The Author's Playground
Chapter 51: Is it gay to love your genderbend self? (3)

Chapter 51: Is it gay to love your genderbend self? (3)

"Hehe..."

"Hehehe... HAHAHAHAHA!"

Laughter erupted from the small figure standing before the mirror. A brown-haired student, short in stature, with delicate features—one who looked exactly like...

Quasolium.

Or at least, that’s what anyone would think.

In reality—this was Elijah.

Yes, you read it right. Elijah himself.

His reflection grinned back at him, mischief twinkling in his stolen brown eyes. He turned his head side to side, listening to the voice that escaped his lips. Perfect. Even the pitch was spot on.

His fingers curled into fists.

"It’s so goddamn over—HA!" he—or she, for now—exclaimed, practically vibrating with excitement. "I can finally infiltrate the girls’ dorm!"

His plan had never felt more flawless.

"Just you wait, Calliope! I will expose your secret!"

More laughter followed—until suddenly, a thought struck him like a brick to the face.

"Wait a damn minute." His voice dropped, his excitement faltering. "If I go around looking like this and run into Lucian or Victoria... they might actually pass out thinking I’m a ghost."

His gaze flickered back to the mirror, contemplating his new face.

"...Can I adjust this?"

Curiosity sparked in his eyes as he pressed a finger to his chin.

The roundness of his face? Slimmed down.

The sharpness of his jawline? Increased.

The soft brown eyes? Darkened into a striking black.

The dull brown hair? Morphed into a flowing, deep blue hair.

His appearance shifted seamlessly before his eyes.

And now, standing in the mirror was someone completely different.

His mouth fell open in awe. "...Oh, I can merge my appearance. Neat."

Then, his lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk.

"Goddamn, I look pretty."

The next few minutes were spent posing.

First, a delicate hand on his waist, hips tilted slightly.

"Oh yeah~ 10/10 best girl."

Then, a coy leans forward, winking flirtatiously at his reflection.

"Born to be Pookie, forced to be an author."

And finally—hands delicately placed around his neck, head tilted just right, channeling his inner model energy.

"Hell yeaaaah!"

He was clearly enjoying himself.

Perhaps a little too much.

What was this called again?

Self-love? Self-cest?

Is it gay to love the woman in the mirror which is conveniently ’yourself’?

...Well, whatever it was, Elijah was thriving.

Admiring his new form with barely concealed delight, he wasted no time swapping into a girl’s uniform.

He adjusted the blouse, pulling the fabric ever so slightly to reveal just the right amount of cleavage. With a satisfied hum, he turned back to the mirror, puckered his lips—

And gave himself a kiss.

It was at that moment—

’BAM!’

The door slammed open.

A tall man stood in the doorway, green-haired and wide-eyed.

Varden.

For a long, painful second, he simply stared.

Elijah—still mid-self-admiration phase—stared back.

The room hung in a fragile silence.

Then, without a word...

Varden slowly—very slowly—closed the door.

******

Varden was going through it.

He squatted outside the F-Class dormitory, arms hugging his knees, eyes blank as if his entire worldview had just collapsed.

How?

How did he get here?

What higher power had decided he should be the one to bear witness to something so cursed?

...Well, let’s start from the beginning.

It all began with his new roommate.

Elijah.

The guy was rude, annoying, and, quite frankly, the worst person to share a living space with.

So today, Varden, being the more mature, responsible, and bigger person (totally). Decided that before Elijah could ruin his day, he would ruin Elijah’s first.

A preemptive strike, if you will.

So, naturally, he did what any self-respecting man would do—

He opened the door without knocking.

And then... he saw her.

A woman.

A. GODDAMN. WOMAN.

Varden’s brain stalled. His soul briefly left his body, grabbed a suitcase, and attempted to flee to another dimension.

’Who... the hell is that?!’

A million thoughts shot through his head at lightspeed.

’Did I enter the wrong room?’ (No, this is definitely my room.)

’Should I call an instructor? REPORT AN INTRUDER??’

’Wait... is she a stalker?!’

...No. No way. He had never been famous enough to get a stalker.

Then... then there was only one possibility.

A cold sweat ran down Varden’s back as the truth hit him like a divine revelation.

’It’s Elijah’s girlfriend.’

Oh. OH.

OF COURSE.

That explained everything.

Elijah must have been hiding a secret relationship, and this was his mysterious lover!

Varden nodded to himself. He was glad he had figured it out. He was a man of reason, after all.

And so with a new understanding that definitely he did not mistaken it—he confidently reopened the door.

Only this time...

Elijah was sitting on his bed.

Not as a woman.

Just Elijah.

His actual face was buried in his hands, radiating the kind of soul-crushing despair one would expect from a man who had seen something forbidden.

The air was heavy.

Slowly, Elijah peeked between his fingers. His voice remained hollow.

"Did you see that?"

Varden met his gaze.

"...I can explain—"

But before he could finish, Elijah lunged at him with a knife.

"DELETE IT FROM YOUR MIND."

"HOLY SHIT, MAN!!" Varden yelped, diving out of the way. "I SWEAR, I DIDN’T TOUCH YOUR GIRLFRIEND OR ANYTHING!!"

"I SAID. DELETE IT. FROM. YOUR MIND."

BAM!

******

On the Office.

Professor Sean moved with a gentle expression as he packed his things.

Stacks of papers, half-graded assignments, and a few stray books—each item found its place in the worn-out suitcase resting atop his desk.

His fingers brushed against a certain ’guide how to be a teacher’ book, and for a moment, he paused.

Tomorrow would be his last day as a teacher.

It had been a short tenure, much shorter than he had imagined when he first stepped into this role. He had hoped to leave an impact, to truly teach his students something valuable.

But now, as he stood in his dimly lit office, a quiet regret settled in his chest.

Had he done enough? Had he truly guided them?

His lips curled into a bittersweet smile. Perhaps not.

Just as emotion threatened to well up in his throat—

BANG!

The door swung open.

"Professor Sean! There’s a fight in the Class F dormitory!"

Sean didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t breathe.

A sharp crack echoed through the room.

His eyeglasses had fractured.

Twice.

His eye twitched. His fingers curled into a fist.

This... this was déjà vu.

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