HeTrOS Daily Transformation Report, August 29th, 2042:

Subject: 56e7fc5e-17c4-4fb2-8a9c-71957331c821 (herein after "c821"), aka Sophie Kim.

Target Identity: Leoric Stargazer

Transformation Progress: 50% integration threshold reached.

Physical Adjustments:

Height: Increased by two and a half inches thanks to cartilage expansion and skeletal elongation.

Weight: Increased by seven and a half pound from muscular hypertrophy.

Hair: Length unchanged. However, melanin redistribution has initiated a progressive desaturation and tonal shift toward target phenotype. Current shade: Base 63, 65, 71, 72, Highlights 45, 49, 75, 22.

Muscle Mass: Focus on quadriceps, hamstrings, gastrocnemius, deltoids enhancement, with noticeable Type I & Type II fibre optimisation favouring a high endurance-to-strength ratio.

Skin Colour: Increased eumelanin-to-pheomelanin ratio causing a gradual pigmentation shift. Current shade: 18, 36, 59, 1.

Eye Colour: Minor adjustments detected in rod/cone sensitivity, suggesting low-light adaptation potential. Pigmentation shift results in burnt umber intermediate. Current shade: 52, 67, 78, 63.

Secondary Sexual Characteristics: Androgenic restructuring at 50% completion; suppression of oestrogenic expression proceeding as projected. Follicular density increasing. Vellus-to-terminal conversion rate accelerating in line with target's genetic baseline. No abnormal hair growth patterns detected.

Distinctive Features:

Leporidae Auricular Growth: Auricular structures have emerged, measuring 3 inches. Increased mechanoreceptor density, resulting in enhanced environmental sensitivity. Vestigial human ear completed resorption.

Laryngeal Morphology: Incremental laryngeal prominence expansion detected. Vocal timbre trending toward broader resonance range. Estimated 25-30% shift from baseline frequency, expected to stabilise within Phase III.

Neuromuscular Adaptation: Increased proprioceptive response in lower extremities, indicating enhanced kinaesthetic calibration.

Cognitive & Neurological Observations: Subject's mental compatibility between c821 and target identity continues to be phenomenal. The transformation is initially unlikely to cause distress in the subject.

Final Status:

- Continue transformation at the current rate. No destabilising anomalies detected. NOTE || Of course everything's going smoothly. Who do you think I am? — #SysAdminZephyra

Friday, August 29th, 2042, Melanie Kim's home, Guildford, Surrey, Canada.

Something gnawed at her before consciousness could. A hollow ache—not sharp, but persistent—tightened low in her belly, demanding attention. Sophie opened her eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling and for a brief, disoriented moment, she lay still—just stared, the soft blur of early morning light filtering through the blinds casting shifting patterns across the pale off-white paint. The pillow beneath her head was not hers, and neither were the sheets covering her body.

She glared at the ceiling, her gaze unwavering, as if the paint itself held a secret she could unlock through sheer force of will and prolonged, intense scrutiny. Or maybe she was just not ready for today, yet.

Her stomach gave a quiet growl in protest. She closed her eyes, breathed in, then exhaled slowly. Everything had come back to her—she was in Melanie's guest bedroom.

The memories had rushed back like a tide—last night's conversation during and after the drive, the too-long talk about the news of how she was physically changing into her avatar, and what it meant for her, and for her family. After many cups of tea over conversations that went nowhere, Melanie and Sophie had agreed to call it for the night and continue talking tomorrow. At least Sophie had won one concession—they had not informed their parents about her transformation yet.

Before going to bed, Sophie had thrown her clothes on the guest room's floor; she did not expect them to survive another sudden growth spurt. Exhausted from the day's events, she had fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

And now? It was morning. Soon, it would be time to face her new, albeit transitory, reality.

She took a slow breath, immediately aware of the way her chest rose and fell. Different. Her limbs felt heavier, her centre of balance subtly shifted. The sheets pooled lower over her bust than she was used to. The air, cool against her skin, registered in ways her body had not before.

