The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the soft ticking of the wall clock. Mei leaned against the counter, cradling her mug of green tea as though it were the only thing anchoring her restless thoughts. Steam curled upward, fogging her lips for a moment before fading into the air.
She sighed, staring down at the faint ripples inside the cup.
"Cosplay," she murmured aloud, testing the word as if it might taste different spoken than thought.
The idea had been haunting her for weeks, ever since she stumbled across a local convention announcement while scrolling through her phone at midnight. The bright poster had promised a "paradise for fans, artists, and dreamers," with cosplayers at the heart of it all. Rows upon rows of colorful costumes filled her imagination: capes, armor, wings, glowing swords, and the kind of confidence that came from stepping into another life.
It wasn't that Mei lacked confidence—her friends often told her she had a natural presence, the kind that drew eyes without trying. But cosplay wasn't just about wearing clothes. It was art, performance, a transformation.
And that terrified her.
She placed the mug gently onto the counter, her long fingers tapping the rim. Her reflection stared back at her from the darkened kitchen window: soft auburn hair falling past her shoulders, sharp eyeliner accentuating eyes that always seemed to carry a secret, and a body shape that sometimes made her feel like she already was a character someone had drawn.
Yet that reflection wasn't a knight, a sorceress, or the warrior princess she had imagined herself becoming. It was just… Mei.
The doubt in her chest tightened.
"Maybe I should just go to the convention and not dress up," she muttered.
But even as she said it, she felt the hollowness of the idea. Watching others live their dreams while she stayed a spectator would only deepen the ache she already felt.
Mei pushed away from the counter and crossed the small apartment to her desk. Her laptop was still open from earlier, a dozen tabs spread across the browser: cosplay tutorials, sewing machine reviews, wig styling guides, and "top ten beginner mistakes." She sat down and scrolled, her heart pounding with every image she saw.
One cosplayer had transformed into a glowing elf queen, her armor made of shimmering resin. Another stood as a video game assassin, twin blades strapped across her back.
And then there was the one that made Mei stop breathing for a moment: a girl cosplaying as a character from Mei's favorite series, Crimson Petals. The costume was simple—a flowing gray dress with black laces and a choker like a cage around her throat—but the look was powerful.
"She looks so strong," Mei whispered.
Her hand drifted to her own neck, brushing against the thin ribbon necklace she often wore. Could she pull off that same energy?
The idea burned brighter now, an ember catching fire.
She could already picture it: standing beneath the bright lights of the convention hall, strangers stopping her for photos, her costume making her feel like she had stepped straight out of the pages of her favorite manga. The thought was terrifying—but intoxicating.
Mei grabbed a notebook from the side of her desk, flipping past old sketches and half-finished shopping lists. She wrote at the top of a blank page:
Cosplay Project #1
And beneath it, she scribbled:
Character: Lady Veyra (Crimson Petals)
Outfit: Gray dress, black lace, cage choker
Skills needed: sewing basics, wig styling, makeup practice
Deadline: 2 months until convention
Her handwriting wavered, but her determination was steady.
A smile tugged at her lips for the first time that evening.
"This is it," she said softly. "I'll try."
It wasn't much, but it was a promise to herself.
She spent the next hour scrolling through online stores, bookmarking fabrics, and comparing prices on wigs. The mug of tea went cold beside her, forgotten, as she lost herself in planning. Every step forward made the fear shrink just a little, replaced by the thrill of creation.
Finally, near midnight, she closed her laptop and leaned back in her chair. Her body was tired, but her mind was alive.
For the first time in a long while, she felt like she wasn't just watching life pass her by—she was stepping into a new story.
Outside, the city was quiet. Inside, Mei whispered to the empty room:
"Tomorrow, I'll buy the first piece."
And with that, the journey began.