I hummed a cheerful, carefree tune, enjoying the cool breeze in my hair. I skipped lightly along the path, toying with the fishhook.
When I first touched it, its massive size instantly shrank to a perfectly manageable scale, adjusting so I could easily carry it in one hand. I was honestly grateful for that; dragging a giant bone through the woods would have completely ruined my morning stroll.
¿Where was I headed? Wherever fate decided to take me, I suppose.
Amidst the fog in my mind, the only things I could recall with any clarity —and pride— were fragments of my university days: devouring engineering textbooks and solving complex problems just to impress... ¿Who was I trying to make proud?
I brushed the thought aside with a casual shrug.
Part of me felt strangely confident that I had once understood how things worked. At the very least, if I encountered a jammed door or a mysterious machine, I'd know exactly which screw to tighten. Or so I hoped, before my focus drifted again and I went back to twirling the magic fishhook in my hand with a goofy smile.
Surely, I had a home, a family, or maybe a little dog waiting for me somewhere. Yes, that sounded logical. Perhaps if I walked far enough to find a town or a city, the locals would recognize me on sight, and everything would just sort itself out. And if, in a worst-case scenario, I turned out to be some kind of drifter with nothing to my name... well, that was the perfect excuse to lose myself on life's open roads and keep exploring new cities. I began to fantasize about the possibilities, imagining various alternate futures while ignoring the floating screen that persistently followed me.
For instance, perhaps I could become a famous adventure novelist, penning epic tales inspired by my own misfortunes, even if I couldn't recall them at the moment, and amassing a fortune from best-selling hits. Or maybe I'd open a lovely, cozy bakery in a quaint village, where the aroma of fresh bread and cinnamon rolls would draw an endless line of delighted customers, making me the region's most beloved baker as I smiled, clad in a spotless apron.
The idea of becoming an eccentric, respected inventor also crossed my mind. One of those solitary geniuses living in a tower filled with hissing gears and impossible contraptions, creating technological marvels that would leave everyone awestruck. Or, in a bolder scenario, I could become the feared yet charismatic captain of a sky-pirate crew, sailing the heavens in search of lost treasure and defying corrupt empires with a mocking laugh.
That last one was impossible, of course —at least without a ship or a crew— but I loved entertaining the thought as I walked along the path. So many options, yet so little time and money. All these fantasies were, sadly, just fantasies. First things first. I couldn't make any of my plans a reality if I died of hunger, cold, or sheer misery from never receiving a single hug.
Suddenly, a spark of absolute determination ignited in my chest. I stopped in the middle of the path, thrust my right fist into the air, and clenched it so hard my knuckles turned white. A radiant, unstoppable smile spread across my face as a warm, bubbly wave of excitement washed over me.
¡Of course! I might not know who I was or where I was, but the world was a vast canvas waiting to be conquered, and I was ready to devour it. Or at least find something tasty to eat.
Suddenly, a loud shout snapped me out of my reverie. Turning around, I spotted a boy in the distance wearing a school uniform; he had cheeks that practically begged to be pinched and was shouting—though, in truth, I'm pretty sure he was actually speaking in a low voice—someone's name.
¿Was today "Lose Someone in the Woods" day? I stood there, blinking curiously as I watched him torn between desperation and shyness. It was odd how people around here had this strange habit of losing important things among the trees. Perhaps it was part of some local initiation ritual, or maybe the universe simply had a thing for bringing disoriented people together today.
«¡Oh! It might be a festival», I thought, nodding confidently as I stroked my chin.
Yes, it made perfect sense. In my mind, that forest, the bewildered students rushing about, the floating screens, and the magical hooks falling from the sky fit perfectly with the theme of a wildly extravagant annual festival. Surely, just around the corner, I would find street food stalls, carnival rides, and people selling cotton candy.
Determined not to miss a single detail of the supposed festivities, I straightened up and headed toward the sweet boy with the squishable cheeks, fully intending to say hello and ask when the fireworks, and the snacks nearing their expiration date, would begin.
—¡Saludos! — I said in Spanish, though judging by the look on the little guy's face, I highly doubted he knew a word of the language. —¿Me puedes decir qué leches pasa aquí?