She brought one hand in front of her face and flexed her fingers. Larger hands. Longer fingers. As her joints snapped, she felt the ears at the top of her head twitch and shift.

Oh…

She gingerly brought the same hand closer and closer to the pillow, dreading the inevitable. She paused before she reached them and closed her eyes. Sophie took a moment to process what it meant.

She had burrovian ears on the top of her head. And she was in the real world.

She slowly—very slowly—kept moving the hand closer to where she knew she would find the protrusions.

When she finally made contact, her ear twitched reflexively, which both amused and annoyed her. Centring herself, she prodded at her ear until she had a good idea of the size.

They were only about three inches tall so far.

I can't believe I'm saying 'only three inches' about my ears with a straight face.… Anyway, I think I made them nine inches long at creation. I've still got a lot of growth ahead of me.

Sophie chuckled, throat rough from sleep, and noted another change—her voice was lower. Not deep, not quite the rumbling baritone she knew Leoric had, but this voice was no longer Sophie's. Somewhere between.

Halfway. If that reporter and her technicians were right, today marked the exact midpoint.

Inside her mind, the number clicked into place. She let out a long exhale, dragging her hand down her face.

It's happening fast.

Her mind should have been racing, should have been panicking. But, instead, she just… let the thought settle. She was neither scared nor upset. After all, she was still herself. It was the only thing she could trust.

Cogito ergo sum.

Herself, however, was almost an abstract concept, and at that moment, she was neither Sophie nor Leoric. She would have to figure out who she was, then.

Her hands lowered, fingers absently brushing her collarbone. Her sharper, broader collarbone.

A masculine one. "…Hah."

The sound escaped her mouth before she could stop it, amusement flickering beneath the strangeness of it all.

Guess I really am turning into him. But I'm not there yet.

Her mind flicked back to her meeting with Hana yesterday. She still wondered who the barista had seen when she looked at her. She had seen a model. But was that Sophie, or Leoric?

Neither, actually. The Lee she had seen was the product of her imagination—a person who only existed within her own perceived reality.

She turned the name over in her head, and, without thinking, she whispered it out loud, as if she was testing it. "…Lee."

It settled in like a key sliding into a lock. She was not Sophie anymore. But Lee was an entirely new person. An identity someone had offered him, whether by accident or by fate, and was now just waiting to be claimed.

Maybe for today I can roll with it?

Lee exhaled and finally sat up, immediately noticing the difference in how his body felt. His balance had shifted—not dramatically, but noticeably.

The sheets slipped down his shoulders, revealing an immaculate chest, flat pectorals, and toned abs.

Already looking like a bishounen protagonist, huh?

He was glad the sheets had pooled around his waist, because he was not ready to inspect that far. Not right now.

He experimented, moving one arm and examining it from every angle. It felt heavier, like his limbs had been stretched and re-proportioned. The other hand gripped firmly at the mattress, holding the bedsheets in place. His fingers curled in a vice grip—thicker, longer than before.

His legs shifted beneath him, brushing against the fabric. There was more muscle there, more length. His thighs—his hips—felt different in ways he could not quite define yet, but sitting up felt new, like his body was adjusting to itself in real-time.

Lee swung his legs over the side of the bed, bracing himself for the shift in perspective. With a dull thunk, his feet hit the hardwood floor moments before his brain expected, and he sucked in a breath. Standing up felt good. He felt strong and stable. This all felt right.

Once he had secured the bedsheet as a makeshift skirt, he moved to the adjoined bathroom. He flipped the light switch on and met his own gaze in the mirror.

At first, he just stared, perfectly still.

He had braced himself for a difference, but the person staring back was almost a stranger. Leoric himself was an androgynous beauty, so this unexpected stop, right in between? No term suited him better than demiboy, he instantly admitted.

His jawline was sharper, but not quite angular. The rest of his features were more defined, losing the softer roundness he had once had. His eyes—still the same, still familiar—felt different only because of the face surrounding them. As for the ears…

God. The ears.

Three inches tall, short and downy, resting in a slightly awkward, half-grown state at the top of his head. One twitched involuntarily, and Lee grimaced.

