraid to do so. The fear of being rejected by society or even facing the consequences of the said act and many more he had in mind.
That was the final string that he feared might occur if he were to delve too deep into this closet identity.
He stared at the right side of the closet, his reflection faintly visible in the door's glass panel.
His long, unkempt hair framed his face, giving him an androgynous look that he had come to accept, even if reluctantly at first.
The system had pushed him—no, *forced* him—to embrace this transformation, slowly and steadily.
He had fought it, resisted the changes at every turn, but now… he realized he couldn't deny it any longer.
"It's time to be true to myself, huh..." he whispered, his voice barely audible, as though saying it louder would make it too real.
His hand hovered over the clothes on the right, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric.
It was soft, inviting, and felt more like *him* than the bulky, oversized hoodies on the other side.
There was no going back now—not when the system had bound itself to him, not when he had already started to change in ways he couldn't control.
Maybe, just maybe, accepting this side of himself wouldn't be as terrifying as he had once thought.
"Enjoying life a bit won't hurt, and also... maybe this system can help me on the path of the awakeners"
Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the outfit.
"Oh btw, I am not gay"
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Mize stood before the mirror, the weight of the dress settling around his slim frame as he adjusted the collar that hugged his neck.
The black fabric was sleek, flowing down his body in elegant folds. The dress was long, reaching down to his ankles, its dark hue as deep and rich as the night sky.
It clung to his slender form in just the right places, accentuating his graceful silhouette, while the subtle pleats at the waist gave it a soft, flowing movement.
The collar, high and adorned with delicate silver embroidery, added a regal touch as if it had been plucked straight from the wardrobe of a medieval noblewoman.
The shoes he had chosen—a short-heeled pair made of polished wood and smooth leather—were an odd, anachronistic choice in a world where fashion had evolved into a strange blend of medieval and modern aesthetics.
The heels clicked softly against the tiled bathroom floor as he turned slightly, admiring the way they matched the elegance of the dress without detracting from its simplicity.
Around his wrists were thin silver bangles, each one delicately etched with intricate designs that caught the light whenever he moved.
A single black ribbon was tied around his waist, a small but striking contrast against the flowing fabric of the dress, cinching his figure.
His long hair, smooth and dark, fell down his back in a cascade, brushing against the collar and framing his face with an effortless beauty.
He ran his fingers through it, pushing it over his shoulders so it could fall more naturally, its silky strands adding to the femininity of his overall appearance.
His face, however, was the centerpiece of the reflection that stared back at him. His skin was flawless, a porcelain-like smoothness that gave him an ethereal, almost doll-like beauty.
His cheekbones were high, his lips full and naturally tinted with a soft pink hue. But it was his eyes that drew the most attention—their ruby-red irises glinting in the dim light of the bathroom.
They gleamed with an unnatural vibrancy, a striking contrast to his otherwise serene expression, and gave him an alluring look.
They were like two jewels set in the soft contours of his face, a reminder of the strange system that had changed him over time.
He stared at himself for a long moment, taking in every detail.
The transformation was undeniable. In this dress, with his long hair and soft features, he looked nothing like the boy he had been two years ago.
One could easily mistake him for some random pretty girl on the street, just living her life normally, going to the mall, to the cafe, and so on.
**[Ding, gained 100 points]**
The familiar sound echoed in his mind, interrupting his thoughts.
He hardly flinched at it now, having grown accustomed to the system's existence.
Over the last two years, without even fully realizing it, he had been accumulating points through these subtle changes, through this strange hobby of dressing up and embracing the feminine aspects of his appearance.
He wasn't even sure how many points he had anymore, but the system had never made much sense to him in the first place.
Mize sighed, deciding to open the system panel for the very first time.
The translucent blue square materialized before him, hovering in the air with its cold, digital glow.