The boy stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide with surprise, and stared at me as if I'd just dropped out of the sky. He blinked a few times, processing both my bilingual greeting and the fact that I had a massive mythical relic slung over my shoulder, along with a smile that was completely out of place for the situation. I leaned forward slightly, shifting my weight onto one foot with total confidence, delighted to have found someone to interact with amidst all the madness.
—¿What?— he replied.
A moment later, he stared at me for an uncomfortably long time. His eyes shifted from confusion to skepticism and, finally, to sheer astonishment.
—¿Rémy? — he asked, taking a couple of cautious steps closer. —¿What the hell happened to your hair?
I blinked, tilting my head in genuine bewilderment.
¿Did he know me? ¿And, more importantly, what was wrong with my hair? I raised my free hand to one of the white strands falling over my forehead and rubbed it between my fingers. As far as I knew —which, I admit, wasn't much, given my sudden memory loss— it had always been this fabulous shade. ¡Wait a minute! I completely forgot about my hair the moment my brain registered the most important detail of the moment.
¡¿You know me?! —I squealed with delight, hopping up and down on the spot and completely ignoring the fishhook swinging dangerously just inches from his face. —¡Thank God! I've felt so lonely for a while now. Well, technically only a few minutes have passed, but I was already getting bored of being the only lively person in this forest!
I closed the distance between us in the blink of an eye, invading his personal space with a dazzling smile.
—So, since we seem to be such close friends... ¿would you tell me your name, little buddy with the adorable cheeks? ¿And do you happen to know where they put my tent or my VIP pass for this festival?
The boy didn't react at all for the first twenty seconds. Then he blinked before speaking in a weary, hopeless tone.
—¿Why are you torturing me like this?
I didn't know what to say.
My dazzling smile faltered for the first time.
I blinked a few times, feeling the festive atmosphere I'd built up in my head suddenly deflate. ¿Torture him? ¡But I was just being friendly! I lowered the tip of my magic hook to the ground with a soft thud, tilting my head as I looked at him, genuinely confused by his dramatic reaction. Every trace of amusement vanished, replaced by a pang of guilt when I saw the genuine distress on his face.
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An hour later, sitting on a park bench in some charming town, after this boy (Shinji, apparently) had given me a quick rundown of my supposed life and everything that had happened leading up to this moment, I felt nothing but disappointment.
¿Was that my grand story? ¿No sky pirates, no corrupt empires, not even a modest, successful bakery? I crossed my arms and frowned, letting out a sigh as I processed the dull, tragic reality that had just shattered my fantasy.
—Well, I suppose that explains that blasted little screen that's been popping up in front of my face for a while now.
In response, Shinji tapped his palm with his fist. He simply caught the holographic window between his fingers as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He swiped his index finger through the air, dragging translucent tabs and pushing aside floating windows with a familiarity that fascinated me.
He navigated through a series of submenus and icons until he opened what appeared to be a party status menu or character list. There, in the center of the glowing screen, a 3D model identical to me appeared, slowly rotating, complete with my magic hook resting on my shoulder. Shinji narrowed his eyes, quickly reading the lines of glowing text floating beside my avatar. It didn't take long for him to release the screen, letting it vanish into thin air in a flicker of blue pixels and rub his temples with both hands; he seemed to age at least ten years all at once as he processed my ridiculous new diagnosis.
—¿What is it? —I asked.
He let out a soft chuckle before fixing his gaze on mine.
—Nothing serious, at least. ¿Are you allergic to anything? Anything that makes you sneeze will do.
«What a specific question» I thought. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to rack my freshly formatted brain for something that fit that odd requirement.
Suddenly, a hand seized Shinji's wrist with relentless force and speed, completely overpowering my poor friend, who let out a sharp cry of alarm.
—Found you — said a girl; she looked visibly exhausted and was panting heavily. She was a young woman with short, greenish hair, dressed in a black uniform. It might have been beside the point, but I was certain her outfit had been crafted by the most talented tailors on this side of the pond. I would love to have one for myself.
I stayed there, clinging to the Hook. I tilted my head, brushing aside a stray lock of hair, and felt a wave of empathy for the newcomer. Poor girl, her exhaustion was evident.