So that's going to be a thing now.

He reached up, touching the base where human ears should have been. The skin was smooth—nothing. No sign they had ever been there. Just the new ones, perched atop his head like they had always belonged.

He rubbed a hand down his face, letting out a slow breath. "Well… this is a lot." His voice sounded like it would be right at home in a K-pop boy band.

Lee inhaled deeply and turned sideways, examining his reflection. He ran a hand down his torso, feeling the muscles beneath the skin. His frame was broader, his posture instinctively more relaxed. His waist had narrowed slightly, his hips losing some of their old shape. And this was just fifty percent. The changes had only just begun.

Two days in. Two more to go. He watched himself in the mirror, tilting his head, neither panicking nor in distress.

This is… fine.

He gripped the edge of the sink with one hand for a long moment. Then he grinned at his reflection, ears twitching as he muttered, "Bun matin to me, I guess."

He relaxed his grip and looked up. Stuck by inspiration, Lee took a pose and, trying to imitate a k-Pop star's gusto, mock-introduced himself, lowering his voice to a seductive tone, intentionally, playfully. "Hey there, I'm Lee Kim, He/Him."

He nearly choked in fits of laughter at how corny it had sounded.

Yeah. I can work with that.

He stared at himself in the mirror. He sounded corny just then, but… it also had been kind of hot?

Lee was still starting at himself, half-fascinated—when his ears twitched at the sound of his sister's footsteps approaching. She was still out of sight, but he could tell she had just stepped inside his bedroom now.

"Oh, my God. Were you just flirting with yourself in the mirror?" she asked, laughing.

Oh God, of course she had heard that.

"NO."

Melanie stopped a few steps away from the bathroom door.

She's always been very considerate.

"Liar. I knew you'd start feeling yourself, eventually, but this is even faster than I had expected! Are you as hot as your avatar? You sound different, Sophie."

He cringed. Not at the accusation, but at the name she had used.

Sis, you really have no filter…

Lee felt his cheeks burning; he wanted to shout back angrily, but all he managed was a weak comeback. "... Shut up." He let out a sigh, and leaned back against the counter, watching the door frame. "Morning to you too, Mel," he said, trying to change the subject. "You can come in. I'm decent. Oh, and Sophie might not really work anymore."

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Speaking an entire sentence, hearing his voice again, threw him off—it was lower, weightier—but he kind of liked the sound of it.

Melanie took a few steps, just enough to peer inside. Her hair was a mess of loose waves, her silk robe barely tied as if she had dragged herself out of bed just minutes ago, lured by the sound of his voice. She got a good look at him. "... Hol."

Lee huffed a laugh. "Yeah. You're looking great, too."

Melanie blinked, her sleepiness vanishing in real-time as she stepped fully into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. "Okay, wow. You were already taller last night, but now—Jesus, Soph. I mean… Should I call you Lee? That's what you just called yourself?"

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Thinking of rolling with that for now."

Her eyes flicked up. Straight to the ears. Her face broke into a grin.

Lee groaned. "Oh no. Don't!"

"Don't what?"

"Whatever you're about to say, just don't. I don't want to hear it."

Melanie pressed her lips together hard, physically vibrating with the effort of holding back a comment.

"You're trying so hard right now," Lee muttered, crossing his arms.

"I really am," she said. "You're not making it easy."

The amused glint in her eyes softened as she scanned him properly. She took in the broader shoulders, the changes to his face, the way he held himself now. Melanie composed herself. "How are you feeling?" she asked at last, voice quieter.

Lee turned around, facing the mirror, and met the gaze of her reflection. "Surprisingly fine."

Lee's sister exhaled, shaking her head. "I don't get you. You should be freaking out. This is crazy. This is—" She gestured vaguely at his entire form. "And you're just standing here like it's another day, no big deal?"

He shrugged. "Would it help if I freaked out?"

She nodded, eagerly. "A little, yeah, actually."

Lee chuckled. "Sorry to disappoint."

Melanie rolled her eyes, but concern was still plain on her face. "It's only day two, Lee. Two out of four. You know what's coming, right?"

