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It all began on a fateful day.
My name is Bernard Clovis Boudin.
…And if that wasn't already obvious enough — I'm French.
Baguette!!!!
Well, more precisely, I'm half-French and half-Japanese, even though that's not exactly the first thing you'd guess from a name like mine.
I am an absolutely normal person.
By day, I work as an ordinary office worker at an indie game production house. Luckily, some of my colleagues are old buddies from campus, so I quite enjoy my position there.
And at night — or whenever I can scrape together a little free time outside of work — I run a specialized Pokémon YouTube channel.
Right now, I'm stuck in the most complicated, grueling Nuzlocke I've ever attempted.
For those who don't know what a Nuzlocke Challenge is, it's a set of self-imposed rules you add to a Pokémon game to make it significantly harder — and a whole lot more emotional.
The core rules are:
1. If a Pokémon faints, it's considered dead → You release it or permanently box it.
1. You can only catch the FIRST Pokémon you encounter in each area → If it faints or you fail to catch it, you get nothing for that route.
1. You must nickname every Pokémon → This makes you far more attached to them.
There are optional rules to make it even more "fun," but that's not the point right now.
So why put myself through all this?
Content. And YouTube money, Bardi.
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Of course, my main job is working as a programmer, tester, and debugger for the games we make at our company. But with the cost of living in France being what it is, every extra source of income helps.
That's just how it is.
Even though I don't make a lot of money from YouTube, it's enough to keep me from living in poverty.
Just so-so, I guess.
Enough to get by — as long as I don't think too hard about retirement and all that.
I also have some savings set aside for the future. For when I eventually get married and start my own family someday.
What? You think a programmer otaku like me can't have a girlfriend?
Look at Asterion — doesn't he have a wife?
Sure, Asterion isn't exactly an otaku, I'll give you that.
Okay then, take a look at manga and light novel authors — people who are objectively far more otaku than I'll ever be. Plenty of them have wives too, don't they?
So why couldn't I have a girlfriend?
…Anyway, we've gotten a bit off track.
The point is, I've had my eye on a junior who's still studying on campus. She also happens to be my landlord's daughter, so we run into each other pretty often — and somewhere along the way, I grew quite fond of her.
She even shows up in some of my livestreams. Unannounced. Every single time. She'll waltz in, cause some kind of scene that's either completely unhinged or inexplicably bold, and then leave like nothing happened.
I still have no idea how she got a copy of my apartment keys.
What I do know is that my channel only really started taking off after one of her first appearances on stream.
Which also means that a significant portion of my audience tunes in specifically for her — and frankly, some of them probably want to see her more than me.
And even though I call her my "junior," we're more than five years apart in age. People joke that I look like her older brother.
I will have my revenge on them someday.
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Anyway, I was quite happy with my life at the production house — it felt more like a productive hobby than actual work, especially with our friendly environment, nothing like those corporate sweatshops where employees are overworked, forced into overtime, and chronically underpaid.
I genuinely don't understand why people put up with that without revolting.
My revolutionary French blood screams at the mere thought of it.
But I love my current life, so I have no plans of becoming some kind of modern Napoleon anytime soon.
Or so I thought — because apparently, destiny had other plans for me.
It all changed on one particular night, right after I took a break from the Nuzlocke to get ready for a gathering with some friends and my junior. We had just closed up the production house for the weekend, ready to enjoy Saturday evening all the way through Sunday night.
We were about to cross the road when my junior, who had been chatting with her friends on the other side, spotted me and waved. I waved back.
She started making her way toward me, crossing the zebra crossing with that light, carefree stride of hers — the light was still red, so it should have been fine.
And then, out of nowhere —
A Wild Truck-kun Appeared.
I am not even slightly kidding.
A massive container truck came barreling down the road at full speed, showing absolutely no sign of slowing down — not even with the light clearly still red.
Panic erupted immediately. Everyone still on the crossing scrambled for the sidewalk, turning the zebra crossing into pure chaos.
