The ‘penguin’ icon on my window began to furiously flash, beeping incessantly, “Drip, drip, drip… drip, drip, drip…”
I lifted my head from the keyboard, ignoring the distinct keyboard imprints etched across my face. Clearly, I had been working on videos until late into the night again, only to collapse and fall asleep right on the keys.
A wry smile touched my lips as I gazed at the gibberish on the screen: “VRVgbbiffvgvfcvfvtifufvfvf.” It was a clear testament to my rather ungraceful sleeping posture from the previous night.
I shook my head, attempting to clear the lingering fog of sleep. ‘Who could possibly be messaging me so early in the morning?’ I wondered.
I clicked open the chat window.
“Cute Little Fanboy: Big Dream Lord, quickly, look at the view count! It seems I’ve won! That video you posted the day before yesterday… once you confirm it, you’ll have to uphold your promise, right? Hehehe…”
My face was a mask of disbelief as I opened the video I’d posted two days prior, titled “Big Dream Lord’s Tech Class Episode 14: The Scheming Boy on the Battlefield.” My eyes widened at the sight of the view count: 100,010,415! It had actually surpassed one hundred million. It was simply unbelievable.
This entire situation stemmed from a small wager we had made. The terms of our bet were simple: if my video reached over a hundred million views, I would grant him a small request; conversely, if it didn’t, he would grant me one.
Shamelessly, I must admit that despite being a rather famous all-around streamer and content creator—specializing in gaming, commentary, and ‘guichu’ [TL note: a form of online parody/remix culture]—my most popular video until now had only garnered a few tens of millions of views. I had been ecstatic about that for quite some time. But now…
Still somewhat astonished, I quickly switched back to the chat window and typed.
“Big Dream Lord: How did you manage that?”
“Cute Little Fanboy: Actually, it was super simple! All I did was take advantage of your never showing your face, and then I went big with a single move. Just check the description beneath your video, and you’ll understand.”
On the other side of the computer, the Little Fanboy chuckled to himself. ‘How could I possibly tell you about using technology for such a thing?’ he thought.
“Big Dream Lord: ? My face is full of question marks.”
Swiftly, I exited the chat window and opened the video interface. The moment I saw the description, my face darkened to the color of a pot’s bottom, as if a layer of soot could be scraped right off.
“Big Dream Lord: Could you explain this to me? This line: ‘Cross 100 million views for a cross-dressing livestream. For every additional million likes, a random viewer gets to choose a cosplay outfit.'”
“Cute Little Fanboy: Of course, it’s exactly what it says! Didn’t you say that if I had the ability to get your video over a hundred million views, you’d grant me a small request? Don’t go back on your word! This request is very simple; just follow the instructions in the description. Mwah!”
“Big Dream Lord: I never thought I’d fall into your trap. I’ve clearly chosen my friends poorly.”
Not only did I have to show my face during the livestream, but how was I supposed to continue my career after cross-dressing? My established ‘uncle’ persona would definitely be ruined. I couldn’t help but sigh.
“Cute Little Fanboy: I’m really looking forward to your livestream tonight! You’ll probably be playing games, right? Otherwise, imagining a rough guy in a full cross-dressing outfit happily chatting with a group of viewers about everything under the sun—life, the universe, and beyond—that scene would be just too…”
To be honest, I didn’t have a strong aversion to cross-dressing for a livestream. After all, they wouldn’t recognize me.
However, the idea of wearing women’s clothes in front of so many people still felt somewhat shameful. Yet, considering my own appearance… although I hated to admit it, ‘petite’ truly seemed to be the only fitting description.
Combined with my delicate features, it probably wouldn’t be too much of an eyesore, I mused, a hint of uncertainty lingering in my thoughts.
Just then, the doorbell rang.
I didn’t move.
‘No, I absolutely couldn’t open the door,’ I thought. ‘Why? Because I’m an orphan, so my parents couldn’t possibly be visiting. The rent was paid long ago, and no one even knows I live here. For safety’s sake, it’s better not to open it.’
Besides, this room didn’t even *have* a doorbell. No, really—it wasn’t broken; there simply wasn’t one. It must be a prank.
None of that truly mattered, however. What *did* matter was the terrifying thought: had my identity been exposed? ‘No, absolutely not,’ I decided. ‘I can’t open the door.’
What if my fans, who envisioned the majestic and towering Dream God, discovered I was only 159cm tall? Alright, ‘majestic and towering’ was my own embellishment, but the mental image of fans looking at me as a ‘fraudulent pink-colored person’ sent shivers down my spine. I quickly pretended no one was home.