Shinji was trembling like a leaf, his eyes wide with panic; he couldn't string a single coherent sentence together as his gaze darted between the girl and me, silently pleading for help.
—You're lucky we found you first —she said. —So, you're coming with me the easy way or the hard way, got it? Now, spill it ¿Where is your friend?
The whole situation struck me as utterly absurd. Although I hadn't paid much attention to Shinji's earlier rundown, I suddenly recalled him mentioning three people who supposedly intended to kidnap us. The irony was that it had apparently been "me" —or the "me" from before the amnesia— who had so fervently begged us to run away.
Yet, seeing her up close, I couldn't find a real reason not to hear her out, no matter how bossy and aggressive she seemed. For my part, I was perfectly willing to talk. If i were the one being held against my will, I honestly wouldn't mind sitting tight until I'd exhausted every dialogue option this game had to offer. But she was clearly hurting Shinji, and that sparked a small flame of anger in my heart.
I did the same as her and grabbed the wrist she was using to hold my friend. She jumped, finally noticing me, and tried to pull away sharply. However, I held firm and applied pressure. Just a little, enough to force her to release Shinji.
—¡Hey! —I chimed in with my brightest, friendliest smile, completely ignoring the tense atmosphere. —Excuse me for butting in, ¿but don't you think you're overreacting?
—¡Let me go this instant! — she shouted, actively trying to loosen my grip.
She started thrashing around, desperately trying to break free, but her surprise grew when she realized it was completely impossible for her to get away from me. She seemed unable to believe that I couldn't budge an inch despite all the force she was applying. I felt sorry for her, to be honest, but I still wouldn't dare let go until she calmed down or got tired.
Frowning in frustration, she threw a quick punch with her free hand straight at my face, but I reacted in time: I raised my hand, intercepted her blow in mid-air, and caught her other wrist with the same ease.
I tilted my head with a slight, mocking smile, enjoying her bewilderment far too much.
Far from being intimidated, the girl took advantage of the fact that I was holding both her arms and that my guard was momentarily down. Throwing her full weight onto the hands I was holding, she propelled herself upward with impressive agility and, in a swift motion, launched herself into the air to land a clean, direct kick right on my nose.
It was painful in the sense that it was an absolute nuisance. Tears instantly sprang to my eyes, completely clouding my vision, yet I flatly refused to let go of her. However, the precise blow to the bridge of my nose triggered a chain reaction I couldn't stop. A sudden, violent itch seized my nostrils, causing my body to convulse in an instant sneeze.
—¡Achoo! —I sneezed forcefully.
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—¡Oh my Lord! —Rémy shouted.
He woke up like someone who had been violently shaken in bed. Barely self-aware and completely dazed. It wasn't just a blink; he was trapped between unconsciousness and a waking dream. Conscious and unconscious at the same time, locked in a cage of memories and bizarre simulations of surreal events. A cage he couldn't escape, no matter how hard he tried. The faint itch in his nose struck him with full force just seconds after his return.
—¡Quick, someone kill me!
That was the last thing he shouted before slipping back into lethargy.
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¡Damn! ¿How hard does this girl hit?
The force of that kick, which I had monumentally underestimated, knocked me out cold for a moment. And to top it all off, that cursed itch came back with a vengeance.
¡Achoo!
I sneezed violently. Darkness rushed back in. Then light, and once again I was left semi-conscious, trapped on a mental rollercoaster where my brain acted like a burnt-out lightbulb flickering in a spooky hallway.
Those chaotic jolts felt like an eternity, though fortunately, they ended as quickly as they had begun. In front of me, I was still holding my prisoner —her wrists firmly secured— but the girl had stopped struggling. She stood there with her jaw dropped, her face paper-white, paralyzed by such profound astonishment that her soul seemed to have temporarily detached from her body upon witnessing such a bizarre, flickering spectacle.
Once again, I realized that this person really loved to overreact.
—Hey, your face is going to freeze like that if you keep making that expression — I remarked, arching an eyebrow.
—¿What the hell is wrong with you? —she finally asked.
I was about to answer when an annoying buzzing sound caught my attention. Turning my head, I saw the same sweet-looking girl from earlier, only now she was flying on a broomstick, speeding straight toward me with anything but friendly intentions.
