HeTrOS Daily Transformation Report, August 29th, 2042:

Subject: 91b0f90e-bcd3-45f9-8fb2-4d12f4b65a8a (herein after "5a8a"), aka Emmanuelle "Emmy" Archer, publicly known as M-E.

Target Identity: Elyssia Windwhisper

Transformation Progress: 50% integration threshold reached.

Physical Adjustments:

Height: Decreased by an additional three inches.

Weight: Reduced by fifteen pounds.

Hair: Length increased by one and a quarter inch. Pigmentation shift of older hair strands progressing on target (58, 0, 70, 0). Extra growth matching target colour of 59, 0, 79, 0.

Muscle Mass: Upper body musculature softening, prioritising flexibility over force output. Lower body maintaining stability to support refined balance and rapid directional changes.

Shoulders: Narrowed by an additional seven percent.

Bones: Density redistributed toward Wind sylvani norms: lighter, but retaining tensile strength.

Pelvic tilt adjusted for improved centre of gravity, optimising for sylvan agility.

Skin: Pheomelanin and collagen levels balanced shift. Current resulting shade: 7, 6, 21, 0. Freckle proliferation continues smoothly. Final undertone adjustments shifting to cooler greens. Adipose redistribution proceeding as projected.

Eye Colour: Collagen fibre restructuring progression smoothly—blue scattering optimised. Resulting shade: 81, 56, 0,0.

Vision: Retinal photoreceptor enhancements. Night vision improving by 22%. Peripheral vision field expanded by 10 degrees. Acuity improved to 20/20. Target: 20/10.

Ears: Length increase at 35% of target. Cartilage softening for natural Wind sylvani flexibility. Directional sound filtering now possible.

Laryngeal Shift: Vocal cords continue thinning. Pitch variance increased. Current vocal range: 8.3 semitones higher. Resonance shift initiated—targeting Wind Sylvani tonal clarity.

Endocrine Modulation: Secondary androgenic sexual characteristics eliminated. Body shows initial response to oestrogenic dominance.

Neurological & Psychological Adjustments:

Cognitive-motor adaptation progressing. Increased fluidity in movement noted.

Identity Synchronization:

5a8a's self-perception is still aligned with target identity.

However, conscious mental resistance is observed.

Emotional hesitation remains a key inhibiting factor.

Recommended Measures:

- Encourage full sensory acclimation. Interaction with supportive environments will assist 5a8a in fully embracing new physicality.

- Increase exposure to affirming social reinforcement.

- Monitor subconscious resistance. Emotional barriers delaying full identity integration.

NOTE: Legal identity paperwork processed. Final approval pending. Psychological markers indicate near-total readiness. Observation suggests lingering self-doubt, but 5a8a is close. || We are nearly there. Endure this hurdle, my child, and you will know peace. – #SysAdminTerra:

Friday, August 29th, 2042, Capitol Hill, Seattle, Washington.

Emmy woke up to the sensation of her own breath catching in her throat, her pulse thrumming against her fingertips as she scratched an itch behind one of her ears. Her hair fanned over the pillow in messy waves. She pushed the strands away from her face, staring dumbfounded at their unusual length.

What…?

She kept absent-mindedly scratching until everything hit her all at once. The shape of her ears was not right; her ears were now longer and pointed. The hair she had just brushed away, and was still holding between her fingers, was green. Not the sandy blonde it should have been. A vibrant, unmistakable, green. Just like it had been in the game.

Nope! Nope, nope!

She clenched the sheets so hard her knuckles went white, squeezing her eyes shut as if she could will herself to unsee what she had just seen.

It's not happening. I'm just dreaming. Yeah, I'm in a dream… A very… plain dream where I wake up inside my cramped apartment, partially transformed into my video-game character… Just business as usual, right? It's not the first time I dream of waking up inside a body that fits.

She kept arguing with herself, trying to convince herself she was imagining all of this. Surely, this was all but a fragment of some fevered nightmare, where her deepest longing and her worst fears had intertwined and combined into something hideously impossible. Something she both longed for deeply, but knew she could not—should not—be allowed to have.

However, her entire nervous system conspired against her, and her brain kept receiving a stream of constant alerts and confused signals she simply could not ignore. Her bed sheets caressed her skin softly, in a way she had never felt before. Her limbs felt lighter and smaller. Every movement was sharper, freer in ways that her old body never had been. And the freckles dusted over her arms—there were more of them. Countless charming shining speckles, all scattered in constellations she had never seen in the mirror before.

Or, to be more accurate, she had never seen reflected upon any mirror in this world. Not from this body.

A quiet, shaking breath left her lips. "It actually happened."

The way she said the words made it clear it was a statement, not a question. She had to accept there was no way to rationalise this situation away anymore.