Lee shrugged. "Yeah. In two days, I'll be six-foot-four with fluffy ears."

"Lee."

"Mel?"

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "At least tell me you're gonna call Appa and Eomma today."

Lee stiffened, crossing his arms tighter. "Unlikely."

"Lee—"

"Mel," he cut in, voice firm. "You want me to call them so they can grieve me while I'm still standing right here, in front of you? Do you realise how that would make me feel?"

Melanie opened her mouth and then closed it without a word.

Lee shook his head. "I'm still here, Mel. I don't want to sit through some drawn-out funeral while I'm still breathing. And I don't want them to think of me like I'm dying."

"But they'll find out eventually."

"Yeah," he admitted. "Just… not today. Once it's over, and there's no reason to try to find a cure or a way to slow this down."

Melanie studied him for a long moment, frustration warring with understanding. "Why?"

Lee remained silent, his intense gaze his only reply. Finally, she let out a slow breath. "Fine. But we have to tell them once it's all over."

"Sure. We'll do it then. Probably."

"That's not a yes."

He raised his shoulders. "Maybe is the best you're gonna get."

Melanie groaned, but let it drop.

She planted both hands on her hips and scanned him from head to toe again. "So. Clothes?"

Lee looked down at the bedsheets. "Oh yeah. This situation is dire."

"You mean tragic."

"I mean catastrophic."

Melanie smirked and gestured toward a pile of clothes on the edge of the bed. "I brought you some stuff. Shane keeps leaving some clothes behind, and I washed those recently. Hopefully, some of it will fit you. I don't think any of your old stuff would. You're almost six feet tall now. And those shoulders…"

Lee leaned past the doorframe at the bed, eyeing the pile. Some grey boxers and a soft, worn-in long-sleeved green shirt sat on top—plain but high-quality fabric—and beneath it, a pair of fitted jeans that looked like they would actually be comfortable.

And at the bottom? A big, comfy-looking hoodie—a really nice one.

He squeezed past his sister. Lee fished it from the bottom of the pile and held it up, examining the heavy fabric. It was deep navy, well-tailored, and structured—this was designer. It was not a plain hoodie, it probably cost more than some people's entire wardrobe.

He spun around, one arched eyebrow. "Your boyfriend's got expensive taste."

Melanie shrugged. "Perks of working in fashion? We rarely pay the MSRP as members of the industry, you know."

"And he just leaves this stuff lying around?"

Mel rolled her eyes. "Look, I told him to pick it up. Not my fault he didn't. It's your lucky day."

Oh, Mel, I swear, if you make a lucky bunny joke…

Lee took the pile into the bathroom. "Well, if you'll excuse me," he said, gently nudging Melanie out. He shut the door behind her.

On the other side, his sister laughed. "Ahh, I don't get a free show?"

"I get you're curious, but we're still siblings. Absolutely no freebies."

Lee pulled on the long-sleeved shirt first. The fabric settled perfectly against his frame—just loose enough to be comfortable, but not baggy. He rolled up the sleeves, as they were just a touch too long for him.

Then came the boxers. Lee sighed in relief he would not have to go commando. The jeans followed next, sliding on without issue. Then he slipped inside the hoodie effortlessly.

Oh yeah. This feels right.

He turned toward the mirror again, staring at the reflection.

Gone was the awkward, ill-fitting mix of Sophie's clothes on a body that no longer fit them. Instead, what stared back at him looked effortlessly cool.

He opened the door, silently inviting Melanie to pass judgment.

She watched him from beside the bed, one hand on her hip, lips pursed in quiet evaluation.

Lee stepped out and paraded forward as if the bedroom were his own private runway. Once he reached the foot of the bed, he turned around with a flourish. Then he crossed his arms, tilted his head, and waited for Melanie to answer. "So?"

She tapped a manicured finger against her chin. "You're like a pro."

"Mel."

"I'm just saying," she said slowly, way too amused, "you're good at this. Ever thought of a modelling career?"

Lee glanced down at himself. The clothes suited him—simple, relaxed, just enough style to look intentional without trying.

