"Wake up!!" A girl’s shout right by my ear jolted me awake.

I sat up, slightly dazed, to find Xu Wanyou already in her school uniform, combing her silky hair—still the class beauty I remembered. Seeing me alert, she pointed beside the bed: "Here. You didn’t bring a uniform, right? This is my spare. Wear it for now!"

Hmm. A uniform worn by the class beauty… just thinking about it gave me a little thrill. I could probably sell it to Hippo for a good price.

Our school’s uniforms were unisex—only the sizes differed. My height and build matched Wanyou’s closely enough that wearing hers to class wouldn’t raise eyebrows.

After changing, I wandered to the living room. Only 6 a.m.? Way too early. But watching Wanyou meticulously applying makeup before the bathroom mirror, I vaguely recalled girls needing extra time before heading out. Once done, she called to me: "Tongtong, you didn’t bring skincare, did you? Use mine!"

I stared at the sea of bottles and jars, overwhelmed. "Nah. My skin’s naturally good. No need."

"Confident, huh? But your hair still needs tidying."

"Skip it. I’m pretending to be a boy today. Messy hair helps hide my face."

Pre-packed frozen meals from the fridge became our simple breakfast. Wanyou and I sat at the kitchen table, chatting about school gossip while eating. Lazy morning light filled the room; birdsong drifted in. Everything felt so ordinary, so warm—I almost had the illusion of sharing a meal with a newlywed wife. Shaking off the thought, I glanced at Wanyou with a trace of complexity in my gaze.

After breakfast, I pulled out my alchemical Skin Mask and carefully applied it before the mirror. Wanyou fiddled with my one-way lens glasses nearby. "Why’s the lens so blurry? Can you even see?"

"Not blurry at all. It’s a one-way lens. Crystal clear from my side."

"Really? Let me try!" Wanyou slipped them on and gasped. "Whoa! Totally clear now! Hehe, these are fun. I want a pair!"

"You’d never use them…"

Applying the Skin Mask took time—every seam had to cling seamlessly to the skin. Plus, alchemical masks couldn’t stay on too long; the grimoire warned of skin damage without regular cleaning. I followed its rules faithfully.

*Riiip.*

Lost in thought, I froze at the faint tearing sound. Half the mask dangled from my hand. I stared, dumbfounded.

Wanyou jumped. "This mask is junk! It just ripped apart?"

Like any product, alchemical gear had quality tiers and expiry dates. My beginner-level crafting explained the shoddy mask—but not *this* shoddy. Barely a month old, and it failed. Selling this would’ve swamped me with terrible reviews.

My eyelid twitched. This was bad.

"Now we’re in trouble," Wanyou voiced my thoughts. "You can’t go to school like this. No one’ll believe you’re Wu Tong."

True. Making a new mask was impossible without my alchemical workbench and materials. We stared at each other, clueless.

"Wanyou-jiejie, you should go. You’ll be late."

"What about you?"

"Ugh… tell the teacher I’m sick. I’ll hide here."

"Guess that’s the only way…"

Wanyou left for the subway, backpack slung over her shoulder. I stayed alone in her empty apartment. Her trust stunned me—letting a stranger stay in her home killed even my urge to snoop through her underwear drawer. I dumped books from my spatial ring onto the floor, searching for solutions.

By noon, I’d found two options.

First: In the other world, master alchemists could craft high-grade Skin Masks—even full-body disguises with hair and limbs. A custom set would let me face my parents without fear.

Second: Illusion magic. Beyond the basic elements, magic branched into specialties like Illusion. A skilled Illusion Mage could alter appearances effortlessly.

But both paths had hurdles. Custom alchemy cost a fortune—far beyond a commoner’s means. Masters were often reclusive eccentrics or prickly personalities who’d refuse help no matter the price. Learning Illusion magic was equally tough; spellcasting secrets were guarded closely. Publicly known spells were rare. New ones required trading rare materials or heavy coin—and the mage’s goodwill.

Both options also demanded returning to the other world.

Did I have to teleport again? My spatial ring held only enough magic crystals for one trip back. Returning would be impossible. Plus, drawing the portal required "Tuke Beast carapace powder"—and where would I find a Tuke Beast *here*?

Wait. This *Common Magical Beasts Compendium* entry felt familiar…

[*Tuke Beast: An amphibious magical creature with extreme longevity. Its ribs form a hardened carapace shield. When threatened, it retracts entirely inside, leaving predators helpless.*]

Why did this beast feel so familiar? No—*tasted* familiar. I’d eaten one before. Supposedly great for health.

Noon was passing. Delaying would only worsen things. Mom must be frantic with worry. I needed a fix—fast.