Zhou Ruiyang stood over six feet tall with an athletic build, but beneath that sporty exterior lay a fair-skinned, bespectacled homebody.

Right now, he was fully immersed in his game, headphones on, fingers flying across the keyboard.

Mujin felt zero nerves around him.

Sure, Zhou looked the part of a cool guy—but he was actually a pushover: sweet, naive, and easy to manipulate.

Mujin pulled out his phone, tapped a few times, then sidled up to Zhou’s desk.

“Gaming, Xiao Yang?”

“Mhm.”

Mujin glanced at Zhou’s phone on the desk, then suddenly clapped his shoulder.

Zhou jolted, fumbled his controls, and watched his screen go black. He turned, scratching his head. “What’s up, Mujin?”

“Nothing much. This rewards app needs a shared link to claim a red packet. Mind if I use your phone?”

“Sure.” Zhou unlocked his phone and handed it over.

“Thanks.” Mujin took it—but instead of opening the rewards app, he swiped open *QQ Ball*.

After a few taps, he gasped. “Whoa—your class advisor just messaged you!”

“No way. I’m not even a class rep. Why would—huh?” Zhou took back his phone. Sure enough, a contact named 【Clueless】 had sent a message.

That was their advisor’s famously bizarre QQ nickname—so memorable nobody bothered to change it. Zhou hadn’t either.

【Come to the third floor of the Faculty Building. Now.】

“Weird. What does the advisor want?”

“Must be urgent. You should go.”

“But my match is still going.” Abandoning teammates wasn’t his style.

“No worries—I’ll take over. Go!” Mujin yanked Zhou up and slid into his chair.

“Okay, thanks!”

Zhou rushed out. Mujin didn’t move immediately. He held his breath, listening until the footsteps faded down the hall.

*Now.*

He sprang up, grabbed the hidden dress from his bed, and changed in seconds.

That “advisor” message? A fake account—same profile pic, same nickname. He’d even wiped Zhou’s chat history to cover his tracks.

But time was tight. Meng Xianyong could return any minute—the gym was just minutes away. The timer in his vision showed Meng had been gone over two minutes already.

*Two minutes. That’s all I’ve got.*

Shirt on. Thigh-high socks. Skirt. Wig.

A petite girl now stood in the center of the dorm room.

A holographic screen flickered before Mujin’s eyes. Familiar synth beats filled his ears. He mirrored the dancer on-screen, performing *Gokuraku Jodo (Ultimate Paradise)*.

He’d watched the dance countless times. His flexible body moved naturally—even the tricky butterfly steps were flawless.

He lost himself in the rhythm, hips swaying, movements growing fluid…

Then came the spin.

The virtual dancer pivoted smoothly into the next move.

Mujin froze mid-turn.

Like a wind-up toy snapping to a halt.

Because standing in the doorway—stunned rigid—was Zhou Ruiyang.

At first, Zhou didn’t recognize him. The wig, the dress, the slender legs… it looked like a real girl.

His eyes even flickered downward as the skirt twirled.

*White underwear.*

*Wait—*

*Where’d this girl come from? Where’s Mujin?*

As if hearing his thoughts, “the girl” turned around.

They locked eyes. Time stopped. Only the clock’s *click… click… click* broke the silence.

Footsteps echoed outside. Zhou slammed the door shut, then rubbed his cheek awkwardly.

“Uh… who are you?”

*He doesn’t recognize me?*

*Right. The wig hides my face. And he’s nearsighted.*

The System hadn’t flagged failure—so he hadn’t been ID’d. *Lucky break. Stay calm.*

A soft, melodic tone slipped from his lips. “Ah~ I’m Mujin’s friend. Just visiting.”

*Thank god for that “Voice Mimicry” skill from last week’s quest.*

“Oh! I forgot my phone.” Zhou gestured lamely.

Mujin turned.

Yep—the phone sat innocently on the desk.

*You idiot! Who forgets their phone going downstairs?!*

*Stupidity giveth, stupidity taketh away.*

He spun back around—and froze.

Zhou stood barely twenty centimeters away.

“Um… could you move?”

The “girl” didn’t speak, but her wide, panicked eyes said everything.

“O-oh! Go ahead.” Her voice was a whisper. Face flushed, she ducked her head and stepped aside.

Zhou grabbed his phone but didn’t leave. Up close, something felt off.

She *was* pretty… but why did she look like Mujin? How’d a girl get into the boys’ dorm? And where *was* Mujin?

Suspicion coiled in his gut.

“Aren’t you leaving?” the girl asked softly.

Zhou narrowed his eyes.

“…You’re Mujin, aren’t you?”

Mujin’s pupils shrank to pinpricks.

He tried to deny it—but no sound came out.

The “girl” stumbled back, face stiff, legs pressed together, fingers knotted tight. Every inch screamed guilt.

Zhou sighed. “Figures. How long has this been going on?”

Mujin swallowed hard. A bead of cold sweat slid down his temple.

*Since when are you this sharp?!*

*This is social death. Actual death would be kinder.*

*Why won’t the floor swallow me whole?!*

Just as despair hit its peak—

BBBBBBBBBBB!!!

*No clue what B is—but A is impossible!*

*Even if B is death, I’ll take it!*

*Wait—TURN INTO A SPARROW?!*

*What kind of messed-up plot twist is this?!*

The System ignored his panic, counting down coldly.

*FINE! I’LL TAKE A!*

*ANYTHING BUT B!*

Mujin lunged into Zhou’s arms and yelled, “Xiao Yang! I like you!”

“Huh?!” Zhou blinked, stunned.

*Happy now, System?!*

Darkness swallowed Mujin’s vision.