Melanie's gaze sharpened, her designer instincts kicking in. "You know, once you hit six-four, we might have to enrol you—"

Lee groaned. "Don't even start."

"What? I'm just thinking. A fresh new look, a bit of branding, and maybe—"

He shook his head, exhaling slowly through his nose. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "First Hana mentions modelling, now you."

Melanie paused mid-thought. "Wait, who's Hana?"

Lee hesitated just long enough for Melanie's grin to light up like a goddamn Christmas tree.

"Just a barista at the Second Cup near my place," he said, far too casually.

Melanie's eyes sparkled. "Just a barista, but somehow, you call her by her first name, huh? And she somehow suggested you try modelling? Has that comment lived rent-free in your head since then?" She folded her arms, looking way too entertained. "Didn't think you'd rebound off Daniel so fast. And for a girl, too? Oh, I'd love to see how he'd react to that! Give me the details! Big sister demands to know!"

Lee groaned, pulling the hood down to cover his face. "We are not doing this."

Melanie cackled. "Oh, we so are."

"Fine, fine. But if you want to drill me for deets, you'll have to feed me; I am starving."

But instead of laughing it off, Melanie assessed Lee seriously. "Makes sense. You don't grow five inches in two days and build that much muscle out of nothing. Your body probably used up a ton of energy and will need a refill of protein; lots of it. So hop in the shower while I see what I can cook up for you."

Oh, a shower? I guess I'll have to, someday.

Melanie gestured, brushing him away with both hands and shooed him back in the bathroom before leaving the guest bedroom herself.

Lee walked back inside and stopped before the mirror, full of apprehension. He watched his reflection, trying to convince himself to just do it.

It's just a shower. I've had thousands of those in my life.

But this time would be the first as Lee.

He exhaled slowly and rolled his shoulders.

Don't make a mountain out of a molehill. It's no biggie. Just wash up, then throw Shane's clothes back on, and get breakfast. Easy.

Still clothed, he opened the door to the shower, reached for the faucet, twisting it to the max. He closed the door and waited until steam started curling up from the spray. The warmth quickly fogged up the glass, softening the sharp new lines of his face until his reflection was nothing but a shadow behind the condensation.

That would help.

Lee peeled off the hoodie first, then the long-sleeved shirt, watching the fabric slip over his arms, revealing the body he was still getting used to. The toned muscles, the broadening chest felt like it belonged to him, but still carried the weight of something borrowed.

He hesitated again before stepping into the shower. But when he stepped inside, the water hit his skin like a slow realisation.

This is real. This is me.

Until now, he could have passed all of this as a dream, or a nightmare. But the moment the scalding water starting running down his skin, and his nerves signalled his brain, he knew it had to be true.

For a moment, Lee just stood there, letting the heat soak into his shoulders, feeling the way his new frame carried the tension differently.

The changes were subtle, but he felt them in every motion—the way the water ran over sharper angles, the way his arms naturally rested at his sides instead of crossing instinctively over his chest.

He reached up, running a hand through his damp hair, fingers accidentally brushing over the base of his ears. A sharp jolt ran through him as they twitched under the sensation.

"Someday, I'll actually remember they're there." Feeling them, after all, was still an intensely new thing.

Lee chuckled to himself, shaking his head, then reached for the shampoo.

As he lathered, he found himself humming absently—one of Neo Pulse's song, nothing important—until he caught the tone of his own voice.

It was so close to Jae-min's. But it made sense; he had picked Leoric's voice to match the lead singer.

He swallowed, letting the realisation settle in with the heat of the water.

I hope Sis didn't hear that.

After rinsing the shampoo off, he took the bottle of body wash and thoroughly cleaned himself, giving him plenty of time to familiarise himself with his new muscle definition and the texture of his skin.

Once he finished scrubbing himself with the exfoliating bath sponge, he shut the water off. He gingerly left the shower stall, his body complaining at the sudden chill, and he promptly rubbed himself dry with in a towel.

