The corridor on the twenty-fifth floor of the elite residential complex "Orion Residence" looked as if it had been cut out of a fresh issue of an interior design magazine for billionaires.
White marble, the subdued warm light of wall sconces, abstract paintings, and an absolute, almost sterile cleanliness.
The air delicately smelled of ozone and a light citrus perfume.
And in the middle of all this splendor stood us.
Me, in a light-absorbing black cloak, from under which only the collar of a black sweater was visible (the remains of the exclusive Kevlar jacket were resting in the Inventory).
And Takemichi, who looked like a shipwreck survivor in an acid sea: his school uniform had dissolved in places, a yellow hard hat had melted tightly to his hair, and thick drops of the Abyss Eater's greenish slime were dripping from his clothes onto the virgin-clean marble floor.
— "Satoru..." whimpered Takemichi, shifting from foot to foot. A giant bag of loot clinked dully behind his back.
— "The concierge downstairs looked at us in such a way... I think he already called the police. Or the exorcists."
— "Let them call whoever they want," I lazily adjusted the black blindfold, squaring my shoulders.
The elixir was still bubbling in my veins, filling my body with an absolute, intoxicating lightness. My chin was held high.
— "I just saved this city from a dungeon overflow."
— "If they don't roll out a red carpet for us, I'll fold space for them myself. Ring the doorbell."
Takemichi reached out with a trembling, stained finger to the touch panel by the massive oak door, but didn't have time to touch it.
The lock clicked. The door swung open smoothly.
Marin Kitagawa stood on the threshold. In her right hand, she gripped heavy, threateningly gleaming tailor's scissors, and her gaze shot such lightning that even my [ Infinity ] instinctively condensed.
Her blonde hair was disheveled, her chest heaving heavily with anger.
Somewhere deep in the living room loomed Ai Hoshino in her yellow bunny pajamas.
The idol stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, and looked at us with such lively, genuine interest, as if she had just been turned on to the best blockbuster of the year.
A dead silence hung in the air. We looked at the girls. The girls looked at us.
Marin's gaze slowly, millimeter by millimeter, slid over my new cloak, and then returned to my face.
— "Well, hello," I broke the silence first, imposing my hands in my pockets and smiling widely, brazenly.
— "Sorry we don't have flowers. Floristry is a bit lacking in the Red Gates. But we brought..."
— "The jacket," Marin's voice was quiet, vibrating with suppressed fury. She took a step forward.
The scissors in her hand clacked predatorily. — "Where. Is. My. Jacket."
— "It became unusable," I shrugged frivolously, not losing my signature smile.
— "It turned out to be not as durable as you promised. But don't worry, I found a better replacement."
Marin gasped with indignation. Her face broke out in red blotches. — "Not as durable?!" she squealed, swinging the scissors.
— "I sewed it for three days! I put my soul into it!"
— "And you took it off, put on this show-off cloak of yours, and then on top of that called my hairpin STUPID in front of all of Japan?!"
I opened my mouth to deliver another pretentious, condescending barb in the style of the Strongest, when suddenly the world froze before my eyes.
A blindingly blue system window flashed right in front of my face. It was twice as large as usual, and the text shimmered with gold.
[ WARNING! CRITICAL ACHIEVEMENT! ]
[ Audience reach has exceeded 50,000,000 people. ]
[ Your image is imprinted in the collective consciousness of the nation. ]
[ Synchronization with the "Gojo Satoru" Template has reached 100%. ]
[ CONGRATULATIONS! ]
[ You have completely mastered the soul of the Strongest. ]
[ System Penalty: "Character Personality Influence" — DISABLED. ]
At that very second, it was as if an invisible, taut string snapped in my head.
The pressure of a foreign ego, of a foreign all-encompassing superiority, which had been sitting on my subcortex all this time and dictating my reactions, simply... vanished.
I blinked. My mind cleared with such frightening sharpness that I swayed slightly.
I was no longer looking at the world through the prism of an absolute God, for whom people were just amusing ants.
I was... myself again. An ordinary guy who just got cool powers.
And then the memories of the last twenty-four hours crashed down on me.
«I am the Strongest.» «Listen here, you incompetents from the Association.» «...stupid pink hairpin and disgusting taste in fabric...»
The realization of what incredible, unbearable, cringy nonsense I had been doing all this time hit me in the gut worse than any A-rank Boss.
I publicly insulted people. I showed off in front of the cameras. I let some monster devour Takemichi, simply because I was «curious to see»!
