The first place he was guided to looked like a hair salon, yet at the same time felt somehow abnormal.

A solitary white booth set up in one corner of the bleak facility.

Surrounded by cold, inorganic concrete floors and walls, only the three-panel mirror and the vanity placed there emitted a quiet, oppressive presence, like the entrance to another world.

It was still covered in white cloth, its full form not yet revealed, but this was the chamber for a ritual where ‘being a man’ would be stripped away and he would be ‘remade as a woman.’

From the moment one stepped inside, there was no turning back.

‘What… are they going to do to me here?’

The instant he crushed the urge to flee, a cool female staff member’s fingertips brushed against Gō’s hair from behind, as if appraising prey—and at the center of it all was Ōnuma Risa.

“Wow… it really is just like it felt. Such beautiful hair…”

A gentle voice echoed.

Risa, a hairstylist, unlike the other staff, gazed at Gō’s hair with innocent-looking eyes.

“I know it’ll turn out lovely. I feel like I can bring out your cute charm even more.”

What floated in her eyes was nothing more than professional focus and a warmth like that of someone cherishing a work of art.

“The hair quality is amazing… it’s like a high-grade canvas.”

There was no reproach or teasing in Risa’s tone, only pure expectation.

That, in turn, dulled Gō’s sense of caution—slowly, but steadily.

Cute—that wasn’t a word meant to praise a man.

What she saw wasn’t Gō as a man.

His hair was merely a base to be given a new form, as a girl.

Certainly, words of praise were being piled on.

Yet for some reason, his heart grew colder.

None of those words touched ‘him.’

Though he was being evaluated, all that was there was value as mere ‘material’ to be remade.

Each time her fingertips stroked his hair, it felt as though his name was being peeled away little by little.

As if, with careful hands, only his ‘ego’ was being shaved down.

And yet—there was not a shred of malice in Risa’s voice.

That, to Gō, was the most cruel thing of all.

“Seriously, the hair quality is perfect. Soft and glossy. If you were a girl, you’d be super popular for sure.”

“I mean, it’s already almost like a girl’s hair. I’m kind of jealous~”

As the surrounding staff whispered jokingly with laughter, Risa alone didn’t smile, gently stroking Gō’s hair with a serious gaze.

Gō muttered inwardly.

‘…I’m not a toy…’

Even so, he couldn’t resist Risa’s touch.

It was careful and gentle, like an artist lovingly creating a ‘new self.’

Eventually, Risa picked up a bottle of dye and smiled softly.

“Alright, let’s begin. It’s okay—I’ll make it really beautiful.”

There was no threat in her tone, as if she were saying, Let’s enjoy becoming cute together.

That only tightened the outline of Gō’s manhood from the inside.

Though he wanted to resist, the words clogged in his throat and his strength drained away.

Each time her fingers traced his scalp, the cool dye seeped in, sending a dull, cold pain flashing through him.

As the dye spread into every corner of his scalp, Gō’s nerves reacted sharply and his shoulders trembled.

“I’ll put in extensions too. I’ll adjust the length later, so don’t worry.”

Risa’s voice remained calm throughout, carrying not the slightest hint of intimidation.

Yet beneath that calmness was an unhesitating certainty, almost mechanical, aimed squarely at ‘completion.’

Each time the tips of the extensions brushed the nape of Gō’s neck, the cold, foreign sensation disturbed his skin.

One by one, the extensions were braided into his hair.

The discomfort resting on his shoulders.

The weight hanging at his nape.

Risa, whether noticing or not, simply kept braiding away happily.

Each meticulous movement meant to make it look natural instead drove the humiliation of losing his manhood straight into his body.

All of it was a device to hide every trace of man and place upon him the mask of a woman.

“How about this color? A slightly translucent chestnut brown. Soft and girly… I really love this shade.”

Saying that, Risa applied the dye as though she were deeply in love with what she was creating.