What now...? Well, I'm past the unskippable boss intro sequence now, I guess. So it's time to figure out how to beat this fight…

Emmy shoved the bedsheets all the way down to her knees and then sat bolt upright, her movements smoother and easier than they had been in decades. She then tucked some strands of hair behind one ear, her eyes scanning her bedroom lit by the morning sun. Again, something unexpected happened. She could see everything clearly in her apartment. Leaning to one side, she checked and, yes, her prescription glasses were still there on the nightstand next to the bed.

She picked them up and brought them closer to her eyes, but even at a distance, she saw the image distort. She recognised they were no longer adjusted properly.

Okay, Magical twenty/twenty vision? Apparently, they auto-enrolled me in the beta test for this complementary surprise DLC. Don't get me wrong, I love the perk, but maybe make registration opt-in next time?

Yesterday, she had gone to bed convinced she had not been one of the lucky—or unlucky—few players affected by the game's transformative powers. She had convinced herself she was not like them.

Soraya was the one who had shared the news about what was happening to Kaelyn—the healer in Emmy's party. The girl who had made the news thanks to her impossible transformation going public. The girl who, Emmy had learned thanks to the article, used to be a boy.

Not that it changes anything. Kaelyn, just like me, could have wished for this. Or, likewise, might wake up and absolutely freak out about losing any control over her life.

Thinking back, Emmy wondered if Kaelyn had known yesterday, throughout the day, what was happening to her. Nothing she had done in-game had hinted she was aware of it. She did not appear to be trying to figure out what was going on outside of the game. She had offered no resistance or pushback. No snarky "hey, by the way, something's going on outside of the game" comment.

Had Kaelyn really been in the dark as much as I was?

Emmy exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face.

Wow… Prime time news, huh? What a way to find out your body's not yours anymore. Was that why she had suddenly logged out yesterday? The timing lines up too well…

She could almost picture Kaelyn, disconnecting from the rig, surrounded by concerned family members, all drilling her about a transformation she had not even been aware of until they unplugged her.

Surprise! You're turning into your character! We all heard the news before you! Hope that's not too much of a breach of privacy or anything!

Emmy grimaced. "Ugh, I wonder how she's dealing with her own shit this morning."

She crossed her legs and adjusted her sitting position, pressing down on her legs with both elbows, thinking. Wondering about Kaelyn's fate would do Emmy no good, so she focused her attention back on her own situation.

Yesterday, she had told herself the game's unbelievable news—some players waking up changed—was a hoax. Or, at the very least, a one-in-a-million fluke. Basically, something other people experienced. Not something that would happen to her.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"One-in-a-million isn't zero-in-a-million," she said out loud, almost as if to train her ears to her new, unfamiliar voice. "If it happens to one person at random, then, logically, one of them could be me…"

One of Soraya's messages from yesterday came back to her mind. She had sent something along those lines. "I went over every inch of my body earlier. Couldn't see any changes here."

Had she been honest about wishing to turn into her petite dracan brute?

"Between the choice of being boring old me and being an ice-cool Kindred dracan in real life, there's really no contest!"

"Gah! I wish I could type something so wild, so outlandish, while keeping a straight face…"

Emmy had deftly avoided directly answering Soraya's later question. "What, are you telling me you wouldn't want to be Elyssia all the time?"

Yesterday morning, Emmy had not noticed any changes. She had not been looking for them, to be honest. After hearing the news and getting grilled by Soraya about it, she had told her how she was not changing, either. But now, she had to admit—she had not even bothered looking.

She chuckled when she realised, now that she was looking in hindsight, how she had actually noticed some changes. She had kept hitting things—the furniture was all the wrong size. Her prescription glasses had suddenly blurred, no longer properly adjusted for her eyes. Her facial hair had been partially gone, and she had noticed her hair longer than it should have been.

"It's not that I had not changed," she said, then sighed. "It's that I didn't even allow myself to see the changes."

Maybe it was because she knew to look, but today, the changes to her body were undeniable.

It would take some serious mental gymnastic to pretend I'm still Martin-Ethan at this point. Heck, it would probably be difficult to prove my identity.

"What would a fingerprints scan or DNA test say, now? Am I legally still myself? What if I get arrested…?"

Emmy felt her breath quicken. She forced herself to look, reaching for her phone on the nightstand. The screen still dark, and spotted her own reflection—a darkened, glassy silhouette against the black screen.

"Fuck… It's really happening, huh?" she asked her reflection. "Nah, worse—It happened. Past tense. And by all estimates, it's not over, not for two more days."

She pressed her fingers over her own lips, as if to stop herself from swearing. Her hands were shaking. It was a dream come true, and an absolute nightmare.

She had been so careful about maintaining the divide. Her characters, from other games? Just like Elyssia, they had been her, true—but she had confined them to escape, locked safely away where she belonged. In a world where she could exist on her own terms. Where things were not real. Just real enough.