And, worst of all, I publicly humiliated the work of a girl who stayed up nights to sew me armor.
The flush of shame instantly flooded my cheeks. The heat rose from my neck to the very tips of my ears.
The pretentious smirk slid off my face like melted snow. My body language, which just a second ago screamed of domination, changed sharply: my shoulders slumped, my hands awkwardly jerked out of my pockets.
I mechanically scratched the back of my head.
— "And why are you silent?!" Marin advanced, waving her scissors. — "Nothing to say, Mr. Strongest?!"
— "Marin..." my voice trembled. The velvet, arrogant notes had completely disappeared from it. — "I... oh my god..."
I abruptly bent over at a perfect ninety-degree angle in the deepest bow.
My back became absolutely straight, and my head dropped so low that I almost hit my nose on my own knees.
— "PLEASE FORGIVE ME!" I shouted sincerely, at the top of my lungs, without straightening up.
Marin, already prepared to tell me everything she thought about my ancestry, choked on air.
The scissors in her hand froze a millimeter from my cloak.
A quiet, surprised exclamation from Ai came from deep down the corridor. The idol instantly read the change — the "mask" of the God had fallen off, exposing an ordinary, terribly embarrassed person.
— "I acted like an absolute, total jerk!" I continued speaking to the floor, feeling my cheeks burn.
— "Your jacket saved my life! I didn't take it off for style, it was really torn apart by the crystalline mantis!"
— "And I didn't throw it away, I have it in my Inventory!"
— "And what I said on TV... I swear, I don't know what came over me! It was some kind of eclipse!"
— "Your hairpin is amazing, and you have the best taste in Tokyo! Forgive me!"
Such a silence hung in the air that you could hear the slime bubbling on Takemichi's hard hat.
I carefully raised my head. Marin stood with her mouth slightly open. Her saucer-eyes darted uncertainly over my face, which still sported the black blindfold, but which now expressed the utmost degree of remorse.
All her anger, inflated like a balloon, had just run into the needle of my sincere apologies.
She slowly lowered the scissors. Her cheeks also began to turn traitorously pink.
— "Y-you..." Marin stumbled, nervously fiddling with the edge of her t-shirt. — "Did you really keep the remains of the jacket? You didn't throw it away?"
— "I would never do that in my life!" I hurriedly straightened up, still feeling awkward.
— "I brought it so you could see if anything at all could be saved. And I will pay for all the materials. Tenfold."
— "I swear."
— "Well..." Marin sniffled, turning away and crossing her arms over her chest. Her voice became quiet and embarrassed.
— "If so... Then fine. And... thanks for coming back alive. You jerk."
Ai Hoshino laughed quietly, melodically, approaching us. — "What a stunning character rebirth," she looked at me with a smile.
— "Come in already, 'Strongest'. Otherwise, your friend will completely dissolve into this puddle right now."
— "P-please..." — rasped Takemichi, sliding down the doorframe.
— "Can I take a shower?"
— "I promise not to touch the towels... I'll just stand under the boiling water..."
— "Second door on the right! And leave the bag here on the tile, don't drag it onto the carpet!"
— immediately commanded Marin, stepping aside and letting us inside.
I stepped over the threshold, feeling a giant stone fall from my shoulders. We are home. We are safe.
The System's influence is lifted, and I am fabulously rich.
The "Icarus Credit" timer in the corner of my vision showed:
[ Time remaining: 02 hours 14 minutes ].
The sound of running water from the guest bathroom hadn't stopped for twenty minutes already.
Apparently, Takemichi was trying not only to wash the acid slime of the Abyss Eater off himself, but also to erase the very memory of tonight along with the top layer of his epidermis.
I sat on the edge of the snow-white sofa, slouched and wearily lowering my head.
The black blindfold had slid down to my forehead, revealing tired eyes that were no longer blazing with an insane divine light.
— "Here. Chamomile and lemon balm. Calms the nerves," an elegant porcelain mug appeared right in front of my nose, emitting thick floral steam.
I looked up. Ai Hoshino stood before me, still in the same oversized yellow bunny pajamas, offering the tea.
Her starry eyes looked at me with a slight, almost maternal mockery.
— "Thanks," I took the mug with both hands, feeling the warmth heat up my icy fingers.
I glanced at the huge electronic clock built into the smart home panel on the wall.
The red numbers glowed mercilessly: 03:42.