I grabbed her hand so we wouldn't get separated in the crowd.
And then some unknown bastard shoved us both out of the way just to get himself clear faster.
We hit the ground hard. I think she sprained her ankle in the fall.
I looked up. The truck was still coming.
I did what any man who loves his girl would do.
Mustering every last bit of strength I had, I threw her clear of the truck's path.
And stayed behind.
The last thing I heard before the darkness took me was the sound of someone screaming my name.
One of my biggest regrets is leaving the Nuzlocke unfinished.
The other is not tracking down the son of a b*tch who shoved us.
What? I'm allowed to be angry. I had so many projects in the works, and I'm not the type to just let things slide.
If I'd had one more chance, I would have taken her somewhere quiet. Somewhere far less crowded. Just the two of us, chilling.
Too bad life doesn't give you second chances.
I guess this is Game Over for me.
…
…
…
*(By the way.)*
*(How long am I going to be stuck in this dark place?)*
*(I just finished my whole monologue — isn't this usually when the cosmic being shows up?)*
*(I'm dead now. Shouldn't I be heading to Heaven? Or at least getting reincarnated?)*
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*Blink*
Ignoring the fact that I forgot to mention Hell as an option earlier — this place suddenly got bright.
Like someone flipped a light switch in a pitch-black room.
Speaking of rooms, I now appear to be standing in one. An entirely white one. An endless, featureless void of pure white, and I'm floating somewhere in the middle of it.
*(Great. Not that different from the darkness, honestly. At least now I can see — even if there's nothing to look at.)*
Just as I was resigning myself to spending an unknown amount of time completely alone in this place, a figure materialized in front of me. The apparition grew more solid by the second, and within ten seconds, I found myself face to face with a very familiar man in a white lab coat.
The spitting image of the elegant Professor from Pokémon XY.
"Hello. Welcome to the Crossroads of Afterlife," said the figure.
"Oh — so hi, Professor Sycamore," I greeted him, with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm for someone who had just died.
"Well, I'm glad you seem to be taking this well — but I'm not Professor Sycamore," said the figure, with a small, patient smile.
Somehow, I got the distinct impression he'd had to say that many, many times before.
"Then who are you?" I asked.
"A good question — but not one I can answer right now. What matters at this moment is something far more important." He clasped his hands together. "So tell me — are you a boy, or are you a girl? Or perhaps… something else entirely?"
The moment he finished speaking, a translucent panel materialized in front of me, displaying eight choices.
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**1. A Half Boy**
You wake up with a blend of traits from both genders — perhaps unusual strength, sharper reflexes, or simply a striking appearance that makes people look twice. Life feels unique, though you'll field a fair number of curious glances and awkward questions. Socially interesting, but not superpowered.
**2. A Girl**
A standard human life — school, work, friends, the whole package. You fit in easily, life is stable and predictable, and you have the freedom to explore social and creative paths at your own pace. Safe. Reliable. A little ordinary.
**3. I am a Trap**
People constantly misjudge your identity, and reactions range from stunned silence to outright admiration. Social situations become a game of perception — playful, mischievous, occasionally chaotic. Your actual abilities remain human, but life itself becomes something of a performance.
**4. Best of Both Worlds**
Biologically versatile in ways that are difficult to fully explain. People tend to find you fascinating. You can adapt to almost any situation — socially, romantically, or otherwise. Life is exciting and unusual, though it comes with its own set of complications.
**5. Hi Franky**
Your body is powerful, fast, and upgradeable. No fatigue, no illness, no physical weakness. Social interactions may feel slightly off, since people will always know you're not entirely human — but for raw capability and problem-solving? Unmatched.
**6. Attack Helicopter**
You can fly, transform, and plow through obstacles like they're made of paper. Every single day is an adventure. You are powerful, dramatic, and borderline unstoppable. Normal life, however, is a complete disaster. You will bump into things. People will stare. You will require an enormous amount of fuel.
