The person in the mirror, although wearing a terribly ill-fitting white shirt and boxers, could not hide her breathtaking beauty and enchanting figure. Her long golden hair cascaded in soft waves, reminiscent of endless golden wheat fields.

But wait... this woman looks oddly familiar…

“Hold on. Could this… be me?”

Moen suddenly came to a realization and froze in shock.

What’s going on?

What should I do?

How do I fix this?

How did I suddenly turn into a woman?

After experiencing a brief mental crisis, Moen instinctively reached out and squeezed the pair of breasts that appeared large, perfectly shaped, and capable of sparking countless fantasies for men.

Hmm… they feel pretty good.

And yet, there was no real sensation from the breasts themselves. It felt as though there were… two water balloons hanging from his chest?

“So, they’re fake after all?”

Moen couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief.

Turning into a woman in this "Phoenix Pride" world would be utterly horrifying. It would inevitably lead to being forcibly feminized and added to the protagonist’s harem.

The mere thought of dressing up in cute clothes and competing for attention in Ariel’s harem made him shudder. Visions of bizarrely chaotic and unspeakable situations flooded his mind—serious harem fans and les fans alike would be left in speechless agony.

“So this is what the potion does? It transforms you into the appearance of a woman?”

Moen crouched down, resting his chin on his hand as he thought aloud.

“So that’s why it didn’t work on Senior.”

Reflecting on this, Moen felt a pang of gratitude.

Luckily the potion takes effect slowly. If he had transformed in front of Senior Sister, she undoubtedly would have delighted in making the moment into a full-blown makeover event with her mischievous little devil tendencies.

Just imagining Senior strutting over with a wicked grin, holding a frilly dress in one hand, Moen involuntarily shivered.

“Looks like the morning training is off for now. Might as well get back in bed and catch another nap.”

Estimating that the potion’s effects would take a while yet to wear off, Moen decided to enjoy a short nap to counter the unexpected exhaustion brought by his premonition dream.

“Surely, after something so ridiculous, nothing else unexpected will come my way, right?”

…

…

“Reine, don’t tell me you’ve made it this far without a single girl ever liking you.”

In a dark room, Reine sat in contemplative silence.

Even though so much time had passed, that single comment from Moen Campbell still echoed endlessly in his mind.

Like an enchantment, it kept him awake at night, haunted his thoughts, and roused him in the dead of night.

But—

“That was the past!”

Reine raised his head, his eyes ablaze with fervent determination in the dark.

“And why, you ask? Because I’ve found my true love!”

As he spoke, he stood up and opened the wardrobe that stood before him.

Inside the wardrobe were hundreds and hundreds of pairs of underwear—men’s underwear.

Packed tightly together, piled sky-high, with every conceivable style… they were all men’s underpants.

Reine picked up one pair and looked at it with visible delight.

“Oh, great god of love, you’ve taught me the essence of true love.”

“And now, I need no one else—not women, not anyone else! I don’t need them!”

Reine shouted feverishly, slamming the wardrobe shut and securing it with locks upon locks.

Finally, he left his room.

Waiting for him outside were numerous rugged men with toned muscles, standing in eerie silence.

“Let’s go.”

Reine said:

“I’ll lead you to Moen Campbell.”

…

…

“Boom!”

Moen had barely climbed back into bed, still trying to warm up the blankets, when a thunderous explosion sounded in the distance.

“What’s happening?”

He sat bolt upright, staring out the window in alarm.

An enemy invasion?

No, that’s not right.

The invasion event shouldn’t happen for another month!

“It’s just thunder, surely it’s just thunder.”

Even though the weather outside was clear, with stars plainly visible, Moen was determined to convince himself it was nothing but thunder.

After all, he’d barely begun his planned month of ease and rest. How could it possibly be ending before it had even started?

Moen nodded vigorously, as if reassuring himself.

Then he tucked the blanket under his chin, ready to sleep again…

Sleep now?

That explosion clearly sounded like something blowing up campus property.

Furthermore, judging by the direction, the explosion happened near the teacher’s dormitory!

The teacher’s dorm housed plenty of masters and professors from the academy—whoever orchestrated the attack must be insane to pick the most difficult target immediately!

Moen leapt out of bed, preparing to throw on some clothes no matter what. He couldn’t possibly be seen in public dressed in a white shirt and boxers with his current appearance as a curvy blonde bombshell.

“Boom!”

Another explosion echoed.

This time it was close.

Very close.

The shockwave sent wooden splinters and debris flying into the room, brushing Moen’s nose.