After a short while, the outside grew quiet. I assumed she had left, so I planned to peek out and assess the situation, ready to make my escape.
But just then, the door swung open.
I nearly tumbled out of my computer chair in fright. “Y-y-you… how did you get in?” I stammered, my voice laced with urgency. This was terrifying! I was certain I hadn’t opened the door. How on earth had she entered?
Standing before me was a woman with long blue hair, appearing to be in her early twenties. Her expression was indifferent, and her figure… well, it was enough to make me incredibly envious.
‘I’m a guy, why am I jealous of a girl’s figure?’ I thought. While her physique was undeniably stunning, it was her height that truly sparked my envy. Gazing at her 175-180cm stature, I silently grumbled, ‘What’s a girl doing growing so tall? She’ll never get married.’
The woman, seemingly oblivious to my resentful gaze, raised her hand and dangled a spare key—the landlord’s spare key.
“How could this happen? Why would the landlord just hand a spare key to a complete stranger?” I blurted out, genuinely furious. If this was the case, what security did tenants even have?
The woman’s face remained impassive. “Because I am a divine agent.”
My expression was utterly blank. ‘A true divine agent needs a key?’ I mused. ‘Sigh, why has no one offered a helping hand to this chuunibyou girl? She’s twenty and still suffering from chuunibyou. What will become of her?’
“So, are you going to say something like, ‘Young man, I am guided by the gods to bestow power upon you,’ and then some other nonsense?” I retorted, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
The woman completely ignored my sarcasm. “While close, you are mistaken. Why would those fellows bother giving you power? To get straight to the point, are you Mr. Moe God?”
‘Just as I thought, a fan whose brain has been fried,’ I concluded, adopting an ‘ah, of course’ expression. Moe God was my most widely circulated nickname online.
Since ‘dream’ (梦) and ‘moe’ (萌) sound similar, people gradually started calling me Moe God instead of Dream God.
I decided to humor her, as a chuunibyou girl would likely be easily appeased if I played along for a bit. Yet, she looked like such a perfect ‘onee-san’ [TL note: a mature, older woman archetype]. How could she be chuunibyou? It was such a waste of good resources, I lamented. With these thoughts, I responded, “Indeed, that would be me.”
She produced a rather thick notebook and pulled out a gel pen. Seeing this, my mouth twitched. ‘If you’re going to put on an act, at least make it convincing,’ I thought. ‘What’s with this gel pen?’
I didn’t expose her. All I wanted was to get through this charade.
She then declared, “Given that your power of faith has accumulated to AA-grade, and despite the original regulation that no new gods should appear in this world for another 5,000 years, it would truly be a great loss to the God Realm not to utilize AA-grade faith power.”
At this point, she spat lightly, muttering under her breath, “It’s all that idiot Aklys’s fault.” I evidently didn’t catch her whisper.
She then straightened her expression. “Based on the title ‘Moe God’ given to you by your followers, you are officially becoming Moe God. Do you have any objections?”
“Eh, eh,” I waved my hand dismissively. “Whatever you say is fine, alright?”
She nodded in satisfaction. “Then, first, what is your divine symbol?”
Treating this entirely as a game of make-believe with a child, I straightened up from my computer chair and looked at her. I had to admit, she was truly beautiful: willow-like brows, a slender waist, D-cup breasts, and long, elegant legs.
Yes, those were very important. All of these features thrilled the ‘onee-san’ [TL note: a mature, older woman archetype] enthusiast in me. However, this chuunibyou girl persona… what a pity. As I thought this, I replied with a broad smile, “A staff, I suppose.”
She nodded. “Mm, a staff,” she murmured, writing it down in her notebook.
To my utter surprise, however, a faint golden mist suddenly materialized before us. From within it, an ancient, pale golden staff slowly began to emerge.
I stood dumbfounded for a moment, swallowing hard. “Are you… serious?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Ignoring me, she promptly asked, “Divine type?”
I paused, bewildered. Although I didn’t fully grasp the situation, it seemed I truly had become the ‘Moe God’ she spoke of. Setting aside the potential ban, this was *godhood*!
Even being a god of misfortune would be better than being an ordinary person, I reasoned. ‘Who cares what kind of god?’ I thought. Then, I asked quite seriously, “What varieties are there? Bah, what *types* of gods are there?”
“Let me see,” she said, flipping through her notebook. ‘Big sister, are you really okay being this unreliable?’ I wondered.
