I had to spend some time in front of the mirror.
The childlike, cute voice became somewhat familiar as I muttered to myself alone for about 30 minutes.
At first, it felt like I was hearing someone else’s voice from outside, but gradually I could definitely feel it being conveyed through my bones.
My face?
My hands had been absent-mindedly poking and prodding at it, as if it were a rice cake, without rest since earlier.
The sensation was so good that I couldn’t help it.
How many times in life have I had the chance to touch a face like this?
After spending an hour blankly staring at the mirror and feeling my cheeks and various parts of my body, I was finally able to shift my thoughts elsewhere.
How did I end up becoming a woman?
Maybe I fell ill and became a woman while my identity remained the same.
Or perhaps the entire world shifted to a timeline where I am recognized as a woman.
Or I could be reincarnated, living a new life while recalling past memories…
There are various possibilities, but the way to confirm it was surprisingly simple.
“The wallet is… the same.”
The card wallet I used to pay for a taxi fare yesterday was still sitting in front of my keyboard.
Inside were a credit card opened when I became an office worker and my resident registration card.
So, I should be able to confirm by checking my ID.
I could find out who I am and how I became a woman.
My heart raced.
Majia
001122 – 40XXXXX
My age is the same.
My birthday is the same.
Only one digit of my name and the last digits of my ID number have changed.
I couldn’t take my eyes off my face, which appealed with cuteness even in the ID photo, and then, shaking my head, I picked up my phone.
The model, color, and even the roughly fitted jelly case were all the same.
When I opened the phone app to check my contacts…
“Boss, first-generation students, mom and dad…”
Everything was the same.
It seemed I had fallen into a timeline where I alone had become a woman.
Only then did I notice the hanger in the corner of the one-room apartment, and instead of the white shirt I usually wore to work, a small women’s blouse hung there, along with a women’s H-line skirt instead of gray pants.
Thinking it wasn’t necessary to look further, I went back to the mirror and lifted my eyelids up and down.
The most distinctive features were this eye color and my significantly smaller height.
“Is it possible for the eyes to be this transparent?”
I was surprised at first by the eye color, but as soon as I recalled that my great-grandfather was an American who fought in the Korean War and ended up settling here, I understood.
He was a soldier with black hair and blue eyes.
So, in reality, a very few of my relatives had blue eyes like mine.
It didn’t feel entirely foreign, probably due to my well-balanced features and black hair.
“But… isn’t my height too short?”
I felt like I was at least a hand’s breadth shorter than before.
There was an elf girl named Midori Komari in the first generation who was supposed to be 148 cm tall, and I felt even smaller than her.
As I fiddled with my thin arms that seemed like they would break if someone tapped them, I questioned whether I could hold anything properly.
In the company, I’m the one sitting in the office chair until quitting time, but still, there are things I need to do.
So, I picked up a box of unopened instant rice that was set aside.
Clink.
“… Would this be okay?”
Though it looked like it might break at any moment, it was surprisingly sturdy.
I felt that it had become somewhat harder to exert strength than before, but since I hadn’t originally been an athletic person, I didn’t feel that there was a huge difference aside from the reduced range of motion.
In the end, my identity was intact.
There were no major disruptions to my life.
My network and the company were the same, so.
Even if I go to work normally, it shouldn’t be a problem.
Everyone in the company knows me as a woman, after all.
In the end, I just needed to adapt, right?
Even though I suddenly became a woman, as long as the shows I watched with my boss and the virtual YouTubers I kept track of were the same, there was no need for me to change what I had to do.
“Today, I should leave a little early.”
Though my mind hadn’t changed much, my body had changed significantly, so if I didn’t adapt, I was bound to make a mistake someday.
Due to the nature of my work, I start seven hours later than others, working from 3 PM.
Even if I walk as usual, if my legs are short and I end up being late, I’d feel sorry for my fellow Parallel employees who are working hard at their respective places.
I can’t exactly say, “I was late because my short legs couldn’t carry me forward as I wanted.”
So, I immediately sent a message to my boss asking.
Since I thought I might stop by the 1000 won mart to pick up anything I needed on my way out.
Me: Boss
Me: Is there anything lacking in the office?
It would take at least 10 minutes for a reply, so I thought I’d check after washing up and put my phone down at that moment.
Ding!
An unbelievable speedy reply.
Boss: Not particularly?
Boss: I did run out of post-its.
Boss: But you can just get them when you go out for lunch later.
Boss: Rest well and see you later.
He was even using informal language.
The boss, who had never spoken casually to me in the five years we worked together, was now treating me like a close younger sibling.
Me: Oh, I need to stop by the 1000 won mart.
Me: I’m planning to pick some up on my way.
Me: Don’t bother coming by during lunch, I’ll get it for you.
Boss: Okay.
Boss: By the way, what do you want for dinner?
Dinner?
Why is he asking about dinner?