He wiped the fog off the mirror with the towel and ran it over his face. He caught himself smiling in the mirror—just a little. Seeing his reflection still brought forth an unexpected wave of euphoria, and he felt his heartbeat quicken.

Wait, is that normal? Do people normally just smile at their own reflection?

He frowned and stared at his drenched hair.

Have to deal with that mess first.

He bent down, checking the drawers and cabinet doors one by one until he found what he had been looking for; a hair dryer. Italian-make, a fancy model. Probably worth as much as a few computer monitors. He plugged it in and reached for a brush, getting ready for the familiar and lengthy process of brushing, detangling, and drying his long hair. Long hair was one thing both he and Sophie had in common, so he was used to the routine.

He turned the hair dryer on and immediately winced in pain at the sudden noise. Of course, his very sensitive bunny ears would resonate painfully with the loud noise.

I'll have to do some search online to find some particularly quiet models..

He lowered his arm, adjusting the angle from which he held the hair dryer, trying to distance the device from his ears as much as he could.

Makes me think I'll have to be careful as I brush up there, too.

As he worked, he noticed the new, much lighter hair colour he now sported compared to what he used to have. The realisation startled him.

Why is hair follicle changing colour the part I'm surprised about? Out of all the impossible changes happening to me, this is the most insignificant one to focus on.

He shook his head in disbelief at whatever mix of magic or science was responsible for his transformation. Still, the thought caused a question to surface once more. Had the game done something to him, to make him okay with this, or was this all him?

Melanie was right—most people would probably freak out. Emotionally, Lee understood this. But rationally, he wondered why.

I made Leoric into someone I wish I could be. Why would I panic if that's what I'm becoming?

He tried to imagine how others would react if they were in his shoes. Were others, unlike him, somehow strongly attached to their appearance and gender?

Instead of trying to figure out how random bystanders would react, he tried with people he knew. Would Elyssia and Vaelith—if this happened to them too—roll with it, or would they freak out, like Mel?

But before he could guess at their reaction, his question surfaced an even more pressing one. Had this happened to all four of them, and not just Kaelyn and him?

How would his three party members react? Was he alone in the way he simply shrugged it off like water off a duck's back?

None of his party members were human—homini—to use the game term.

Elyssia probably had the smallest amount of changes. Turning into a green-haired girl with pointy ears should be the easiest of all transformations. Well, assuming her player was a woman, and less than five feet tall.

Okay, so maybe even Elyssia's change could be a big deal.

Vaelith would probably have it the hardest. Dracan scales, fins, tail. Barely above four feet tall. No matter what she looked like in the real world, Lee could only imagine how challenging her transformation would be.

I hope she's doing okay. The girl, with her kind heart and bright spirit, deserves all the wonderful things life has to offer.

As for Kaelyn's player? He was undergoing a sudden, unexpected gender transition, courtesy of a video game. The felinae ears growth would mirror his burrovian ears. Getting used to having a tail was one thing she would have in common with Vaelith, assuming the dracan was also transforming.

Still, Kaelyn was, in many ways, a mirror of Lee's transformation. Talking to him—her?—might provide valuable reassurance whether or not his mind was being altered.

I guess I'll try to check with Kaelyn when I log on next. If she ever logs back in, that is.

Lee turned off the hair dryer. He patted his hair for any sign of dampness with his free hand. Satisfied with his work, he returned the appliance to the cabinet where he had found it.

He picked up all the clothes he had thrown on the ground and dressed himself again. Instead of slipping it on, this time, he opted to just keet the hoodie tied at his waist.

Lee padded barefoot into the kitchen, rolling back the sleeves of his shirt. The apartment smelled like fried meat, eggs, and coffee, a mix of childhood nostalgia and just enough laziness to make it feel normal.

Melanie stood by the stove, hair still a little messy, flipping an egg with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times before. "Finally dragged your ass out of the shower, huh?" she said without turning.

Lee yawned, sitting himself on a stool at the island. "Had to make sure I didn't grow a tail overnight."

Melanie snorted. "Uh, huh? One tail, or do you mean two? Well, I get it, I think. Showering as a hunk of a bunny boy must be quite the trip."