She seemed to sense my doubt, however, and stated with confidence, “Don’t let my appearance deceive you; I’m one of the most famous divine guides in the entire God Realm! You’re lucky to have met me.”
“Without further ado, gods are divided into: War Gods, who specialize in combat skill trees; Guardian Gods, who possess extremely high divine power, granting them formidable protective abilities.”
I interjected, “So, like a tank?”
“Yes, exactly—no, wait, what do you mean ‘tank’? They’re called Guardian Gods! And don’t interrupt me! Interrupt me again, and I swear I’ll beat you up before you even become a god!” she exclaimed, a hint of anger coloring her tone despite her unchanging expression.
“Mm-hmm,” I mumbled, sitting up straight obediently. She gave a satisfied hum and a nod, then continued, “Then there are Mage Gods, who also possess extremely potent divine power.
However, unlike Guardian Gods, who focus on cohesion, Mage Gods excel in explosive power. Finally, there are Illusion Gods, who, simply put, are support types. There, introduction complete.”
“?!” I felt utterly confused. “Why was your introduction for Illusion Gods so brief?”
She pursed her lips. “You wouldn’t choose an Illusion God anyway, so what’s the point of elaborating?”
“You have a point,” I conceded, nodding. After a moment of thought, I declared, “Alright, since my divine symbol is a staff, I’ll go with Mage God.”
“Alright, Illusion God,” she mumbled, writing it down in her notebook.
“?! Hey, hey! I said Mage God!” I quickly corrected her.
“That’s right, Illusion God. What’s wrong?” she asked, tilting her head with a puzzled expression.
“Mage God! F-A S-H-E-N!” I spelled out loudly.
“Oh dear, I misheard,” she said, feigning an apologetic tone. However, the faint smile playing on her lips told me unequivocally that she hadn’t misheard; she had done it on purpose.
‘Illusion God it is, then,’ I resigned myself. ‘As long as I become a god, that’s what matters.’ Besides, I sensed a dangerous aura emanating from her smile, and pressing the issue further might lead to unpredictable consequences.
“Next,” she said, tapping her forehead with her pen, “Gender?”
“Male,” I answered without hesitation.
“Alright, female,” she scribbled rapidly.
“Can’t you even tell if I’m male or female?” I yelled, exasperated.
“This is for registering your divine status, not checking your household registration,” she scoffed, not even lifting her head. “What does it matter if you’re male or female?”
“Oh—” I processed this for a moment. “Wait a minute, even if I’m registering for divine status, I’d still be a male god!” For some reason, referring to myself as a ‘male god’ felt strangely appealing.
“You’re Moe God! What kind of decorum would it be for a male to be Moe God? Besides, it’s already written down; it can’t be changed, ‘eheh’!” she chirped, concluding with a wave of mischievous cuteness. “Now, height.”
I suddenly felt a surge of excitement. Since sixth grade, when I reached 159cm, I hadn’t grown an inch. Was I finally going to experience what it felt like to be tall?
“Um, 190cm… no, that’s definitely too tall. 180…”
Before I could finish, she interjected, “158cm.” She then scribbled it down swiftly.
“How can you do that? I wasn’t even finished!” I exclaimed, growing agitated. I could tolerate being registered as a girl, but when I had the chance to grow taller and achieve a lifelong dream, she not only denied me that growth but also made me an entire centimeter shorter!
“I’m not being a god then!” I huffed. “I can endure anything, but not my height!”
“Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in her expression. “Not bad, you’ve got guts. You’d rather die than shrink by a single centimeter.”
“Hmph, of course!” I paused, startled. “Die?!”
“That’s right. After all, you now know that gods exist, which is quite troublesome. This world isn’t allowed to have anyone truly aware of the true gods’ existence. What a pity,” she said, raising her hand.
“Hey, hey, wait a minute! I was just kidding, I was joking, hahaha…” I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead, speaking awkwardly.
“I suggest you don’t make such jokes next time. You were very close to disappearing,” she said with a cold laugh. That smile, however, told me she wasn’t kidding. Were all gods like her? If so, the God Realm was surely doomed.
“Well then, sweet dreams. Seven days from now, at the South City Train Station, 9 AM.” With that, she tapped my forehead. Immediately, my mind grew hazy, and I slumped onto the computer, falling into a deep sleep.
****
As I slept, the agent felt a slight headache coming on. ‘He’s already reacted like this to 158cm,’ she mused. ‘How will he feel when he discovers he’s actually only 148cm?’
‘Never mind,’ she decided. ‘No point dwelling on it; I have other important matters to attend to.’ With that thought, the agent quietly slipped out, closing the door behind her.