— "Almost four in the morning"— I stated hoarsely, taking a small sip.
— "Normal pop idols should have been asleep a long time ago, so as not to have bags under their eyes."
— "And normal schoolgirls - dreaming their tenth dream before classes."
— "Normal schoolgirls don't sew thermo-Kevlar for white-haired anomalies from the TV," came Marin's cheerful voice from the floor.
She sat cross-legged on her favorite fluffy rug. The ruined fabric had been neatly set aside.
Now, a palette with acrylic paints, brushes, and sponges was laid out in front of her.
In her hands, Marin was focusedly twirling... a long, pointed ear made of silicone.
— "What is that?" I blinked in incomprehension. My brain, deprived of the computing power of the "Six Eyes", was thinking sluggishly.
— "Did you decide to change races? Why do you need elven ears at four in the morning?"
— "Because I must become the best elf in the history of cosplay!"
— proudly declared Marin, carefully applying a pinkish shadow to the tip of the silicone. — "Do you even know what day it is today?!"
— "Tonight is the premiere of the anime adaptation of 'Frieren: Beyond Journey's End'! The manga is simply the masterpiece of the millennium, and Madhouse studio promises to break all ratings!"
— "My costume is almost ready, I just need to tint the ears to match my skin color..."
She stretched her arm with the elven ear forward, critically examining it. — "What do you think, is it too pale?"
— "Frieren is a thousand years old, she rarely goes out in the sun, but she's not a corpse..."
— "I have no idea who Frieren is," I sincerely shrugged, barely suppressing a yawn.
— "I'm more into battle shonens. The ones where everyone punches each other in the face, instead of living for a thousand years."
— "But the ear looks... anatomical. Good luck with that."
Marin looked at me with such genuine condemnation, as if I had just spat on a shrine.
— "Not knowing Frieren... What a blasphemy. Fine, I forgive you, you had a hard night today with all those spatial distortions."
— "By the way..." her gaze fell on the back of the chair, where my "Mechanic's Shadow" cloak was carelessly hanging.
The seamstress's eyes narrowed again with professional hunger. — "Will you give me that thing to tear apart? Well, so I can study the seams?"
— "You can even submit it for experiments," I waved it off weakly. — "Just don't burn it."
At that moment, the bathroom door opened with a loud click.
Takemichi crawled into the living room, slapping his bare feet on the marble floor.
The girls had clearly given him something from their stash, because the blond was now sporting a fluffy, soft pink terrycloth robe.
The robe was a bit short for him and barely covered his knees, but that wasn't the main problem.
His hair was clean, his face washed of dirt and soot.
But right on the crown of his head, tightly melted into his light brown locks, still sat the half-melted yellow miner's hard hat.
— "It won't wash off..." Takemichi said in a deadened voice, tugging at the visor.
The plastic squeaked pitifully, and the blond winced in pain. — "This acid fused the plastic with my hair!"
— "I scrubbed it with soap, shampoo, even toilet bowl cleaner... If I pull any harder, I'll take it off along with my scalp!"
— "Satoru, I beg you, do something with your magic!"
I looked at this miserable warrior in a pink robe and with a yellow patch on his head.
— "Prophet, I'd gladly do it," I sighed heavily, feeling my eyelids fill with lead. — "But I am absolutely empty."
— "If I try to cut off this plastic with residual [ Blue ] right now, I'll accidentally rip your head off along with the hard hat."
— "Let's leave it until morning. I'll sleep, my channels will recover, and I'll take everything off like a jeweler. I promise."
Ai Hoshino snorted quietly into her mug of tea, and her starry eyes flashed mischievously.
— "'Until morning' sounds very optimistic, Gojo-kun," the idol nodded expressively at the electronic clock. — "Dawn is in about an hour."
— "Will your divine metabolism really have enough with sixty minutes for a full recharge?"
I groaned, rubbing the bridge of my nose. — "Right now, my metabolism would have enough with even five minutes in a horizontal position."
— "If I don't lie down, I'll fall asleep standing right here, and you'll use me as a coat rack for the cloak."
— "But what about me?" Takemichi sniffled, almost crying. — "I need to go home... Hina will kill me."
— "I haven't called her all evening!"
— "It's twenty to four on the clock, the subway is closed, and the streets are full of Association patrols," Ai reasonably noted, putting down her mug.
— "You'll be arrested just for how you look. You'll spend the night here."
