By day, Mei was an office worker—clicking through spreadsheets, answering emails, surviving on coffee and deadlines. By night, she was something else entirely: a creator, a dreamer, a cosplayer in the making.
But balancing both lives was harder than she'd imagined.
"Mei, are you okay? You look like a zombie," Hana whispered one morning at the office, leaning over their shared desk.
Mei stifled a yawn and rubbed her eyes. "I was up late… fixing the hem on the skirt. And then the 3D printer jammed again."
Hana snorted. "You're basically living a double life. Daytime: office drone. Nighttime: stressed-out seamstress."
"Don't remind me," Mei muttered, but there was a faint smile tugging at her lips.
---
That evening, Mei collapsed onto her apartment couch after work, her body begging her to just stay there forever. But across the room, the half-finished dress on the mannequin and the black cage choker gleaming under the lamplight seemed to call out to her.
"You'll never finish if you give up now," she whispered to herself.
Dragging herself up, she switched on her sewing machine. The familiar whir filled the apartment, mingling with the soft buzz of the 3D printer starting a new project—tiny decorative pieces to line the bodice.
Her hands shook slightly as she threaded the needle. The stitches were uneven at first, her tired brain struggling to focus. She poked her finger on the needle, hissing in pain.
"Seriously?" she groaned, sticking her finger in her mouth. "Why do people call this a hobby?"
Still, she pressed on. Stitch by stitch, she forced the fabric to obey. When her eyelids drooped, she glanced at the Captain Marvel figure on her shelf, her silent cheerleader.
"If she can save the world," Mei muttered, "I can finish one skirt."
---
Hours blurred together. Midnight passed, then one, then two. The apartment was a mess—threads scattered like confetti, fabric scraps piled in corners, the air warm from the machines running nonstop.
Finally, Mei leaned back, staring at what she had accomplished. The skirt was now even, the lace trim partially attached, and the 3D printer had produced two small ornamental pieces that would soon decorate Lady Veyra's bodice.
It still wasn't perfect. Far from it. But it was progress.
Mei sank into her chair, exhaustion pulling at her bones, but her heart was strangely light.
For a long moment, she just sat there in the quiet glow of her desk lamp, surrounded by chaos that felt, somehow, like victory.
Then she whispered, almost to herself:
"This is worth it."
And in that messy, sleepless room, Mei realized she wasn't just balancing work and cosplay—she was balancing who she was with who she wanted to be.
And little by little, the gap between the two was closing.