“What the hell—”

Before Moen could fully express his shock or fury, he froze, watching the scene play out before him.

Through the thick smoke and dust from the blast, a group of muscular men burst into the room.

They all wore nothing but thongs.

These men, shaved bald and built like bulls, gleamed with an oily shine under the dim lighting as if smeared in some unknown substance.

“Masculinity. Kings. Strong. ♂...”

Strange thoughts popped into Moen’s mind spontaneously.

If it were just one musclebound man standing before him, Moen might have been able to appreciate him as a bodybuilder—an athlete sculpted by hard training.

But so many of them at once…

Moen felt like his eyes were burning.

What kind of madness is this?

A secret convention for fitness coaches?

“This is the place, yeah?”

The muscle-bound men clearly had undergone rigorous training. Their movements were swift and disciplined, as they silently secured the room so efficiently that no windows or doors could offer an escape route.

Then, one particularly imposing man stepped through the blown-out entrance, ducking slightly because he was too tall for the frame.

He surveyed the room with indifferent eyes, pausing briefly at Moen but quickly moving on.

Failing to spot the person he sought, the high priest frowned and questioned one of his subordinates:

“You said this is Moen Campbell’s room. Where is he?”

“This is Moen Campbell’s room for certain.”

The only man wearing clothes scratched his head in confusion.

The sight of him made Moen’s eyes widen.

Reine!

What is he doing here!?

Wait—no—it actually doesn’t feel strange for him to mix in with such a group.

But that’s not the point. The point is…

Their target appears to be me?

Yet due to the potion’s effects, they haven’t recognized me.

“I don’t care. Where is he?”

The high priest scanned the modest room once more, thoroughly checking every shadowy corner but still unable to find his target. Frustrated, he pointed at Moen:

“This room contains nothing but this blonde beauty. So, where’s even a trace of Moen Campbell?”

“Well…”

Reine continued to look puzzled.

This was clearly room 526—he couldn’t be mistaken.

His room was on the same floor, how could he forget?

He turned his eyes toward Moen.

As his gaze swept over this unfamiliar blonde beauty, he hesitated, then suddenly lit up with realization.

Moen’s heart clenched.

Could it be that he’s figured out…

“I’ve got it!”

Reine slapped his knee.

“Moen Campbell he's a playboy, and this woman must be his girlfriend! She must know where he is!”

“Really?”

“Yes, without a doubt.”

Instantly, Reine’s expression twisted with venomous anger.

“Bringing his girlfriend into the dorm secretly—how shameless, how immoral! Such an act corrupts the entire atmosphere of campus life! Does he even respect academy regulations?”

Wait a minute—you brought a naked mob into a dorm room, and that doesn’t violate school rules?

Moen resisted the urge to complain internally but froze immediately afterward.

Bringing men into male dorms… technically doesn’t contradict the school rules?

…

“Ah, makes sense.”

The high priest nodded thoughtfully, seeming to accept Reine’s reasoning.

Then he turned back to Moen.

Even though several meters separated them, he didn’t move closer. Instead, he asked coldly:

“Miss, can you inform me where Moen Campbell is?”

Feeling that speaking from such a distance was odd, Moen’s lip twitched slightly. Lowering his voice to mimic a woman’s timbre, he forced a smile and replied:

“Well… I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? But aren’t you his girlfriend? He wouldn’t have left you, his girlfriend, alone here without telling you where he went.”

“I’m definitely not his girlfriend! I’m… uh… I’m his…”

Moen thought rapidly and answered, “I’m his sister! I just happened to be staying in his dorm room tonight, but I have no idea where he’s off galavanting.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Reine frowned.

“The Campbell family is well-known to only have single heirs. How could Moen Campbell have a sister?”

“…”

What the heck, the Campbell family’s lack of offspring has become widely known?

Moen’s lips tightened faintly, and he quickly corrected himself:

“A cousin—cousin, okay? I’m actually his cousin! Freshly enrolled as a first-year in Saint Maria Academy, so naturally, no one’s heard about me yet!”

“Oh, I see.”

The high priest nodded, apparently unbothered by Moen’s claims.

After all, the blonde beauty before him did bear a vague resemblance to the portrait of Moen Campbell.

Compared to “girlfriend,” "cousin" was indeed more plausible.

“Well, as his cousin.”

The high priest’s eyes turned cold once more. “You might still prove useful in forcing Moen Campbell into surrender. Someone—tie her up for me.”

“Yes, sir!”

Reine obeyed the command, pulling out a bundle of rope as he slowly closed the distance between himself and Moen.