She pointed her hand towards the corridor. — "Gojo-kun, the guest bedroom is at your disposal. There's a huge bed there."
— "Takemichi-kun, we'll lay out a futon for you on the floor in his room. I hope you guys don't fight."
— "I couldn't even fight a pillow right now," I muttered, struggling to get up from the sofa. My legs felt like cotton.
The System timer on the periphery of my vision flashed an alarming red color.
[ Time remaining: 00 hours45 minutes. Warning: approaching critical cooldown of the Vessel. ]
The body, which had been working to the point of exhaustion all day under horse doses of adrenaline, system elixirs, and someone else's ego, began to rapidly give out.
I felt the mana channels inside me vibrating finely, painfully, like overheated wires.
— "Alright," I squeezed out a weak smile. — "Good night, girls. Thanks for the shelter and... for the tea."
I trudged towards the guest room. Takemichi, clinking his pink belt and plastic hard hat, drearily trailed behind me.
Behind my back, I heard Marin quietly humming some melody unfamiliar to me, continuing to color her silicone elven ears.
Closing the bedroom door behind me, I didn't even bother getting undressed.
I just collapsed face down into the soft pillows of the huge double bed, feeling the darkness instantly flood my consciousness.
The last thing I saw before completely passing out was a bright red, pulsating System window.
[ CRITICAL THREAT TO LIFE! ]
[ The "Icarus Credit" effect time is expiring. ]
[ The Vessel cannot withstand 100% density of the Template. ]
[ Multiple ruptures of mana channels detected. ]
[ Activating emergencysurvival protocol... ]
Sleep brought no relief. Usually, when a person falls into oblivion after a hard day, they feel relaxation.
I, on the other hand, felt like I was being boiled alive in a cauldron of liquid lead.
The darkness of my subconscious was not empty. It pulsated with a toxic red light, and right before my eyes, on the inside of my eyelids, system logs began to unfold at a frightening speed.
They howled like air raid sirens.
[ CRITICAL ERROR! ]
[ The mana density of the "Gojo Satoru(100%)" Template exceeds the Vessel's carrying capacity by 4000%. ]
[ 148 micro-tears in main energy channels detected. ]
[ Forecast:Complete collapse of the physical body, spontaneous combustion, and death of the Host in 3 minutes 12 seconds. ]
Through the haze of oblivion, I tried to move, to scream, to call for help, but my body no longer belonged to me.
It had turned into a ticking time bomb, inside which raged the energy of the Strongest mage, trapped in the fragile shell of a mortal guy.
My bones cracked. My blood boiled.
[ Activation of Emergency Survival Protocol. ]
[ Searching for a solution: Complete blockage and compression of the aura is required to stop the destruction of the Vessel. ]
[ Initiation of forced "Rescue Gacha". ]
«What other gacha?!» panickily wailed my fading consciousness. «System, I don't have any tickets!»
[ Searching for a suitable Template with extreme mana suppression skills... ]
[ Suitable option found: Template "Elven Mage (Beyond Journey's End)". ]
[ Template Trait: Unique physiology, ability to compress mana to zero values, passive channel cooling.]
[ Template Status: Temporary physiological replacement.]
The red light changed to gold. And then an inscription appeared that hit me harder than the breath of the Bone Tyrant or the stomach acid of the Abyss Eater.
It was a blow right to the heart.
[ Deducting funds for emergency medical restructuring... ]
[ Cost of operation: 75,000 Coins. ]
[ Cost of Temporary Template: 40,000 Coins. ]
[ Total payable: 115,000 System Coins. ]
«STOP! NO! I FARMED THEM ALL NIGHT! THAT'S MY APARTMENT! THAT'S MY PENTHOUSE!»— my astral projection in the subconscious started banging its head against an invisible wall.
I literally felt the virtual coins clinking as they slipped through my fingers into the bottomless maw of the System.
[ Transaction approved. ]
[ Your current balance: - 340 System Coins. ]
[ Warning: You have gone into the negative. ]
[ Interest on the loan has been charged. ]
If I could cry in my sleep, I would have flooded this bed. I was broke again.
Moreover — I was in debt! The greatest mage of Japan, conqueror of the Red Gates, now owed the System three hundred and forty coins.
But I didn't have to mourn my finances for long. The systemic robbery was followed by what I had actually paid for.
[ Beginning of morphological restructuring. Forced race change to: "Elf". ]
The heat burning my insides suddenly gave way to an absolute, bone-chilling arctic cold.
