Translator:	Author:	Original Source:
MJCross	Cat’s Glasses	SFACG

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It was already past seven, and with the air conditioner steadily pumping out cool air, the room had finally reached a comfortable temperature.

Zhao Zhao, after failing to persuade me through both sweet talk and passive-aggressive sulking, was visibly displeased.

He sat cross-legged on the floor, pouting like I’d just done him dirty.

“Commander, just give me a chance.”

“A chance for what?”

“I never had a choice before, but now, I want to be a girl.”

“Great. Go talk to Haitang about it, see if she lets you.”

“That’d be a death sentence.”

“Sorry, I’m the God of Bishoujo (Apprentice), not some grim reaper.”

This guy was willing to throw away his masculinity for the sake of his pervy ambitions.

What kind of revolutionary martyr complex was this?

I picked up the black-covered Bishoujo Notebook and slid off my computer chair, plopping onto the soft carpet in front of Zhao Zhao.

He looked at me with eager anticipation—only for his hopes to be utterly crushed when I didn’t write down his name.

“You do remember that I’m basically a god now, right?”

He nodded silently.

I’d previously explained the notebook’s mechanics to him.

“If I don’t pass my assessment, I’ll be hit with divine punishment—or worse, I might even die. Considering that, shouldn’t your priority be helping your brother in arms survive before indulging your own desires?”

This was precisely why I wasn’t granting his wish to become Zhao Lei just yet.

As a god—apprentice or not—I had a duty to bring hope to the truly unfortunate.

Meanwhile, all Zhao Zhao wanted was to use the notebook for his own depraved schemes.

If I took all the risks while he reaped all the benefits, of course I’d be pissed.

“So, you want me to help you with your assessment first?”

“Wow, you caught on fast. That really helps.”

“Then why don’t you just write down Old Feng’s name already? You dug into his past today to confirm whether he was a good target, didn’t you?”

If only it were that simple.

According to that ‘godly’ con artist Hallelujah, there was one major condition: the target had to willingly accept their new identity.

Even with this reality-bending notebook in my hands, not everyone would be okay with suddenly becoming a girl.

To gauge their mindset, I’d need some level of direct interaction—but at the same time, I had to keep my divine apprentice status and the notebook’s existence a secret.

If I got caught, I wasn’t just looking at government detainment; I might end up on an SCP watchlist.

After I explained all this, Zhao Zhao stroked his chin, lost in thought.

Then again, considering his brain was made up of 50% muscle and 50% degeneracy, I wasn’t expecting much.

If we were in a spy movie, he’d die in episode one. …I’d at least make it to episode three.

“So basically, you need to figure out if Old Feng would accept being a woman, all while keeping your identity hidden and avoiding suspicion?”

“That about sums it up. This notebook could literally reshape the world—if it got exposed, I’d be done. I’m not interested in taking on the government or some secret organization. Not that I could.”

“Would the transformation remove physical disabilities?”

“While I don’t have a definite answer, I think it would. Based on how Tangerine transformed, the process seems more like rolling a lump of clay into a ball and reshaping it from scratch.”

Honestly, the sight of that pulsating mass of flesh definitely gave me PTSD.

If Saya no Uta ever got a live adaptation, that scene would fit right in.

“In that case, just use a pencil to write Old Feng’s name first. Instead of beating around the bush trying to analyze his thoughts, why not just let him experience it firsthand?”

That blunt, straightforward approach was classic Zhao Zhao.

It sounded reasonable, but there were logistical issues.

“First, we don’t know where Old Feng lives or when he gets home. His schedule isn’t like ours. If he transforms in public, it definitely will not end well.”

If I somehow managed to escape, Old Feng would still end up in a lab, dissected for science.

Forget happiness—he’d be lucky to survive.

“That’s easy. We’ve got the whole summer break. Just tail him for a whole day and figure it out.”

“You say that like it’s nothing. You’re 1.9m tall, dude. It’s impossible for you to tail anyone discreetly. Street poles only cover half your body. Plus, Old Feng knows our faces.”

“I can’t do it—but Zhao Lei can.”

That offhand remark was like a thermite charge, blasting open a new path in my mind.

Dropping Zhao Lei onto the board was a masterstroke.

The perfect pawn for a clandestine operation.

Retracting my earlier statement—Zhao Zhao might survive five episodes in a spy drama.

Slapping my thigh, I jumped to my feet.

“You’re right! Since Zhao Lei technically doesn’t exist, she has way more freedom. And following that logic, the second issue solves itself! Instead of figuring out how to ask him without raising suspicion, we’ll just let Zhao Lei handle the investigation!”

Puffing out his chest, Zhao Zhao smirked.

“Leave it to me!”

Just like that, Zhao Zhao—no, Zhao Lei—was now responsible for nearly every crucial step of the operation.

She had basically become my divine agent. Considering how utterly useless my god (apprentice) status was, the hierarchy here felt less like “god and disciple” and more like “God and Jesus.”

By the time we finished hashing out our strategy, it was already close to eight.

Somewhere along the way, we got way too into it and ended up crafting an elaborate, overly dramatic battle plan.

“This plan is absolutely flawless, My Lord!”

Zhao Zhao was practically giddy, probably because he was starring in the whole thing.

Whether it worked would all depend on his acting skills.

“Flawless? More like pure snake oil.”

I waved him off.

“And don’t call me ‘My Lord.’ That title definitely is not fitting for some bogus apprentice like me. I don’t even have any special abilities beyond this notebook.”

“Just having that notebook is god-tier! If I were the one who found it, I’d turn every man on Earth into a bishoujo! I’d be the last man standing—the true Harem King!”

“You’d just end up locked away as breeding stock, and the human race would go extinct.”

Also, this notebook wasn’t anything big enough to fit that many names.

“By the way, isn’t it getting late? Shouldn’t you be heading home?”

Zhao Zhao’s family was strict—brutally so.

He’d taken plenty of beatings from his mom over the years.

According to my dad, in his generation, Zhao Zhao’s mom was basically what Haitang was to us—the original Empress of the Village.

Back then, nobody had nice houses or video games, so kids were feral.

Yet somehow, his mom had ruled that chaotic era through sheer brute force.

Honestly, she probably outclassed even Haitang in combat power.

So now I really had to wonder—where the hell was he even hiding those two sets of stolen girl’s uniforms?

If he kept them at home, I’d probably be looking at his obituary by now.

The moment I reminded him, Zhao Zhao visibly shuddered.