"Guess I've completed the tutorial, and the developers have yeeted the training wheels?"

There was no closet deep enough to hide in anymore. There was no undoing this. Emmy swallowed hard and thumbed through her messages, landing on the last text she had sent Soraya. She reread it. "You'll be first to know."

She took a deep breath. "Had I actually meant what I wrote, or was that just to placate her?"

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a silent war raging in her mind. It would be so easy to turn off her phone. To pretend she could still salvage her normal life for just a few more hours.

But it would be a lie, and she was tired of lying. She had already spent too long lying—to Claire, her family, her friends. To the whole world. Even to herself.

She did not know Soraya very well, and Emmy wondered why she was choosing her to be the first to know. Was it because there was less to lose? Soraya had already shown enthusiasm at the idea of Emmy transforming. Or maybe it felt safe because she was neither a close friend nor family.

She clenched her jaw and forced her hands to move and typed the most challenging words she had ever typed. "They're pointy."

She stared at the words for a second too long before pressing send, and the message delivered instantly. She started at it for a moment, already regretting it. It was not shown as viewed, yet. Her stomach twisted.

"The message is still retractable," she breathed, the words comforting her like a security blanket. "So, what now? What the hell am I doing? What I am supposed to do next?"

None of her life plans had ever included something like this. Who plans for things like this?

"Plans? Pah." Emmy recalled the lesson she had tried to drill into Leoric's head. "Don't worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself."

Don't think. Feel.

"If my advice's good enough to give to Leoric, then it's good enough for me. So let's stop it with the idea of plans. It's time to act. I probably should stop agonising about what ifs."

Emmy pressed her knuckles against her mouth, biting down to keep her breath steady.

"So I'm half Elyssia now. Shit, I'm not ready for this..."

She glanced back at her phone, and moved her thumb over the power button, ready to shut everything off, to buy herself more time—but before she could, a notification appeared at the bottom of the app. "Maya is typing…"

Emmy gasped. "She knows. She has to know! Maya must have heard the news. The kids saw Elyssia during our call two days ago. Of course she's be worried about me."

She stared at the screen, waiting for the message. The notification blinked in and out, like Maya kept erasing and rephrasing herself.

"I'm so not ready for this… What the hell am I going to tell her?"

Her heart pounded as three little dots pulsed on the screen. She waited. And waited.

Then, the message appeared. "Hey, Dad… can we talk?"

It was such a simple question, but Emmy's stomach twisted. A simple question, but one filled with concern and flowing with love. Free of judgment, with no accusation. Just a simple question, using but three words.

"She's not giving me any hints whether or not she knows anything. This could be about anything else."

Emmy exhaled slowly, pressing her forehead into her palm. She had wanted to hide. To push this conversation away, maybe forever. But she could not do this. Not to her daughter. And right now, Emmy was torn by the battle raging inside her heart. What was going to win, truth, or safety?

"Maybe I can just log into my pod, start the workday. I can pretend I didn't get her message until the end of the day? That's one way to delay the problem. Avoidance. Just like I've done all my life so far? What a fucking amazing track record with I have using that tactic, by the way."

She closed her eyes and sighed. "…I'm overdue for a different strategy, I think."

Emmy's eyes drifted back to the screen, and they locked on one word on the phone: "Dad."

Maya had picked the word carefully. It actually made sense, for all it stung to read. After all, only two days ago, she had been the one asking both of her children to keep calling her that way, even when in Elyssia's body.

But today, for some reason, the word dug directly into her heart and then someone twisted the knife. She wiped tears running down both cheeks. A simple word, full of her daughter's love and the best intentions. So why did it have to hurt so much?

The three dots pulsed again. "Maya is typing…"

Emmy's fingers curled around the edge of her phone like it might slip out of her grasp. Like the moment itself might slip away if she did not anchor herself to something.

Then, another message: "Are you okay?"

Emmy smiled and nodded slowly, tears welling at the corner of her eyes..

And once more. Another simple, three word attack. Geez, she's level 1 at best, and I'm getting wrecked. I can't even block.

That was it? No jokes, no teasing, no awkward circling around the obvious? Just—concern? She squeezed her eyes shut. She could still ignore it. Pretend she never saw it. Drop her phone onto the nightstand, bury herself under the covers, and deal with it later. Or never.

But Maya was probably sitting, waiting and watching her phone.

Emmy swallowed the lump in her throat and let her thumbs move. "I… I don't know."

A sloppy response, far from a frame-perfect guard and counter-attack.

… It had been the best she could do.

The message sent, and Emmy instantly regretted it. It felt far too honest, raw, and real. Children needed their parents to be stronger than that.

I could have lied. Said I was fine. Maybe I should have.

