She felt like she couldn't breathe, so she opened her eyes.
"...?"
Glass.
The first thing that came into view was an unfamiliar room resembling a laboratory — white tables covered in complex, precision instruments, shelves in the corners lined with colorful vials and syringes. Through a thick pane of glass, she could see two figures in white lab coats sitting together, chatting.
The first thing she felt was a crushing, suffocating pressure. Then, with a start, she realized she was sealed inside what looked like a cryogenic pod. The transmigration vibes were so overwhelming she didn't even need another clue to understand what had happened.
So it looks like I've jumped into the body of someone mid-hibernation. Though it could be an artificial human — or even a robot, for all she knew. A transmigration into a cyberpunk future? Well, either way, the move right now was not to alert these people. Get a read on the lab first, then figure out how to escape.
She had no idea what they wanted with her in here, but she had absolutely no intention of becoming anyone's lab rat.
"...Hm?"
— ...Inori...?
She froze on the spot.
Because reflected in the glass, she could see a pink-haired girl in a white restraint suit. That — wasn't that Inori Yuzuriha, the heroine of Guilty Crown? Wait. Did that mean—
Instinctively, her hand moved toward her lower body. After a brief, exploratory investigation of the Jolyne variety, all she found was a deeply unfamiliar emptiness — and through the fabric, skin as soft and smooth as a newborn's. Her mind went blank. She didn't want to look. But she worked up the nerve and glanced down anyway.
A white, reflective latex bodysuit hugged a slender, perfectly proportioned figure. A gentle curve at the chest. A wisp of cherry-blossom-pink hair curling around from the back of her neck to fall over her chest.
— Right. That's enough of that.
Inori Yuzuriha. She had become Inori Yuzuriha.
...Why? She closed her eyes. Her brow furrowed slightly. A faint sting rose in the back of her nose.
Transmigrating into the world of Guilty Crown. Fine. A classic older series. Iconic moments. The combat power ceiling wasn't even that high — aside from that one troublesome virus, all she'd have to do was beat a handful of psychopaths who wanted to destroy humanity and it'd be smooth sailing. Compared to worlds with extremely high death rates, this was already a far better outcome.
But... she had never imagined she'd end up as Inori.
The anime itself was honestly just okay. You could argue the view counts rode entirely on one heroine who could fight, sing, and be considerate and gentle — but the moment she saw Ichiro Okouchi's name on the script credit and the male lead Shu Ouma call his own sick sister a "monster," she'd been ready to drop it.
And yet she hadn't been able to. They gave too much — read: extensive Inori close-ups.
So when she became Inori herself... truly, completely impossible to refuse. Was it wrong for a man to fantasize about becoming a beautiful girl? What you can't have yourself, no one else should get either.
She spent about five seconds indulging in that feeling. Then she snapped back to focus.
Current situation. Inori Yuzuriha was originally a constructed vessel — a manufactured shell to resurrect Mana Ouma, a tool built to revive the world-ending "Eve." The soul-transfer plan had never been carried out, because Gai Tsutsugami had brought his people in and rescued her before it could happen.
But that hadn't ended well either. The emotionally hollow girl had still inevitably been reduced to a plot device, before being completely enthralled by that quintessentially selfless male protagonist.
Based on the known story and the current environment, she had a rough sense of the timeline — this was probably before Gai's rescue operation. The anime never gave exact dates, but it didn't matter anymore. What mattered now was finding a way out.
She refused to spend her new life as a Void greatsword launcher.
Since she was replacing the original Inori, she had a responsibility to live well in her place — to change this character's tragic fate. But right now... her stiffened limbs had only just managed to flex a single finger. She'd only just woken up; she needed more time to recover her strength.
Still. Escaping a place under heavy guard was easier said than done. Original Inori didn't have any particular special abilities beyond providing the male protagonist with weapons. The inhuman speed and marksmanship she'd shown in combat were almost certainly skills drilled into her through Funeral Parlor training — and right now, this Inori was as fragile as a newborn.
But she wasn't worried. Because by the law of transmigration, a cheat ability and some kind of bonus system were essentially mandatory. She just hadn't found it yet. Calmly, she turned her attention inward and began searching — probing for whatever hidden power this body might be concealing.
— System, activate.
She sent the mental command. And received... nothing.
Sharingan, maybe? A dōjutsu? She used the pod's glass as a mirror and stared hard at her own eyes. Crimson irises against pristine white sclerae — a beautiful pair of eyes, carrying a faint hint of something otherworldly. But no sigils. No flowing lines of energy.
Ruled out.
Then what? A martial art? Swordsmanship? A Command Seal? Stigmata? A Stand?
She'd been racking her brain over the question of her golden finger when the word "Stand" drifted through her thoughts almost at random — and the instant it did, a dim, pinkish energy flickered across her body. A towering red figure materialized within it, passing straight through the pod wall as though it weren't there at all, and filled her vision.
"...Huh?"
She couldn't help letting out a small, startled sound.
— King Crimson?
An anthropomorphic Stand, deep red from head to toe. A powerful, lean build paired with a tall frame that radiated sheer presence. White net-like lines traced across every inch of its crimson skin, while its waist and shoulders gleamed with a metallic sheen where the red didn't reach. A genuinely imposing Stand — if you didn't look at the face.
The face was... distinctive. Protruding green eyes. No nose. And on its forehead, a second smaller face with the same features. The image that immediately leapt to mind: the emoticon `⊙皿⊙`. She'd always thought this Stand was ugly watching it through a screen, but seeing it in reality made the ugliness somehow even more egregious.
No Stand is stronger or weaker than another — except for the undisputedly invincible Star Platinum, the universally useless Hermit Purple, and the uncontestably hideous King Crimson.
Why King Crimson? Just because Inori and the Boss both have pink hair?
"What was that sound?"
"Seems like it came from her pod."
Inori couldn't normally hear anything outside the cryogenic chamber — but because King Crimson was out there, the shared senses between a Stand and its user let her detect the danger early.
And it was already urgent. The two lab personnel had registered the anomaly and risen from their chairs. They were walking this way.
She silently cursed herself for being careless — but honestly, having King Crimson's face suddenly appear inches from yours carried roughly the same shock value as a jump scare. There was nothing she could have done.
Now what? Play dead? If those two came over, they'd run diagnostics on her body. Faking unconsciousness would be impossible to sustain.
Wait. Why am I panicking? She wasn't just the helpless, delicate girl Inori anymore. She was a Stand user, wielding the invincible King Crimson. The Emperor is I, Inori!
"King Crimson!"