Me: Why dinner?
Boss: What’s with the sudden question?
Boss: Did you not want to eat with me?
What does this mean?
When did I ever eat with the boss?
The last time we ate together was probably the week after the first-generation students debuted earlier this year.
And it wasn’t just the two of us; it was a celebration with six people who knew each other’s faces, including the four first-generation students.
I replied with about ten thousand question marks floating above my head.
Me: Did we have dinner together yesterday?
Casually brushing it off in a typical amnesia manner, the CEO’s replies came pouring in.
CEO: Jiya
CEO: Are you feeling unwell?
CEO: Did you have a late-night snack after handling the Dora sound issue yesterday?
CEO: Or are you suddenly feeling dizzy or something?
That was enough of an answer.
As a woman, I had dinner with the CEO every night.
Me: No, no, no
Me: I was just joking around
CEO: Are you trying to bring out those bad habits from your past?
CEO: Anyway, just get me the post-its
CEO: See you later
CEO: Be careful on your way to work
The fact was both intriguing and puzzling.
As the CEO said, I was her troublesome viewer, one who even used to stalk her.
I was her biggest fan but could never escape the Bronze Silver Gold level of skill – appearing as a random teammate in a battle royale game and drawing all the aggro.
My nickname became “Signal Flare” because of that.
During those times, the CEO was forced to become a member of the ‘Jangpanpa’ due to the swarming enemies, and out of frustration, she would shout, “Signal Flare, you jerk!” a few times.
Although she was someone with rich emotional changes, I could count the times she swore like that on one hand, so those moments became clips that still circulate as “Maximum Momo” series.
However, isn’t there a famous saying?
Keep friends close, and enemies closer.
That’s why the CEO took the extreme step of making me her manager.
“Don’t make things chaotic while being a troublemaker, I’ll pay you to catch other troublemakers like you,” she said.
Not only did she suggest it online, but she also asked to meet in person, solidifying her intentions.
Though we met as bad acquaintances and somehow ended up working at the same company because of aligned interests, we had maintained a peculiar distance all along.
So, it was only natural for me to feel flustered when she suddenly started acting like we were close friends.
The only difference was that I had become a cute girl.
“… Could it be because of that?”
If it was due to her keeping a close watch on me because I was a former troublemaker, I could understand.
But what if her wariness disappeared just because I was cute?
Even if I acted out against the CEO, I carried the game, so if she hated losing, she might not have disliked playing games with me.
As we played together a few times and laughed, it seemed we had grown closer.
“Does that mean we can play games together…?”
Back when Momo had only 30,000 subscribers, I filled in the numbers, but after she surpassed 100,000, I had no reason to join in.
But there were two reasons I became a troublemaker.
One was that Momo enjoyed playing with me, and the other was that helping her win was fun.
So, even after Momo became a big company, I continuously borrowed secondary and friend IDs to attempt to stalk her, unbeknownst to her, I was still being troublesome.
It was becoming increasingly difficult to disguise myself to avoid being discovered while trying to break through the tiny openings in the participation chats.
But if we were friends who had dinner together, was there really a need to stalk her?
I could just ask her to play together openly.
Momo (YouTuber) Gallery
By the way, what’s Signal Flare up to these days?
She’s still playing games, but strangely, she hasn’t been stalking Momo.
It was genuinely hilarious when that jerk was stalking Momo all week.
Comments
MongMong001: Did he switch sides?
MongMong050: Signal Flare is a true troll; he’d never switch
MongMong091: There was a rumor about that before, right? About becoming a manager.
MongMong005: Was that real?
MongMong005: I thought it was just a typical rumor.
MongMong122: Being a manager doesn’t make sense.
MongMong122: If that were the case, we would’ve seen his face during the previous content with Modoongbu.
MongMong801: Did he participate but wasn’t introduced?
MongMong801: Can you confidently introduce yourself as a former troll?
MongMong801: I wouldn’t be able to say that.
MongMong122: WeMote?
MongMong122: Don’t trolls like to attract attention?
MongMong369: You can’t stalk forever, can you?
Dinner time.
While waiting for Momo to come down from the first floor of the building where the office was located, I scrolled through the gallery, looking for people curious about my news.
I left a comment.
That I would soon graduate from being a stalker.
If I were friends with the CEO, we could play games together anytime, and I wouldn’t need to stalk her; we could tease and joke around.
With high expectations, I rushed to the CEO as soon as she stepped out of the elevator and asked,
“CEO, shall we go for a meal after today’s content?”
The CEO replied nonchalantly, wearing the face of a weary working adult.
“Sorry. I’m fully booked until two months from now.”
Aren’t we friends?
Or is work more important than friendship?
My expectations crumbled instantly, and the shock was immense.
Ultimately, my instincts overwhelmed my rationality, and my inner troublemaker burst out uncontrollably.
“CEO, I want to resign.”
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