Moen’s breath quickened.

Quietly, he moved his hand behind him, gripping the fruit knife he had snagged from the desk earlier.

Should he fight back now? Should he just surrender?

Although the odds of victory against ten muscle-bound men were slim, becoming a captive without resistance…

“Hmm?”

In the middle of his mental tug-of-war, Moen tilted his head, showing a somewhat puzzled expression.

Because Reine didn't immediately tie him up. Instead, he held that bundle of hemp ropes and paced back and forth in front of Moen, as if hesitating about something. Occasionally, his gaze would sweep over Moen's body, particularly lingering on her chest—the two prominent curves that seemed even more conspicuous under the restraint of her buttons. When his eyes stopped there, his face, full of heavy features, suddenly flushed slightly.

"Um..."

Scratching his head, Reine awkwardly turned to the high priest and said, "High Priest, I've never touched a girl before. I heard that their bodies are really soft—what if I accidentally use too much strength and... break her?"

What are you, some kind of innocent boy? The type that blushes just by looking at a girl?

Moen was left utterly dumbfounded by Reine's shy confession.

But it didn’t end there.

The cold and ruthless high priest—who looked as if he wouldn’t flinch even if rivers of blood flowed before him—suddenly blushed as well after hearing Reine’s words.

"I haven't touched a girl either, so I wouldn't know."

Moen: "..."

What kind of organization is this?

The Brotherhood of Awkwardly Innocent Boys?

Wake up! Two pure-hearted boys together will never gain any experience with women. At this rate, you'll end up single for life!

"So what should we do?" Reine asked.

The high priest frowned and looked around. "Has anyone here ever touched a girl?"

"No."

All the muscle-bound men shook their heads in unison.

Of course not—they’d be burned at the stake for touching a female cow, let alone a woman. How could they have ever been near one?

Besides, the so-called Cult of True Love survives solely on beer, dumbbells, and the sweat and groans of men. Where would there even be room for women?

"I’ll do it."

At that moment, like a savior destined to appear when the world was about to end, a young, fresh-faced muscle man stepped forward.

He pulled out a pair of handcuffs, his expression as solemn as a soldier marching into battle after making a vow to "win this battle and return home to marry.”

The other muscle men silently watched him, as if witnessing the birth of a hero.

Even the high priest revealed a look of admiration.

With such selfless members, how could the Cult of True Love not flourish?

The young muscle man approached Moen.

Moen glanced at the handcuffs in his hands, thought for a moment, and then decided to abandon any notion of resistance for now. She hid the fruit knife behind her boxer shorts and cooperatively extended her hands.

The young man held his breath, cautiously locking the handcuffs around Moen’s wrists.

But no matter how careful he was, he couldn’t avoid his hands brushing against Moen’s.

He had touched, in his eyes, a woman’s hand.

And so…

Like paint spilled over his head, his face turned red all the way to the base of his neck.

His heart pounded violently in his chest, like a husky that hadn't been outside in a month finally being let loose to run wild.

Even Moen could hear his racing heartbeat.

"I..."

The young muscle man staggered back a few steps. Feeling the softness that lingered on his fingertips, he clutched his chest, his face full of confusion.

After a brief hesitation, he looked at Moen’s face, his voice trembling as he murmured softly, "Mom, I think... I think I just fell in love."

What.

What the hell kind of love is this? You’re just shy because you’ve never touched a girl before!

Moen, hearing his heartfelt confession, didn’t even know what to say anymore.

Falling in love after just touching someone’s hand? What are you, a kindergarten kid?

Do you want me to—

The next moment.

Before Moen could finish her internal rant, her eyes widened in shock.

Because blood sprayed before her.

The innocent, lovesick young muscle man, with shyness and confusion still lingering on his face, was suddenly beheaded right in front of her.

It happened so abruptly.

Hot blood splattered onto Moen's face, staining her white shirt with grotesque red marks.

The young man’s severed head rolled to Moen’s feet, his eyes still wide open in disbelief.

The high priest retracted his large, gleaming blade, his face twisted into a cold sneer.

"Another filthy traitor violating the sacred creed."

Gurgle, gurgle...

As the high priest’s words resounded, the young man’s body suddenly started to writhe. The flesh and blood seemed to take on a life of their own, abandoning the confines of bones and skin as they twisted and squirmed. Faint outlines of organs and tendons could be seen, yet they moved like countless worms, crawling up the high priest’s body and burrowing into the thick, ancient tome he clutched in one hand.

From within the tome came faint, grotesque sounds of gluttonous delight as it devoured the blood and flesh.

