"Wait, I'm Supposed to Become a Goddess?! But I'm a Guy!"

The first morning light crept in like a quiet visitor, slipping through the gap in the curtains and spilling soft golden rays across the room.

It touched everything gently—the corner of the bed, the scattered bags on the floor, and eventually, Mize's sleeping face.

The warmth from the sun was subtle at first, a soft invitation to wake, but soon it grew persistent, coaxing him out of the deep sleep he had drifted into during the night.

Outside, the city had already begun its daily hum.

The faint sound of cars moving on the street below was a distant backdrop, mixing with the occasional honk of a horn, muffled conversations of early risers, and the low rumble of buses making their rounds.

Life was moving on, like it always did, while Mize lay curled up in the quiet sanctuary of his apartment.

His long lashes fluttered for a moment, reacting to the warmth of the sunlight that now rested on his cheek. He shifted under the blanket, his hair spread like ink against the pillow, still half-lost in the fantasy.

His body felt heavy, almost reluctant to move, as if the weight of dreams still clung to him, pulling him back into that comforting haze.

But the sunlight wasn't having it.

Mize scrunched his face a little, turning his head to escape the brightness, but it was no use.

The morning was calling, and the day had already begun without him. He groaned softly, a mix of frustration and sleepy resignation, before finally letting his eyes crack open.

Just a sliver at first, peeking out through the blur of sleep to make sense of the world around him.

The room was calm, bathed in that early morning glow. The air felt cool and fresh, with a faint hint of the night still lingering as the city's warmth slowly began to seep in.

Mize let out a long, slow breath, his body stretching beneath the sheets. His arms reached above his head, and his legs straightened, toes pointing outward as he groaned again, this time with the sweet relief of a good stretch.

The muscles in his back loosened, and the sleepiness that had weighed him down started to lift.

His phone buzzed softly from the bedside table, messages and messages coming in... but Mize like always wasn't one to reply.

He didn't check it right away, though. Instead, Mize sat up slowly, letting the blanket fall away as he ran a hand through his tousled black hair, pushing it out of his face.

He blinked a few times, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he let out a soft yawn.

His mind was still fuzzy, lingering in the in-between space where the remnants of dreams mixed with the reality of the day ahead.

He glanced toward the window, where the sunlight filtered in, dappling the room with soft shadows.

The city outside was already alive, but inside, everything still felt quiet, like the day hadn't quite reached him yet.

Mize pulled himself out of bed, his bare feet touching the cool floor, and he padded softly toward the kitchen.

Mize sat there, staring at his phone in disbelief, the screen glowing faintly in the soft morning light.

The message from Derek and the bank notification confirming the transfer made his breath hitch for a second.

A thousand dollars, just like that.

He blinked, then let out a disbelieving laugh, his body slumping back against the chair.

His loose, oversized clothes slipped further down his shoulder, exposing the pale, flawless skin underneath.

Mize caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror across the room, his reflection capturing the mix of bewilderment and amusement on his face. His ruby-like eyes glistened in the light, sharp and beautiful, but cold as ice.

"He's for real... he sent it," he murmured to himself, running a hand through his long black hair.

A soft smile curved on his lips.

Sipping from the glass of water, he savored the moment.

He put the glass down and picked up his phone again, scrolling through the messages he had sent earlier.

A whole string of protests, polite refusals, and exaggerated confusion about how to return the money, though it was all an act of pretense. To make the picture of his personality in Derek's eyes more perfect... or not too perfect. 

"Alas, what a perfect performance, no?" he mused, tapping the screen lightly, savoring the moment of his brilliance.

He could almost see Derek's face on the other end of the phone, probably feeling all warm and fuzzy for helping someone so "innocent." The thought made him chuckle.

It was all a game, "Well a short one at that"

Mize stood up, his bare feet making soft sounds against the wooden floor as he paced around the room, still shaking his head in disbelief.

His long hair swayed behind him like a dark shadow, and his oversized shirt clung loosely to his thin frame.

He walked over to the window, pulled the curtain aside, and let the sunlight pour into the room. The morning outside was bright, the city already bustling with life, but Mize wasn't focused on that.

"Ding."

Another message from Derek. Mize raised an eyebrow, tapping the screen again.

"Make sure to go to school, and here's another $1000."

"Huh?" Mize's eyes widened again. "Another thousand?"

The second bank notification buzzed in almost instantly after the message. He couldn't help but laugh, a high-pitched sound of disbelief and amusement escaping his lips.

"Is this game for real?" he muttered, shaking his head as he slumped back onto the bed. His long sleeves slid further down, but he didn't bother fixing them this time.

Leaning back, he let out a long sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

"He's falling for this," he said, almost to himself. "Hook, line, and sinker."

"Well, whatever it might be the case, I will have to prepare to go to school before the bus departs without me" Mize stood up, his eyes fixed on the table watch arrow for a moment.

It was exactly at 10 am, an hour before 11 when the bus would depart at that time.

The schooling time system for the human race had been synchronized into one, with more ample time in the morning for the kids to prepare themselves, and the school time, no matter what must end before 7 at night.

A total of 6 days of school, except Sunday. It was to honor those warriors and legends of important human figures that had served the human race, more or so a day for remembrance.

Knowing that he had over one hour of preparation, Mize then began to select the fit for the school day. He is in his senior year, and despite so many years studying in this school, barely a few know him well.

He was the kid at the back of the class that is as unpopular as he was invisible. Not much was known about him, having few friends, and the rest were just a mystery.

And this loophole of many people not knowing much about him. Mize planned to take advantage of it.

"System, sum up all the points that I gained last night"

[1200 points in total, host]

"I see... that's quite a lot"

[Yes host, half of these points came from the target's emotional fluctuation, and the other hand was due to the physical contact that the host and the target had done]

To this, Mize's reaction wasn't much as he simply kept on searching for a proper set of clothes.

"Just holding hands gave me that many points, huh?" Mize muttered under his breath, eyes scanning the cluttered closet, rifling through piles of clothes.

His fingers paused briefly, grazing over the fabric, as his mind replayed the scene from last night.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

"It's like you're practically suggesting I should just commit the forbidden act next," he murmured, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he leaned deeper into the closet.

The system's voice chimed in, its response monotone and clinical.

[Host, this system is simply detailing the source of each point you gained from your actions.]

"Yeah, sure, sure…" Mize straightened up, finally pulling out the set of clothes he had in mind.

The black jeans were almost cargo-like, rugged, and functional, while the oversized white jersey had a sleek black flower logo on the back. Stylish, and simple, but just enough to catch attention without looking like he tried too hard.

He glanced at himself in the mirror, sizing up his small frame. His long black hair, now reaching his shoulders, gave him that delicate look that had always worked to his advantage.

Pulling the shirt over his head, he smiled to himself, the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Let's see how far I can push this game."

Mize stood in front of the tall mirror, carefully tying his long black hair into a ponytail. His ruby-like eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he admired his reflection.

"There..." he whispered, observing the final look. He patted his cheeks, making a few playful pouts and expressions, adjusting his features.

His appearance, even to his critical eye, was mesmerizing. Despite being male, he carried an ethereal beauty that many would envy. "A pity... that I can't do anything about my height yet" he sighed, tugging at his oversized shirt, which hid the slight creases at his waistline.