Deciding I'd had enough interaction with the bossy girl, I immediately let go of one of her hands. I turned to face the new threat, raised my hand, and simply grabbed the broomstick out of the air. It was a perfect, solid grip; the wood didn't even shudder as it came to a dead stop. Unfortunately, I forgot to account for the laws of physics. Because the broom stopped so abruptly, the girl riding it lost her grip completely and went flying over my head like a projectile, flailing her arms before landing face-first in the bushes.
—¡Oh my God! —I shouted. —¡I'm so sorry!
Just as I was about to go help her, a cold, heavy metallic *click* made my blood run cold. I turned around, and my heart skipped a beat. The bossy girl had recovered from her shock and was now using her newly freed arm to aim a massive, dark revolver straight at my face, her finger tightening on the trigger and a murderous look in her eyes. Panic seized me. Driven by pure, blind survival instinct, I squeezed my eyes shut and swiped clumsily forward, trying only to knock the weapon out of my line of sight so I wouldn't die.
However, I had completely forgotten that wielding that hook boosted my physical strength to superhuman levels, even without holding it directly. My fist didn't just deflect the weapon; it slammed straight into her face with the devastating force of a speeding truck. The sound of the impact made me freeze. I felt her nose shatter beneath my knuckles as several of her teeth went flying through the air, glinting briefly in the daylight.
The girl was sent flying backward and collapsed onto the ground like a sack of potatoes, knocked unconscious instantly, long before her head even hit the grass. I stood frozen, my hand still outstretched, gasping for breath in sheer terror. When I opened my eyes and looked down, I saw the poor girl sprawled out, her face bloodied and marked by a massive, throbbing red welt in the exact shape of my fist.
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—BROADCAST ROYALTIES—
Status: Reward received.
Details: You effortlessly humiliated two experienced sorceresses.
"That hurts the pride more than the body."
Sorcerers/Curses reduced to NPCs: 2
Credits earned: 1,000
—BONUS RECEIVED—
Sorcerers successfully defeated
MISSION STATUS: COMPLETED
OBJECTIVE: Second-year students
PERFORMANCE ANALYSIS: Your harmless appearance led to you being completely underestimated. Thanks to your flawless disguise and acting, you defeated a genuine enemy for the first time. One who didn't just beg for their life.
Credits received: 3,000
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—¡¿A reward?! Don't make fun of them!
I lashed out at the screen with all my might. It vanished just before I could touch it, but I ignored that and stood frozen solid, petrified in a pose of sheer panic. My knees knocked together so violently they sounded like a pair of out-of-control maracas. My head whipped back and forth at dizzying speed, darting between my two victims.
First, I'd look at the girl with the revolver, sprawled on the grass with her nose smashed in and that huge red mark; then I'd frantically turn toward the bushes, where the broom-wielding girl's legs were still sticking up, pointing at the sky.
¡¿What had I just done?! ¡¿Was I a monster?!
I clutched my head with both hands, tugging at my hair in desperation. ¿Should I call an ambulance? ¿Give them mouth-to-mouth? ¡No, with this kind of strength, I'd probably burst their lungs! My brain short-circuited, leaving me trapped in a loop of terror and remorse, not knowing what to do.
I didn't calm down until a kindly old man passing by discovered the accident and called an ambulance.
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Several hours had passed since that mortifying incident. I was safe now, sheltered in a cozy house that ,for some strange reason, felt like my own.
While exploring the odd floating screens surrounding me, I made a wonderful discovery
¡I possessed an impressive amount of something called "credits"!
Apparently, I was rich. And like any responsible girl who had just survived a near-death trauma, I decided the best therapy was a shopping spree.
Now, standing before the bedroom mirror, I twirled around with a grin stretching from ear to ear. I was wearing a stunning outfit. A red leather jacket over a form-fitting black dress, paired with a silver cross necklace, that made me feel like the commander of a secret organization controlling giant robots. And that wasn't all. A mountain of wonderful, utterly useless accessories lay on the bed, and I couldn't stop admiring them.