Within seconds, all that was left in front of Moen was a dried skeleton wrapped in shriveled skin.

Moen felt his entire body grow cold.

In that moment, he felt an all-too-familiar, bone-chilling aura emanating from the tome.

And he finally understood why these menacing, muscle-bound zealots had gone to such lengths to capture him.

They were believers of that god of love.

The corrupted god of love whom Moen had humiliated, annihilated, and thoroughly obliterated not long ago.

To say they bore a grudge against him now was an understatement.

Moen was certain this one wanted his head on a silver platter. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have wasted two precious seconds learning human language just to hurl threats at him before being defeated.

Moen was keenly aware of how dire the consequences were when a dark god marked someone for revenge. He had been preparing for such a scenario.

But he hadn’t expected…

The vengeance to come so quickly!

According to standard narrative tropes, when the protagonist provokes the villain, the villain is supposed to give them some time to lay low and grow stronger. Otherwise, the plot wouldn’t develop if the protagonist got squashed immediately.

But it's only been, what, a few days? Barely a fortnight, if you’re being generous.

Was this god’s thirst for revenge boundless?

Oh right. He isn’t the protagonist. Never mind.

"Hmm? Why do you look so scared?"

The high priest glanced at Moen with a puzzled expression.

"B-because someone just died in front of me," Moen stammered, struggling to keep his trembling legs under control. He forced a smile more painful than a grimace. "Shouldn’t any delicate girl be terrified in a situation like this?"

"...I see." The high priest stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know much about women, but I didn’t realize they were such frail creatures."

Even ordinary men are this frail, you idiot! If I hadn’t witnessed Aluka in her transformed state before, I’d probably be on my knees by now!

Maintaining a weak, harmless smile that screamed "please don’t hurt me,” Moen began to inch backward, step by step.

Don’t panic, Moen. Stay calm.

Those corrupted by the god of love typically suffer from diminished intellect, as the twisted affection in their hearts consumes most of their sanity. For now, these muscle-bound zealots probably haven't figured out that I'm Moen.

Stay steady. Find a chance to slip away.

If escape isn't an option, this is still Santa Maria College. As long as I buy some time, someone will definitely come to my rescue!

"Let’s move forward," the high priest declared, putting away his tome and raising his voice to command the zealots. "We must find that blasphemer, Moen Campbell, and offer him as a sacrifice to the Great God of Love!"

"Offer him to the Great God of Love!" the muscle-bound zealots chanted fervently, seemingly indifferent to the fact that one of them had just been reduced to a feast for the unknown.

...

...

"Wait, this isn’t the kind of ‘waiting for rescue’ I had in mind!"

On the dormitory rooftop, winds howled.

Moen stood in utter despair, forced to balance precariously on the edge of the railing as the high priest’s blade pressed against his back.

Below, the dormitory area was ablaze with lights.

Piercing alarms blared, and a mixture of magical and mechanical illuminations lit up half the night sky as if it were daytime.

Explosions rumbled in the distance, mingling with the terrified cries of underclassmen.

Muscle men wreaked havoc everywhere.

The ground below was a chaotic scene. The younger students, unfamiliar with such violence, scattered like frightened sheep.

Amidst the chaos, however, Moen could faintly make out familiar figures moving against the tide, joining the battlefield to fight the zealots.

Further away, reinforcements from the senior students were rushing to their aid.

Aside from the fleeing cowards or teachers who bizarrely hadn’t shown up yet, it seemed like half the college was converging on this dormitory.

The scene was boiling with tension.

But at that moment, within the dead look in Moen's eyes, something stirred.

The high priest stepped beside him and slowly raised—

A MAGICAL MEGAPHONE.

"Moen Campbell——"

The amplified voice echoed loudly.

In an instant.

The chaos below fell silent.

"Look who I’ve got here! Someone important to you, isn’t it? If you want to save her, stop hiding like a coward! Be a man and step forward! I’ll be waiting right here!"

Those in the midst of battle, those in flight, and even those still approaching, all turned their eyes toward the source of the announcement.

What they saw was a towering muscle-bound man. Beside him stood an extremely conspicuous blonde beauty dressed oddly.

Wow, what a gorgeous blonde!

As all eyes locked onto her, Moen—standing precariously on a wind-swept rooftop, dressed lightly and freezing her proverbial tail off—felt her cheeks flush hotter than they ever had before.

Noooo!

Please.

Don’t look up.

Don’t look at me like that.

I’m begging you, stop staring!

...

...

"Moen Campbell again? What kind of mess has he gotten into now?"