Each strand of hair felt as though it had begun to move independently of his will.

The softness touching his skin was part of him—or should have been—yet it felt strangely like it wasn’t his body at all.

The familiar feel of a man’s body he’d lived with since birth was slowly becoming someone else’s.

The moment that thought crossed his mind, a wordless suffocation welled up in Gō’s chest.

‘I’m… no longer me…’

Risa wrapped that sensation in the words making it beautiful.

Her smile alone took everything away.

“Okay, tilt your head down a bit. That’s it, show me more of your nape. …Wow, you’re so obedient, good boy♪”

Her voice was bright and gentle, like praising a child.

The fingers combing through his hair were as soft as a breeze, never rough.

And yet, that kindness slowly eroded something inside Gō.

“…You know, the nape is really important. Just the back view alone can make someone think ‘girl,’ you know.”

As she spoke, Risa naturally touched Gō’s nape.

Stroking it, checking it, feeling the fine hairs with her fingertips.

Gō’s shoulders trembled slightly.

“Mmm, there’s still a bit of fuzz left. …But it’s okay, I’ll make it nice and clean, alright?”

There was no malice in her voice.

Only a single-minded passion for ‘finishing.’

To her, Gō’s nape was nothing more than a ‘part that brings out cuteness.’

“Don’t move, okay~ It’ll be over in a moment.”

Laughing lightly, Risa picked up a razor and slid it across his skin without hesitation.

The joking tone and the cold touch of metal.

It felt as though traces of manhood were being erased line by line from his skin.

“Yeah, the line looks great… This nape will totally stand out. It’s like a neck that invites love just from the back.”

It was already a ‘woman’s back view.’

Though he was being praised, something cold flowed down Gō’s chest.

Risa’s words felt like checking the quality of a finished product.

They forced him to face the reality of being shaped not by his own will, but toward ‘the kind of girl she envisioned.’

Before long, Risa’s fingers holding scissors reached in front of his face.

“Now then… last is the bangs. Let’s do them straight across. This is where girlishness really gets decided♪ I’ll make them just long enough to brush your eyes… yeah, definitely cute.”

Snip.

The crisp sound echoed.

That sound severed something else inside Gō—pride, the outline of manhood, self-recognition.

‘Please stop… don’t destroy my face, my shape…’

Ignoring his silent screams, Risa was completely absorbed.

Like a painter adding strokes to a canvas, she contentedly cut the next line.

Snip, snip.

‘…This sound is changing my outline.’

The trimmed bangs softly fell over his eyes.

His vision dimmed, as if his world were being dyed into something else.

“Okay, done♪ …Ah, but no mirror yet. The surprise the first time you see it is important♪”

Risa laughed without a care.

There was nothing in her smile but pure satisfaction.

She wanted to show off ‘the cute girl she had made’ as soon as possible.

She truly believed that ‘anything I make will definitely be cute.’

Each time he touched that belief, Gō found himself unable even to resist.

‘She’s… not breaking me. She’s just making me cute…’

And that was exactly why he couldn’t escape.

He couldn’t even find a reason to fight.

That just was what hurt the most.

The softly hanging hair changed his view, as though a thin veil had been draped over the contours of the world.

It felt like his male gaze itself was being sealed away.

Each time his hair brushed his skin, something deep within stirred, telling him that this sensation was no longer ‘his.’

‘I didn’t know… a feeling like this…’

A gentle heat seeped behind his eyes.

But whether it was tears or not, he no longer knew.

—Back view, nape, bangs.

Risa’s hands quietly peeled away the traces of man one by one.

Gō simply lost himself.

Standing before the mirror, yet forbidden from seeing it.

‘The moment I nodded at whatever was reflected there, it felt like the man inside me would quietly melt away.’

That was the last sliver of grace left to preserve his outline.

The faint warmth lingering in his throat sank away soundlessly, like light disappearing into deep water.

What lay beyond that—no one had told him yet.