It wasn't like ice magic — more like if white-hot metal was abruptly plunged into a vat of liquid nitrogen.
My bubbling, infinite Gojo Satoru mana suddenly began to compress rapidly.
It condensed, folding into a tiny, incredibly dense point somewhere around the solar plexus.
The System was literally sealing my power to save the torn channels.
And then the body itself began to change. Through my sleep, I felt a strange, pulling ache in all my muscles.
My almost two-meter height, perfect musculature, broad shoulders — all of this began to shrink, melt, and reconstruct into a new, much more compact and miniature frame.
The skin became unnaturally smooth and pale. The white, spiky hair sticking out in all directions rapidly lengthened, becoming soft and heavy, scattering across the pillow.
And then I felt a strange itch at the tips of my ears. The cartilage stretched, sharpened, becoming long and sensitive to the slightest rustle.
The process was painful, but at the same time, it brought an incredible, all-consuming calmness.
The aggression of the Strongest disappeared. The desire to prove my superiority to the whole world vanished.
Gojo Satoru's ego, which had been unlocked by the one hundred percent synchronization, was now finally crushed under the granite slab of a thousand-year elven apathy.
My thoughts slowed down. The panic over the lost money evaporated somewhere, replaced by a melancholic: «Well, a hundred thousand coins is just a couple of months of farming... on the scale of a century, that's not even a second... I can wait».
I suddenly lost the desire to run anywhere. Save the world? Give interviews? Farm dungeons? What nonsense.
Humans fuss so much over every little thing, even though life is so short.
The only thing I really wanted right now was to wrap myself in a warm blanket, curl up into a little ball, and sleep until about lunchtime.
Or maybe until next Tuesday. And find a grimoire that turns bad-tasting tea sweet.
[ Restructuring complete. Mana channels stabilized. ]
[ Sweet dreams, Host. ]
The room was quiet. Somewhere below, on the futon, Takemichi snuffled peacefully, occasionally squeaking with the hard hat fused to his hair.
He didn't know that on the bed above him, there was no longer the Strongest mage capable of wiping Tokyo off the face of the earth with a single wave of his hand.
There, cozily wrapped in a giant blanket, slept a fragile white-haired elf with long ears, who tomorrow morning would have to break the psyche of a certain very emotional cosplayer.
The night went on. And with it, dawn inexorably approached.
Morning in Ai Hoshino's secret penthouse didn't start with the melodic ringing of an alarm clock, but with the smell of slightly burnt toast and a rhythmic, joyful humming.
Sunbeams breaking through the slightly open blinds of the panoramic windows flooded the spacious living room with warm golden light.
Marin Kitagawa, who had already managed to take a shower and pull on her favorite home shorts with an oversized t-shirt, was literally fluttering around the kitchen.
Today was a great day. No, not because Tokyo survived a monster invasion.
And not even because the main mystery of humanity was snoozing in their guest bedroom. Today was the premiere of the anime adaptation of "Frieren"!
Marin's mood was so cloudless that she even forgave the "blond idiot" for the ruined thermo-jacket.
After all, last night he apologized to her so sincerely, bowing at a right angle, that she simply didn't have the heart to be angry.
That terrifying, arrogant God from the TV turned out to be an ordinary, very embarrassed guy. It was even... cute.
— "Ai-chan, I'm going to wake up our dungeon heroes!" rang out Marin's voice, as she masterfully tossed a burnt piece of toast onto a plate.
— "If they lounge around until lunch, our entire viewing schedule will be ruined!"
She skipped down the corridor, anticipating how she would make the towering Satoru stand still while she took new measurements from him.
She couldn't wait to unravel the secret of the fabric of his new black cloak.
Marin decisively pushed open the heavy oak door of the guest bedroom. — "Rise and shine, defenders of Tokyo! The sun is already hig..."
The words got stuck in her throat, turning into an indistinct squeak.
The room was plunged into half-light, but what Marin saw was enough to make her brain freeze for a second.
Right on the floor, on the spread-out futon, curled up in a fetal position, slept Takemichi.
He was still wearing the fluffy pink robe, making him look like a giant shrimp.
And on the crown of his head, amusingly catching the glints of light, still sat the yellow, half-melted miner's hard hat.
The blond snored quietly, occasionally sobbing in his sleep — apparently, he was dreaming of acid stomachs again.
But he wasn't the cause of Marin's shock. Her gaze darted to the huge double bed.