Ariel swung a massive sword—larger than her own body—knocking a charging muscle brute unconscious. She followed the voice overhead and looked up.

And the irritation on her face, triggered by hearing "Moen Campbell," instantly turned serious.

"I have to save that beauty," Ariel declared.

"Eh—"

Lea, who was continuously casting holy light to support Ariel, let out a surprised exclamation.

"But there are so many enemies there! Wait, is she someone you know, Ariel?"

"No, I don’t know her at all. In fact, I’m actually a bit annoyed that she seems to be connected to that Moen Campbell.

But——"

Ariel rubbed her chin thoughtfully and said seriously:

"This beauty somehow is my type. I can't just let her be like this."

"Even though I'm your childhood friend right here by your side, you're still worrying about other women. Ariel, you're so mean!" Lea cried out, tears in her eyes.

"I'm just going to get her number and will be right back!"

But at that moment, Ariel had already rushed out. Though exasperated, Lea had no choice but to follow.

...

...

In the shadows where light could not reach, an enchanting figure darted through the forest, swaying nimbly like a snake.

Suddenly, the figure halted, standing atop a tree branch, gazing at the magnificent golden-haired beauty in the dormitory building in the distance.

"Junior?"

A ray of light shining from afar illuminated a delicate, alluring face with a captivating charm.

"So this is what the potion's effect turns out to be?"

A glimmer of understanding flashed in Anna's eyes, but in an instant, it transformed into a mesmerizing smile that could stir hearts.

"As expected of Moen junior."

Anna's lips curved into a smile, her beautiful eyes slightly narrowing, making the tear mole at the corner of her eyes appear even more alluring.

"Never fails to pique my curiosity."

With that, Anna once again transformed into a nimble shadow, swiftly darting towards the dormitory.

...

...

"They even took students as hostages?"

Inside the student council room, Celicia stared at the brightly lit dormitory area in the distance, her expression as heavy as storm clouds.

She hadn't expected the academy, protected by the three-layer Grand Magic Shield, to be infiltrated by outside enemies.

"Wait, with the third-layer Grand Magic Shield active, it's impossible for the academy to be infiltrated by mere weaklings who can only bully students. Which means..."

The third-layer Grand Magic Shield had already been deactivated? Why?

Was this the change brought about by Pink Bear?

Or was the true reason something he wouldn't say, couldn't say—a truth bound by some vow of silence?

Celicia’s gaze flickered.

However, regardless of the reasons, as the student council president, she couldn't just sit idly by.

Though she didn’t understand why the teachers and professors had been inactive since the initial explosion, she knew that was beyond her reach for now. Her priority was to clean out those revolting pests first.

Celicia rose, preparing to head to the dormitory area.

But after taking just two steps, as if sensing something, she abruptly froze, her gaze darkening.

"Weier."

"I'm... I'm here."

Weier's voice came from beyond the door.

"Take the elite members of the student council and go clear out those pests in the dormitory area. Remember, everything must be done with the safety of hostages as the top priority."

"Understood."

Weier responded firmly but then asked hesitantly, "What about you, President?"

"You go first. I have something to take care of."

"Alright."

Trusting Celicia implicitly, Weier didn’t probe further and quickly left.

After Weier departed, silence returned.

Utter silence.

It felt as though all noise had been stripped away from the small room, leaving Celicia to hear only the slightly accelerated rhythm of her own breathing.

She lowered her head, staring at the ground.

In the corner of the room, shadows cast by moonlight stretched and twisted, creeping toward her, yet stopping less than twenty centimeters away from her feet—blocked by a thin layer of frost.

The shadows roamed around the edges of the ice like wolves preparing to hunt a flock of sheep.

"Hoo—"

Following the suffocating silence, a second person's breath could be heard in the room.

A hunched, emaciated figure cloaked in black robes held a dim lantern, gazing at Celicia’s impassive face. His tone carried a hint of genuine admiration:

"To think that Her Highness the Princess would notice ahead of time. A shame, truly a shame. It was so close—just a little more, and the Empire's prideful Third Princess would have perished here."

"I, too, did not expect..."

Celicia raised her eyes, her pale blue gaze seemingly encased in ancient, unmelting ice.

"That at the same time, two dark god followers would make their way to Santa Maria College."

Outside the window.

From Celicia’s perspective, the once-beautiful silver moon had quietly turned into a cold shade of blue.

Under the eerie, deathlike glow of the blue moonlight, the shadows of everything in the world seemed to morph into grotesque specters.

Dark god.

Moon of Silence!