A Room Stained in Dim Light
It was 3:07 AM.
The air was thick with the smell of cheap cup ramen, dusty manga, and desperation.
Shinji Kobayashi — age 20, professional virgin, full-time shut-in, and an unapologetic otaku — was in battle. The supreme battle of faping.
A single tab glowed on his crusty laptop screen:
"TSF Monogatari – Episode 2: Once a Boy, Now a Plaything."
His eyes sparkled with the unholy mix of shame and excitement.
"Man… if only that happened to me… If I became a girl I could have sex all day" he mumbled, a hand already lost under the blanket.
But before the scene could even climax — so did he. As soon as he shoot his cum everything became dark in his eyes.
And then — nothing.
His heart gave out. Literally.
One final exhale, a shudder… and Shinji Kobayashi died with wet pants around his ankles and a stupid grin on his face.
Just like a true otaku king.
---
The Space Between Lives
Then… silence. No moaning. No screen glare. Just… endless white.
"Seriously…? I died jerking off to a genderbend hentai…?"
His voice echoed, he is bodyless and confused.
A laugh answered him — not mocking, but amused. Feminine. Echoing with power.
"Your final wish has been granted, Shinji Kobayashi. Let's see how much you like being the girl."
"Huh?"
There was no response. Just blinding light. Everything disappeared in nothing.
---
A soft breeze passed through the open window, fluttering white curtains like ghostly hands brushing against delicate skin. The scent of wildflowers and polished wood filled the room, along with something unfamiliar—sweet perfume?
Shinji stirred, his eyelids twitching as his senses gradually returned. He was lying on a plush bed that could rival the fancy sets from anime. Silk sheets. Pink canopy. Lacy pillows.
His bed was feeling way too comfortable.
His eyes snapped open.
"...What the hell?"
He sat up, quickly realizing three horrifying things:
One—this wasn't his messy, cramped otaku den.
Two—he was wearing a sheer, silky nightgown.
Three—something soft jiggled on his chest.
He grabbed at it instinctively, gasping and letting out a small scream. "Boobs?!"
His voice felt like a sweet girl.
He leapt out of bed and rushed to the ornate mirror across the room.
What stared back at him was not Shinji Kobayashi, the average, forgotten 20-year-old pervert with glasses and greasy hair.
No, this was a girl. A super hot at that!
Long, cheri-pink hair spilled over petite shoulders. Her face was ethereal, like a heroine from a fantasy gacha game—large brown eyes, flushed cheeks, pink lips slightly parted in shock. And her body... curved in all the ways anime fanservice had trained him to notice.
"Did... did I die watching TSF Monogatari?" he muttered, horrified.
The last thing he remembered was Episode 2's climax—both literal and narrative. Then blackness.
The door opened.
"Lilith!"
A tall, rugged man with salt-and-pepper hair rushed in, followed by a younger boy about sixteen, with messy dark blonde hair and worried eyes.
"Thank the heavens, you're awake!" the man said, kneeling by the bed. "You had us so worried…"
The boy hugged him—no, her—tight. "Big sis… don't scare us like that again…"
Lilith?
They called her Lilith.
She blinked. Something stirred in her head—images, not her own. A girl lying sick in bed. This man—her father—staying up all night holding her hand. The boy—her little brother—trying to cook soup and hiding the fact that he burnt his hands.
Shinji—no, Lilith—held her head. The memories kept coming. Her life here. The village. The world. The expectations.
Women were divine in this world. Precious. Rare. Fewer than one in a thousand. They didn't marry. They were protected like sacred treasures. But the truth? They were also offered. Tributes. Tokens. Behind the smiles was a system closer to elegant prostitution.
Her father noticed the shaken look on her face. "It's alright. You were very sick for a few days. Rest more, as much you need."
Lilith forced a smile and nodded. They left her to rest, leaving a tray of food she didn't touch.
When the door clicked shut, she sat back down on the bed. Her hands trembled as they traced the shape of her new body.
"So this is my second life…?" she whispered.
Her gaze drifted across the room. Wooden shelves lined with books and soft plush dolls. A vanity table covered in lotions and ribbons. Everything smelled faintly of lilac and rose.
She was trying to gasp everything that is happening to her. She needs to remember about this world in order to adapt.
On the table beside the mirror sat a silver comb and a pendant shaped like a moon. She touched it, and another memory flickered—her younger brother—Luca, giving it to her on her last birthday.
Seventeen years, eleven months. Almost eighteen.
Her hands froze.
Eighteen?
That was the age when women were allowed—no, expected—to begin "accepting offers."
Her breath caught.
In a world where women didn't marry… and mating requests were made through formal tribute… it wasn't hard to guess what kind of future this body had been walking toward.
Lilith clenched her fists.
She sat near the window, hugging her knees to her chest. Outside, the village looked peaceful. Children played with wooden swords. Men pushed carts and laughed at crude jokes. It was a rustic paradise.
But here in this golden cage, she—once a loser otaku—was now the prize everyone would be chasing.
She didn't feel lucky.
Not anymore.
"This is what I wished for, but why does it feel so painful? Is this because of the feelings of a girl?"
Her voice trembled as she whispered to herself:
"Is this… heaven or hell?"