It seemed empty. Where the two-meter tall guy with extremely broad shoulders should have sprawled his long limbs, there was only a tiny, cozy mound visible under the heavy down blanket.
Marin frowned. Forgetting how to breathe, she approached the edge of the bed on tiptoe, like a creeping cat.
The crown of a head was sticking out from under the snow-white blanket. The hair was white, but... it wasn't those stiff spikes sticking out in all directions that Marin had seen yesterday.
These strands were incredibly soft, silky, and long. They were scattered across the pillow, shimmering in the rays of the morning sun.
And sticking out from under that hair was it. Long. Elegant. Slightly pointed at the tip, an elven ear.
And while Marin stared at it unblinking, the ear twitched slightly in its sleep, reacting to the sound of her footsteps.
— "Ah... Eh..." Marin let out a sound like a broken modem. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the edge of the blanket and slowly pulled it down.
On the silk sheets slept a miniature, fragile girl. She was wearing a loose, clearly System-generated white shirt, which had slipped off one fragile, pale shoulder.
The sleeper's face was absolutely serene, doll-like, devoid of even a hint of that cocky smirk with which Satoru had annoyed all of Japan.
«Is that... a doll? He brought a life-size doll into bed?! And where is he?!» panickily thought Marin.
The elf frowned in displeasure at having the blanket pulled off her. Her ears twitched amusingly again.
The thick eyelashes fluttered, and the eyelids slowly, incredibly lazily opened slightly. Two huge, calm green eyes, devoid of any emotions, looked at Marin.
— "Good morning," the voice was quiet, even, melodic and... saturated with such deep, millennial apathy that it made one drowsy.
— "Is it already noon?"
— "G-Gojo-kun?!" Marin recoiled, tripping over the edge of the carpet, and clutched her heart. Her breath hitched.
— "The System devoured all my savings. I am now a beggar elf," I reported in the same melancholic tone.
With difficulty, as if every movement cost me titanic effort, I sat up on the bed. The shirt slipped down traitorously again.
I raised a tiny little fist and rubbed a sleepy eye, feeling as if I had been run over by a truck, then dumped into the ocean, and then forced to pay off a mortgage.
— "I want to sleep so badly... And I have minus three hundred and forty coins in my account."
Marin clutched her head with both hands. Her eyes were ready to roll out of their sockets.
The professional gaze of a seamstress and cosplayer scanned me from head to toe, noting the lack of seams, the perfect skin texture, and, mother of god, real, living ears!
— "FRIEREN?! YOU... YOU LITERALLY LOOK LIKE FRIEREN?!" her desperate squeal, full of fanatical ecstasy, struck my hypersensitive eardrums.
— "REAL EARS! THEY MOVE!"
This squeal worked better than any siren. Takemichi shuddered on the floor, wheezed, and abruptly sat up, clinging tightly to the collar of his pink robe.
— "WHAT?! WHERE'S THE BOSS?! I'M NOT TASTY! I CONSIST OF BONES AND D'S IN MATH!"
The blond looked around with crazy, sleep-filled eyes until his gaze focused on the bed.
Instead of his terrifying, omnipotent "bro", who yesterday crushed steel vans with a single gesture, there sat a tiny white-haired elf with a stone face.
— "Ah... who are you?" Takemichi pressed himself against the wall, looking at me in horror.
The yellow hard hat on his head slid askew. — "Little girl, how did you get in here? Where is Satoru?!"
I slowly shifted my gaze to the panicking schoolboy. The influence of the new Template was so strong that all his fussing seemed to me a meaningless waste of energy.
Why scream so much in the morning?
— "I'm here, Prophet," I sluggishly dangled my short legs from the high bed. They didn't reach the floor.
— "It's a side effect of the Gacha. Never mind. Oh, you still have that thing on your head."
I raised my hand, pointing a thin, delicate little finger at the crown of Takemichi's head.
My mana channels were securely sealed by the System, but Frieren didn't need internal reserves for everyday magic — she drew it right from space.
— "I happen to know a suitable spell," I said monotonously.
— "«Magic that painlessly separates melted cheap plastic from human hair.» I found it in a grimoire from the third era."
The tip of my finger softly, warmly glowed with golden light. A firefly broke loose from my nail, flew across the room, and absorbed into the yellow plastic.
A quiet, almost comedic «pop» sound rang out.
The yellow hard hat, which yesterday had melted dead tight into Takemichi's hair, simply fell off, leaving his light brown strands absolutely clean and even slightly fluffy.