Plushies of bizarre creatures, mugs bearing motivational quotes, and tiny, glittering trinkets that the virtual shop had delivered instantly. Purchases kept pouring in with every tap of the screen. I got so swept up in the magic of consumerism that, before I knew it, those seemingly infinite credits had plummeted straight to zero. I picked up a plush penguin and hugged it tenderly, feeling like the luckiest person in the world. After all, money existed solely to be spent.
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Cartman and Shinji stayed close, eyeing the various items scattered across the floor.
—¿So, he just showed up like that? —Cartman asked, narrowing his eyes. His fat, lazy backside hadn't left his seat all day.
He had broken into a cold sweat, paralyzed by the fear that the wretch might magically summon him and drag him into another suicide mission. But now, gazing at the pathetic state of his tormentor, the tension drained from his body, and a wide, malicious grin spread across his face.
—Using this should do the trick —Shinji replied. He pulled a light, dusty feather duster from one of the kitchen shelves.
—¡Don't be an idiot, Shinji! —Cartman growled, stepping in his way. —Think about it for a second. If we leave him like this, trapped in that Girl Scout body, we'll be free. No more monsters, no more beatings or suicide missions. We can just let him rot in the corner like a piece of tacky decor and finally have some peace. ¡It's our golden opportunity!
Shinji gripped the feather duster tightly, glancing over at the pitiful, unrecognizable figure before them. Although the prospect of never risking his neck again was secretly tempting, guilt weighed too heavily on him to agree to such a cruel and ruthless plan. True to his evasive nature, he decided the best response was no response at all.
He simply let out a complaining sigh, shrugged, and walked past, completely ignoring the chubby boy's manipulative spiel as he moved in to start dusting off his boss.
—¡Screw you, then! ¡Stay there and suffer with that sicko, you faggot!
Cartman muttered, outraged that his brilliant plan to abandon ship had been so easily rejected. Turning heavily, he began to shuffle toward the door, muttering insults and curses as he walked away to find a safer place to loaf about.
—¿Aren't you going to stop the fat kid? —Shinji asked, addressing this... alternate Rémy.
She simply watched as the boy disappeared down the hallway.
—¿Me? ¿Who am I to stop him? He's free to do whatever he pleases with his life. The mere fact that it's my fault he was dragged into this world doesn't give me the right to...
Suddenly, Rémy froze. A revelation struck her with the force of a lightning bolt, draining the color from her face.
—Wait a minute... ¡¿does that mean I'm his mother?!
Shinji decided to switch off his brain and tickle Rémy's nose with the feather; she sneezed a moment later.
¡Achoo!
The powerful sneeze instantly broke the spell. And with it, the system's magic seemed to short-circuit. In the blink of an eye, the elegant red jacket, the black dress, the cross necklace, and even the last action figure, stuffed animal, and neon light adorning the room vanished into thin air as if they had never existed, taking that strange alternate persona with them. The real problem was that her clothes disappeared along with everything else.
When Rémy came to and blinked, confused by the sudden change, Shinji dropped the feather; his eyes were wide, his face flushed a deep red, and he made a choked sound as he desperately tried to look anywhere but at her.
It took Rémy a couple of seconds to process the cold air brushing directly against her skin, revealing that he was back in her female body and stark naked.
—¿¡What the hell?! — he screamed upon seeing that all his credits were gone —¡That bastard!
Completely ignoring her nudity and the fact that Shinji was still covering his eyes while muttering incoherent prayers, he stormed furiously toward his room. He rummaged under the bed until she pulled out the case housing hid PALLET assault rifle.
The unmistakable metallic click of a heavy weapon being cocked made Shinji open his eyes. Panic paralyzed him as he saw the naked girl, weeping uncontrollably, holding the massive tactical rifle.
—¡Goodbye, cruel world. A life like this isn't worth living! —Rémy announced, his voice cracking. He lifted the heavy rifle and tried to aim the barrel at his own forehead. physics and military design were not on his side: the barrel was so ridiculously long that, when he positioned it against his head, her arms couldn't reach the trigger.
—¡Rémy, calm down, please! —Shinji shrieked, torn between covering his eyes and taking the weapon away from her.
—¡Don't stop me! —he sobbed, attempting to stretch out her leg to pull the trigger with his big toe; he lost his balance miserably and landed hard on the wooden floor.
It took at least twenty hours for her to calm down.