Chapter 3: The Grandmaster’s Reveal

I have no money. This fact is more serious than anything else in modern society.

I can’t eat.

I can’t use my phone.

I have to sit outside.

For the past week, I’ve survived on the rice stocked at home.

Canned tuna, cereal, instant noodles.

Now, there’s hardly anything left, but with this smaller body, it’s possible to endure for a while longer.

The realization that I have no money came back to me.

I glanced at the front door again.

Beyond the front door, the neighbor’s.

No, let’s stop this escapism.

What can I do? What is there I can do?

I sat for a moment, deep in thought. My period had just ended today, and I no longer felt any discomfort or pain.

What can I do? What can I do?

There’s no way I can do anything.

My darker side whispered to me.

I remembered the time in middle school when I worked part-time to buy a game console I wanted.

I got hired quickly because I was quite good-looking, but I was clumsy with people and got scolded and fired soon after.

That was when my aversion to people peaked, but I wondered how much worse it had gotten since then.

I often go out drinking, and it seemed strange that I couldn’t work part-time, but I could firmly assert that the two were fundamentally different.

In a drinking setting, I could get drunk and play with strangers in a trance, but in a part-time job, I had to deal with people sober, which was nearly impossible for me.

That being said, I couldn’t just have a drink and work either.

Alcohol truly makes you capable of many things.

Making connections with strangers.

Sex.

Murder.

Rape.

As I fidgeted with my hands, I felt a sting on my wrist beneath the skin.

Looking there, I saw several thin scabs like barcodes etched into my skin.

…

I had thought I’d control myself since my body changed, but it wasn’t easy at all.

I could resist cigarettes due to my altered body; I hardly felt withdrawal symptoms, but self-harm was a struggle due to psychological withdrawal.

I wondered if the reason was money.

The pressure of having no money brought a more vague sense of fear than I expected.

I looked around.

The room had become filthy with various trash over the past week, my body had become a practice target for cutting, and dozens of windows on my computer were filled with chaotic mess.

Yet, strangely, this messy room, this state of my body, gave me a sense of stability.

A room filled with trash felt more secure than a pristine white room.

A soiled canvas was more comforting than a pure white one.

Repugnant immorality felt more stable than beautiful morality.

Anyway, I didn’t want to work.

Is there no way to earn money easily?

…

As soon as I thought that, I remembered my changed body.

Can’t I earn money just by posting pictures of my body?

I immediately began my experiment.

I unbuttoned my pajamas up to my chest.

Then, the contents inside seemed to pop out slightly, spreading to the sides.

I took the picture in that state.

Click—

For some reason, I felt guilty as I checked the photo album.

It’s so risqué…!

It felt like I was committing a sin, and I took the picture without showing my face.

That seemed to make it even more provocative.

The pale skin and the gray hair spreading to the sides were more striking than any pornographic photo.

…

As I stared blankly at the photo (I guess I don’t completely lack sexual desire), my finger slipped while trying to zoom in, and the screen switched to older photos.

Hmm.

There was a picture of my past self sitting there with a peace sign, looking like a delinquent.

Seeing it like this, I really looked like a punk.

It was as if I was proclaiming my delinquency with my whole body.

In truth, part of me wanted to appear that way on purpose.

After all, the human brain seems to be specialized in adaptation; it had only been a week since I changed, yet I was unsure who the blond young man on the screen was.

“I’m not really impressed.”

I worried for a moment that I might cry out of nostalgia, but that didn’t happen.

Anyway.

I returned to the photo I had just taken and stared at it.

No, I should stop.

I moved the photo to the trash bin.

For some reason, it felt like a waste.

I wondered if this was the thought process of someone who had just attempted to end her life as a woman.

After all, when a person reaches a state of extremity, they tend to make choices without hesitation.

This is truly, really.

When money runs out and the will to live fades away, that’s when I should do it.

Let’s think of it as a last resort.

Maybe I spent too long thinking; my head started to throb.

I sat down at my computer, turned it on, and rang the bell.

I need to cool my head a bit.

At that moment, an idea flashed through my mind.

Oh, should I try bell broadcasting?

Why didn’t I think of this after considering risqué photos?

If I look good and play well, wouldn’t many people watch?

I went online to look up how to do it.

I know. As someone who loves the game “Bell” and often watches bell broadcasts, I know that there are hundreds of people with only one viewer.

There is only one way to rise above that hellish surface.

Aggro (refers to a provocative or attention-grabbing behavior).

And I have an outstanding talent for this. My ten years of experience on DC Inside prove it.

Moreover, now that I’m a male, I inherently possess numerous “aggro” traits that attract attention.

I believe a few differentiating factors are important for broadcasting.

Having exceptional skill.

Having a nice voice.

Being a woman.

Being pretty.

That’s all me, right?

My voice is good enough for me to talk to myself and appreciate it.

My skills in League of Legends are solid, and objectively, I was a very pretty girl.