The piece of plastic rolled across the parquet with a dull thud.
Takemichi froze. He slowly, with trembling hands, felt his head. No glue. No burns. No bald spots.
Huge, shining tears of pure, sincere happiness welled up in his eyes.
— "It fell off..." he whispered, dropping to his knees. — "My hair... Satoru... whoever you are right now, a girl, an elf, or a god... thank you!!"
"You saved my personal life!"
— "You're welcome," I lazily yawned, covering my mouth with my palm. — "Let's go have breakfast."
"I smell burnt bread, and I need to replenish calories to digest my financial ruin."
I jumped down from the bed and, slapping my bare feet on the parquet, wandered toward the kitchen, leaving behind the sobbing-with-happiness Takemichi and Marin, who looked as if she had just received a divine revelation in the form of perfect cosplay.
Five minutes later, we were sitting in the spacious kitchen of the penthouse.
Ai Hoshino was sitting at the bar counter, legs crossed, and unperturbedly sipping her morning coffee.
When a miniature elf in a huge white shirt drifted out of the corridor, trailed closely by a dumbfounded Marin and a radiantly happy Takemichi without his hard hat, the idol didn't even choke.
Only her starry eyes flashed mischievously over the porcelain mug.
— "Good morning... whoever you are," Ai saluted me with her coffee. — "That hair color really suits you."
"And the height. You became much more compact, you take up less space on the couch."
— "Thanks. The System knows how to surprise you when it drives you into debt," I climbed onto the high bar stool with difficulty, dangling my short legs in the air.
Taking a burnt piece of toast from the plate, I tried to bite off a piece, but it turned out to be too hard. I felt incredibly lazy to chew.
I just dipped it into a cup of warm tea. — "I hope this makes it softer."
Takemichi, still in his pink robe, huddled into the farthest corner of the kitchen, hugging his mug with both hands.
Marin, however, literally hovered over me, resting her elbows on the countertop.
She did not take her hypnotizing gaze off my ears, which were twitching slightly, catching the hum of the refrigerator.
Ai placed her mug on the saucer with a clatter. The amusement in her gaze was replaced by seriousness. — "Alright. Time for honesty."
"We let you into the house, we're feeding you toast, and you change your appearance, height, and gender in one night."
"And you constantly mutter something under your breath, as if arguing with an invisible manager. And what is this «System»? How does it work?"
I slowly chewed the soggy bread. The melancholy of the Frieren Template worked like a perfect sedative. I completely couldn't care less about secrecy.
Why waste energy on lying, if the truth sounds simpler?
— "It literally works like in isekai light novels or RPG games," I began monotonously, looking right into Marin's shining eyes.
— "I don't have my own innate elemental magic. But there's an interface sitting in my head — that very System."
"It gives me quests, levels, takes my money... And it issues Character Templates."
Marin gasped, covering her mouth with her palms. — "You mean... Gojo Satoru... was just a Template?! You pulled his stats onto yourself?!"
— "Yep," I nodded lazily, taking a sip of tea. — "I put on their power, appearance, and, unfortunately, their character."
"Yesterday Gojo Satoru's ego took over my mind, because the synchronization was incomplete."
"That's why I acted like a narcissistic, pretentious jerk and spouted nonsense on camera. Powerful Templates demand a huge toll."
"Yesterday this power almost tore my mana channels apart."
— "And so you wouldn't die..." Ai said quietly, putting the puzzle together in her head.
— "So I wouldn't burn alive, the System forcibly launched an emergency «Survival Gacha» during the night," I sighed, remembering my lost finances.
— "It deducted all one hundred-plus thousand coins that I earned with blood and sweat, and gave me this Template."
"Because Frieren's elven physiology perfectly suppresses mana, reducing it to zero, and lets the channels cool down."
"So now I look like this. And right now I absolutely don't care about anything, except for the fact that I have minus three hundred and forty coins in my account."
"I owe the System money for my own rescue."
Marin squealed so loudly that my ears reflexively pinned back to my head. — "A SYSTEM?! LIKE IN LITRPG?!"
"AND GACHA REALLY EXISTS?!" she started jumping in place, nearly knocking over the plate with toast.
— "This is... this is the most brilliant ability in the world! You can literally do a perfect, one-hundred-percent cosplay with real powers!"
"And the System forced you to donate for healing?! What a cruel, but realistic game mechanic!"