**7. I Wanna Be in Your Balls**
You carry Pokémon abilities — elemental powers, special attacks, the works. Life is a constant adventure, though it comes with the caveat of being somewhat dependent on a trainer to guide you. Exciting, but not entirely your own.
**8. Let's Go Gambling**
Every day is a coin flip. You thrive on unpredictability, and fortune could take you anywhere — fame, wealth, or complete disaster. Life is never boring. It is also never stable.
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"Hm… These are all my options?"
He nodded.
"Alright then."
*(Numbers 6 and 8 are immediately out. I was just killed by a truck — there is absolutely no universe in which I choose to become one.)*
*(Number 5 is interesting, but I don't think I want to spend the rest of my existence as a robot.)*
*(Numbers 1 and 2 feel too plain. Too ordinary. I didn't die dramatically just to come back boring.)*
That left numbers 3, 4, and 7.
*(Becoming a Pokémon is tempting, but the odds of ending up as a Caterpie rather than a Riolu are not in my favor.)*
*(And as for option 4… would I have to deal with a monthly cycle? Because I have seen women go through that. I have heard them talk about it. And that is not an experience I am volunteering for.)*
*(Not to mention the possibility of pregnancy. Nine months. Labor. No. Absolutely not. My deepest respect to every woman who has ever given birth — but I will not be joining that particular club.)*
My choice was made.
Without hesitation, I pressed my palm against the third option.
**I am a Trap.**
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The moment I made my selection, a mirror materialized in front of me, reflecting my new appearance back at me.
Long purple hair cascading down to the back of my knees. A classically Japanese face with eyes as violet as the hair framing it. Two locks on either side of my face tied with white ribbons and red strings, while the rest was gathered at the small of my back with a matching ribbon and string.
*(Hm. A bit too traditionally Japanese for my taste.)*
Can I change it?
No sooner had the thought crossed my mind than the mirror's surface blurred — and shifted.
I reached up and touched my face, feeling the change beneath my fingertips in real time.
So I really can customize my appearance here.
"This is the Character Creation Space," said the one who was definitely not Professor Sycamore, answering my unspoken question with the calm ease of someone who had done this many times before. "It's the only place where you can still adjust your appearance freely, before you're sent to your new world."
Good to know.
I got to work.
The inspiration came quickly — Ilima's style. You know, the guy who got eliminated by Guzma at the Alola Championship. He didn't make it far in the competition, but his aesthetic? Immaculate. Exactly my kind of energy.
I settled on a light, warm brown complexion. Short, straight, light blond hair in a neat bob cut, parted slightly off-center, with smooth ends that curved gently inward. Large, expressive eyes with rose-pink irises, sharp and slightly angular — stylized, almost animated, but in a way that felt natural rather than jarring.
The overall impression was something like a sporty, approachable older sister type. Fresh. Adventurous. The kind of person who'd help you move furniture and then drag you on a hiking trip the same afternoon.
*(Yes. This works perfectly.)*
I gave my reflection one last look and nodded, satisfied.
"You've settled on your gender and appearance, then?" the not-Professor asked.
"Yes."
"Very well. Let's move on." He folded his hands neatly in front of him. "Now — what is your name?"
A new interface appeared: a transparent keyboard and a name display panel, both floating at exactly eye level.
I stared at it for a long moment.
My old name was Bernard Clovis Boudin.
There was no saving that, feminine version or otherwise.
Something more neutral, then. Something that could travel across worlds without raising too many eyebrows.
In the end, I settled on two words and typed them in.
**Noah Alexandrie.**
"…You took considerably longer on the name than you did on your gender and your entire physical appearance," the not-Professor observed.
"Naming things is hard," I said. "Ask any Pokémon player."
He looked at me for a moment, then appeared to decide that was a reasonable answer.
"Very well, Noah." He straightened slightly, the air around us shifting in a way that felt deliberate — like a page turning. "Before I send you to the world that is waiting for you, allow me to tell you a little about where you're going."
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*End of Chapter 1*