But Maya responded almost immediately. "Yeah. I figured."

No judgment. No sarcasm. Just… understanding.

Three words again. Disarming me effortlessly, and she's not even trying to fight me. Just saying three words at a time, dealing unavoidable damage. Is this what it feels like to lose to a tutorial NPC?

Emmy exhaled slowly, running a hand over her face. She stared at the phone screen, at the little glowing chat bubble that contained more kindness than she had allowed herself to hope for.

The silence stretched for a moment. Then another message appeared. "Can I call?"

Panic punched through Emmy's gut. A call?

No, no, no! No way!

She was not ready for this. Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard. What would she even say? She sounded nothing like herself anymore. If Maya was thinking of something else, then the sound of her father's voice would instantly reveal what was happening.

Pandora's box, once opened, cannot ever be closed again.

What if… what if this moment, this tentative thread of connection, broke?

She should say no. Say she was busy. Say something—anything! But despite that, she texted her agreement. "Yeah. Okay."

What the hell am I doing?

The call came in seconds later. Emmy hesitated just long enough to make herself hate it, then she put the call on loudspeaker.

Maya's voice filled the quiet space of the apartment. Soft. Careful. "…Hey, Dad…?" She paused for a beat, and then, gentler—probing, she continued. "…Or is it Ely now?"

Emmy sucked in a sharp breath. "Maya—" Her own voice alarmed her. It sounded… wrong. If it had been Elyssia's voice, it would have sounded right, she thought. If it had been Emmy's? For all she hated it, it had been hers for so long. But this broken, panicked voice? It was neither of those. But it was hers.

Maya waited patiently. She did not fill the silence with questions or assumptions. She just waited. Emmy licked her lips, her throat dry. It was too much. Too much kindness. Too much patience.

I don't deserve an awesome daughter like her.

"…I don't know," Emmy admitted, barely above a whisper. "I—Maya, I don't know what's happening."

She expected the doubt, the skepticism. She expected Maya to say, "Isn't it obvious? Just open your eyes!" She expected the sharpness of Claire, the exhaustion of someone who had already made up their mind about what was real.

But Maya let out a sigh. "Well, that answers that. And, yeah. I kinda figured that, too."

That did it. Emmy's chest cracked. She clenched her jaw, eyes burning, throat tight with the weight of something too big to keep inside.

Maya had figured it out. She had guessed and yet, she was still here, still wanted to talk. She still cared.

Emmy pressed the heel of her palm to her forehead, trying to get herself under control. "… Does Mom know?"

A pause. Then Maya answered with a simple "No."

The relief hit so hard she nearly collapsed.

"She's been too busy with work and—" Maya hesitated. "She didn't believe the news when they it aired yesterday. Said it's all made up. That people are doing this to trick us into helping them."

Of course, she'd think it's all part of some sinister plot. A substantial part of Claire's job was to prove someone was lying. It's second nature for her to imagine ulterior motives.

This was entirely on brand for Claire, Emmy thought. To her, none of those transformations reported on the news was real. Or at least—she refused to admit they were real.

Which meant Emmy had time. Not much, but… a little.

Her breath shuddered out. "…Okay."

Maya's voice softened. "Hey… I know this is a lot. But—" She hesitated, then exhaled. "You're not alone, okay?"

Emmy's throat closed. She forced her mouth shut. If she tried to speak, the dam would break, and she was sure she would break into sobs.

Maya must have known, because she did not push. She just waited a few seconds, then said, "You have time. You don't have to figure everything out today."

The words hit. Emmy swallowed hard. "I—" Her voice cracked. She took a second to gather herself. "Thanks, Maya."

Maya waited one second, two seconds… "I love you, Dad."

Emmy pressed her fist against her mouth to stop the broken sound that tried to escape.

A second passed before she whispered, softer than she meant to, "I love you too, puppet."

Maya let it sit there, let it be real, before she finally said, "Are you going to go to work today despite it all? You sound wrecked."

A nervous laugh escaped Emmy before she could stop it. "Yeah. Can't afford not to."

"Text me later?"

Emmy hated the idea of hanging up. They had barely said anything. Used so few words. "…Yeah. I will. Promise."

She never directly asked me. Never forced me to say anything.

Emmy wanted to shout her truth, to say something—anything—so their call would not end. But then Maya spoke, "Talk to you soon, Ely."

And before Emmy could even process the name, before she could recoil or reject or even whisper back, her daughter ended the call. Then the silence of the room swallowed her whole.

For the first time in years, Emmy realised it was not an oppressive silence. She was not suffocating or fighting her inner demons. She simply sat there, staring at the darkened screen of her phone, breathing. Tranquil.

She ran her fingers across her new features. Pointed ears. Green hair. Freckles. This? This might not be a nightmare, after all. She had her daughter on her side.

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