No way.

Absolutely impossible.

I stared at the mirror before me, disbelief plastered across my face.

Creamy skin. Cherry-red lips.

Pink hair spilled carelessly over my shoulders, falling past my waist. A tiny demon horn, like a sprouting bamboo shoot, poked out from the right side of my head.

A chest as flat as a pancake. A height barely reaching two-thirds of this full-length mirror.

Sky-blue eyes so stunning they could only be called "breathtaking." And above them, a single strand of hair bobbing lifelessly like it had a mind of its own.

I’d turned into a girl?

A cute pink-haired loli??

My mind went blank as I gazed at the unreal beauty in the mirror. My soul felt like it was spinning upward, climbing endlessly.

In short: an out-of-body experience.

At the same time, my heart hammered wildly against my ribs. The corners of my lips curled up. An indescribable fondness bubbled up inside me.

Before this, I wouldn’t have known how to describe it. But now, with this girl’s body? This frantic heartbeat had a name—

In short: butterflies in my stomach.

Mom, this feels like falling in love…

No, no! Grinning like an idiot at my own reflection? That’s just narcissism!

Then I realized—I actually knew this adorable loli in the mirror.

Because this face… I’d drawn it. Stroke by stroke.

No. Too much info. I can’t handle this…

…Wait. Calm down. I need to sort this out properly.

Minutes ago, I’d been rushing a commission at Starbucks.

As a somewhat well-known doujin illustrator, I took all kinds of jobs. Popular because I never turned down requests—yuri, pure romance, BL, you name it.

Ahem. A guy’s gotta eat.

Truth was, as a hardcore loli connoisseur, I’d always wanted to draw cute little girls. But I’d never dared to make actual doujin of them. Just harmless character art.

Then, two days ago, a friend connected me with a shady indie game dev. They wanted me to design the final boss for their dodgy online game—just a basic character illustration.

No clue why they’d hire a doujin artist, but their requirements were simple: female, eye-catching, cheap outfit. Minimalist. All about appeal.

Hearing that, I almost laughed out loud. Was this my ticket out of the doujin trenches?

…Kidding. Who spits on cash?

Anyway, I got their drift. They wanted a busty, seductive dominatrix—the kind that makes players sprint to the bathroom afterward.

I’d planned to draw exactly that. But right before sketching, something snapped. On a whim, I called the client: "What if she’s a loli instead?"

Loli bosses are way trendier than tired old dominatrixes. They’d hook all the loli-loving players… uh, I mean, *genuine fans*. And after getting wrecked by her repeatedly? That frustration would turn into… uh, *motivation to support the game*.

So a day later, my draft featured a scantily clad black-haired loli oozing subtle allure.

I-I’m not used to drawing adult comics or anything!

I handed in the draft. The client seemed thrilled—well, sort of.

He took one look, mumbled an excuse, and vanished into the restroom. Three minutes later, he emerged with the serene face of an enlightened monk.

Then he told my confident self: "Great draft! Just… change the hair color. I hate black."

He quickly pivoted to chatting about his favorite anime girls—Yuno Gasai, Madoka Kaname, Shaco…

Wait. Wasn’t one of those… off? Actually, two?

After that call, I lit a cigarette, staring at my draft. My eyes locked onto the loli’s lovely black hair. A knowing smile spread across my face.

The truth was obvious.

This client was a hardcore pink-hair fetishist.

Knowing his weakness made everything easy.

Days later, he took my second draft—and bolted straight for the restroom again.

This time, he stayed four minutes. Then he rushed out, gushing: "PERFECT! Absolutely perfect!"

And tossed me a 200-word lore dump. "Design her second form based on this."

It added a corrupted mode—her phase two. Gotta give the final boss *some* dignity, right?

I thought it over. Simple.

In this era, what truly determines a moe girl’s combat power?

Not bloodline. Not weapons. It’s *exposure level*. (Just kidding!)

Picture a shut-in facing a girl wrapped head-to-toe versus one in a summer swimsuit. The shock to his fragile heart? Worlds apart!

In short: less clothing = higher combat power (otaku lethality). More clothing = weaker.

So I shredded his lore dump. Time to strip this already-underdressed loli down further.

The next day, sketching at an outdoor Starbucks table, an ear-splitting truck horn shattered the air.

I looked up. On the roadside near me stood a tiny girl in a sailor uniform and white thigh-highs. She stared in frozen terror at the massive truck barreling toward her.

Wait—why was there a white-thigh-highs loli on the road? And why did this scene feel so familiar?

Instinct screamed to save her. But I was too far. Without superpowers kicking in within three seconds, I’d just watch tragedy unfold.

I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to witness it—

Then, years of driving experience kicked in. The trucker yanked the wheel hard right. Tires screeched. The truck swerved, missing the loli by inches.

I exhaled in relief. Lolis are humanity’s treasure. Thank goodness she’s safe.

But… why was the truck still blaring its horn?

A second later, I stared dumbly at the truck tipping sideways—straight toward *me*.

*WTF? Was that even allowed?*

…

And that’s how a dedicated trucker squashed me into a little girl.

My own drawing.

When I woke up, I was in this room with nothing but a giant mirror.

Seriously? This plot’s straight out of a trashy manga.