She slid a plate in front of him—rice topped with two fried eggs, several slices of Spam, a dish of kimchi, and a small plate of freshly sliced cheese.

Lee face-palmed. "And that's my cue to leave this conversation forever."

He pulled the hand away and took a long look at the plate in front of him. He reached for the chopsticks without thinking, but the moment he tried to pick them up, they felt… wrong. Smaller. Too light. His fingers had to adjust, grip recalibrating around them. The shift in size was a small one, but it was just enough to be off.

He frowned, rolling them between his fingers. Had his hands really changed that much?

He looked up from the plate and grinned at his sister. "Went low-effort today, huh?"

"It's a weekday. You want a full spread? You cook it yourself."

Lee raised a piece of Spam and nodded his thanks. "Bun apétit!"

Mel raised an eyebrow, confused. But seeing Lee's shit-face grin as he chewed, she groaned, having figured out the horrible pun.

Meanwhile, Lee scarfed down some more food. He had not even realised just how hungry he was until the first bite of rice and egg hit his system, warm and comforting.

Holy hell, I needed that!

Melanie raised an eyebrow as he shovelled another bite in. "Damn, you good?"

Lee paused, mid-chew. Realising he was way hungrier than usual. His body had changed fast—of course, it needed fuel. He forced himself to slow down, swallowing before answering. "Yeah. But I wonder if that'll be enough to sate me…"

Melanie took a sip of her Maxim coffee. "Great. So now you're turning into one of those guys who eats four meals a day and still complains about being hungry."

Lee smirked. "Just another thing I have in common with Shane, huh? At least I have a good excuse. I'm a growing boy, after all."

Melanie kicked his shin under the table. "Shut up and eat."

They ate in comfortable silence for a bit, the only sounds being the occasional clink of chopsticks against ceramic.

Then Melanie, with zero warning, casually said: "So. When are you seeing Hana again?"

Lee choked on his rice. "Jesus Christ, Mel."

She smirked, taking another sip of coffee. "I'm curious. I just fed you, so you owe me the scoop. Did you get her number?"

"No, I did not get her number."

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head. "You gonna?"

Lee scowled. "Why are you like this?"

"Because watching you flail is my favorite pastime."

He groaned, shoving another bite of Spam into his mouth just to avoid answering.

Melanie was far from done. "I mean, think about it. If she liked you before, she's gonna love you at six-foot-four. And bunny-eared."

Lee pointed his chopsticks at her. "Mel. I swear to God."

She just grinned, looking way too pleased with herself. The teasing should have been annoying. It was annoying. But at the same time, Lee found himself relaxing.

For a moment, the surreal weirdness of the last two days faded into the background, replaced by something simple. A kitchen, a plate of warm food, and his sister, giving him shit like nothing had changed at all.

Lee had just started to relax—just started to forget, for a moment, that his body was changing at an impossible rate—when Melanie picked up her keys. "All set, then? You ready?"

Lee, mid-bite, blinked. "For what?"

Melanie raised an eyebrow, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Our shopping trip. You need your own clothes. I'll drive."

Lee groaned. "Mel—"

"Nope. No arguments. You can't just wear Shane's stuff forever."

Why not? That sounds like a perfectly solid plan.

But Melanie was already getting up, rinsing her plate in the sink. "C'mon, we'll hit the Guildford Town Centre. Get you stuff that actually fits."

Lee frowned, setting his chopsticks down. "Wait… what are we gonna do about these?"

He gestured toward his half-grown bunny ears, which twitched involuntarily.

Melanie tapped her chin, considering. "Hmm. I guess I can let you wear my Canucks beanie?"

Lee squinted. "A beanie, in August?"

"Yeah. Got a problem with that?"

Lee leaned back, crossing his arms and let out a defeated sigh. "You know I've never been a Canucks fan."

Melanie smirked. "Yeah, but now you're a Vancouver icon. Gotta rep the city somehow, Bun-boy."

Lee groaned, dropping his head onto the table. "This is my life now, huh?"

"Yup."

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