There’s no reason I shouldn’t succeed.

Preparing for the broadcast wasn’t as difficult as I thought.

I just had to install a broadcasting program, log in, and select the window I wanted to stream.

Once I was ready, the biggest issue came to mind.

How should I attract aggro?

Should I post my selfie on my profile?

That felt a bit embarrassing.

In the end, I decided to draw aggro with the broadcast title.

I’d reveal that I’m a girl while choosing a title that would draw even more attention.

I decided.

I typed what I had thought into the broadcast title field.

“High School Graduate, Jobless, Virgin, Beautiful Girl”

I did it.

Pretending to be nonchalant, I brought the microphone of my headset to my mouth and spun the bell.

Well, I didn’t write a lie.

I should probably write about my major, but that’s not possible now since I’m a girl.

Not long after I spun the bell, three people joined.

“Is she really a high school graduate, jobless, virgin, beautiful girl?”

I took a deep breath, feeling an unnecessary tension, and opened my mouth.

“Yes.”

My clear, melodious voice resonated through the internet via the microphone.

Not a bad reaction. For some reason, I felt a sense of accomplishment.

“Wow, you’re high tier, huh?”

It seemed like they searched for the nickname that popped up on my bell screen.

“I play quite a bit.”

“Show us a selfie.”

“What if it’s a guy using a female voice or TTS (text-to-speech)?”

“Ha.”

A laugh escaped me as I spoke.

Isn’t my voice obviously female?

Whether it’s a synthetic voice or a man mimicking a woman’s voice, humanity has yet to reach that level of advancement.

Thus, your comment has been seen through.

You may be claiming your innocence on the surface, but your true intention is just a guy’s ploy to see my selfie.

However, your “oh” moved my heart.

“Just a moment, please.”

I stood up and put on the mask that was hanging on the wall.

Then, I went to a clean spot to place it down.

Ah, I should wear a hoodie over my pajamas.

I almost sent a provocative photo by mistake.

I posed with a V sign to cover my face.

Click.

Next, I made sure a little bit of the room’s mess was visible.

…

I set that in the corner of the streaming screen.

“Oh…”

“Wow…”

Seeing their blatant excitement made me feel tingly.

Not bad, huh?

Is this why women say that men are easy?

ᄏᄏ“Is this really you?”

“But why does it look so provocative?

“Ah.”

The way I covered my eyes with a peace sign definitely looked very suggestive, even without exposure.

I forgot.

Back when I was a guy, I had a habit of taking crude photos with a twisted mindset.

Now that I’m a woman, it seems I’ve just developed a habit of taking provocative pictures.

“Uh, it was just a joke.”

I made some half-hearted excuse.

But why is my back so hunched?

“Ah?”

My back was definitely hunched, even through the hoodie.

I just realized it. When did my back start hunching like that?

I thought about it and immediately figured out the reason.

Is it because I’m not wearing a bra?

A woman’s breasts are heavier than one might think.

They’re heavier than expected, making it hard to support with just my back muscles.

The reason women wear bras isn’t just for vanity; there are health reasons as well.

“I’m not wearing a bra.”

I simply said it honestly.

For a while, the chatroom was silent.

Click, click—

“Ah, damn…”

I almost let out a curse while trying to speak.

I instinctively stopped myself from engaging in ‘unfeminine’ behavior.

With a mix of anger, I reminded myself that I am a ‘female broadcaster.’ I shouldn’t be typing such vulgar things, so I continued with some simple entertainment.

The chatroom kept flickering on and off.

Looking at the comments with a hint of worry, I noticed that the responses weren’t that intense.

ᄏᄏSo you curse often, huh? I get it, Bell’s a disease game, after all.

Is it okay if they understand this much?

Still, I should hold back.

Right now, I’m just a modest high school dropout, jobless, and a virgin, cute girl.

Defeat.

“Hah…”

ᄏᄏ Legendary team luck.

There were currently eight viewers.

“I’m going to wrap it up here.”

ᄏᄏAre you coming again next time?

“I’ll think about it.”

Of course, I’ll come again, but for some reason, I wanted to sound like I was considering it.

“Goodbye.”

I said this as I turned off the broadcast, stretching my stiff back.

The broadcast wasn’t as hard as I thought.

Maybe it’s because I’m a woman, but the others naturally took the lead in the conversation.

All I had to do was respond and throw in a bit of small talk.

This might not be bad.

Ah.

… Now that I think about it, I exposed my nickname.

I’m quite well-known in the Grandmaster rank.

Well, it should be fine. There weren’t even ten viewers. This broadcast was just a test, anyway.

Since I’ve never appeared anywhere, only those in the Bell community would know my name.

It probably doesn’t matter.

However, contrary to my expectations, my innate ability to attract attention seemed undiminished.

Views: 13,249, Likes: 131, Dislikes: 142, Comments: 394

Breaking news: The Grandmaster’s legendary trash can: turns out she’s a girl.

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