Ai Hoshino, however, looked at me with an icy, professional pragmatism.
— "So, this thing extorts money from you for your own life, hooks you on incredible power, and then drives you into debt?"
"Sounds like a typical bondage contract with a bad production agency. I sympathize, Frieren-chan."
— "You don't understand the scale of the problem!" Marin grabbed the remote and pointed it at the huge plasma TV hanging on the living room wall.
— "Do you even understand WHAT you did yesterday?! You used the appearance of a manga character! The world has simply gone crazy!"
The screen flared up. On all news channels, there was absolute, uncontrolled madness going on.
The host of the central channel, waving printouts from the internet, was yelling into the microphone with such anguish, as if announcing the beginning of the apocalypse: — "«...Emergency broadcast!»"
"«The Hunter Association has put all S-rank guilds on alert! Tokyo is partially closed for quarantine!»"
"«But the main question that is currently blowing up world trends: who is this person?!»"
"«Analysts and pop culture experts unanimously declare — the appearance, abilities, and even the character of the mysterious 'God of Roppongi' one hundred percent match the character of the extremely popular manga 'Jujutsu Kaisen' — Gojo Satoru!»"
The picture changed to a montage from social media. The screen was literally drowning in thousands of pop-up comments and tweets.
@OtakuKing_99: I'M TELLING YOU, THIS IS A BREAKTHROUGH IN REALITY! Anime has become real! We've lived to see it!
@HunterGuild_Analyst:The ability to distort space? If it's not an illusion, then we have a Hunter whose power exceeds S-rank.
But why is he cosplaying a manga?
@SlimeBoyFanAccount:Forget about Gojo! Did you see this cutie he saved from the monster's stomach? #SlimeBoyis our new hero! He looks so tired and sad! 😭
Takemichi, seeing his green slime-covered face on national TV with the hashtag #SlimeBoy, went as pale as a sheet and slowly slid down the wall to the floor.
— "My life is over... My mom saw me... I'll be expelled from school... Fan accounts... What for..."
— "And that's not all!" Marin quickly switched to the Twitter tab. — "Look at what the manga author wrote!"
An official statement from user @CyclopsCat_Mangaka (an account with an avatar of a drawn one-eyed cat) appeared on the screen:
«I officially declare: I have no relation whatsoever to the incident at the Ueno Gates.
My editor has been crying since morning and is begging me not to draw anything destructive in the next chapter.
Guys, does magic really work according to my drafts now? Do I need to ask for a percentage from the Hunter Association?»
(The post gained 4 million likes in 2 hours)
Marin turned to me, her eyes burning with panic and delight at the same time. — "Satoru... I mean Frieren! The government is looking for you!"
"Aki Hayakawa gave three interviews where he promised to find you from underground and force you to register!"
"The whole internet is trying to figure out if you're the real Gojo or a crazy cosplaying Hunter! What are we going to do?!"
I slowly, very slowly bit off a piece of the softened toast. My green eyes half-closed, and my long ears drooped melancholically.
The scale of human panic seemed so tiny and insignificant to me.
— "We are going to do nothing," I answered calmly, dangling my legs. — "Humans fuss so much over trifles."
"It's just a couple of cleared dungeons and a bit of ruined asphalt."
— "A bit of asphalt?! You erased half the square!"
— "Give them fifty years, and they will forget about this incident," I shrugged indifferently.
— "Human lives are so short, why waste nerves on the news? By the way, what time is the premiere of my anime tonight?"
"I want to see if they drew me well."
Marin choked on air, clearly not understanding how to react to this rock-solid apathy. — "F-fifty years?! They'll find us by evening!"
"By the cameras! By mana!"
— "They won't find us. For their mana scanners I don't exist, and visually I am now a completely different person. I am in complete safety."
My philosophical tirade about safety was interrupted by the sharp, piercing trill of a mobile phone.
The sound was not coming from my device, but from Takemichi's phone lying on the bar counter.
The smartphone screen lit up, highlighting a photo of a cute girl with short blonde hair.
The inscription on the screen read: «Hina (Angry) 👿». Call type: Video call.
The blond in the pink robe on the floor let out the sound of a dying seal, clutching his head.
— "She'll kill me... She called me twenty times during the night... She saw me in slime on TV..."
— "Well, then answer it," I melancholically advised. — "Ignoring problems is the prerogative of elves. And you still have to graduate from school."
Takemichi reached for the phone with a trembling hand.