The other people on the subway glared at him.

“Shut up, will you?” A man on the opposite side of the train car yelled at him. 

Shito was very confused. One moment, his dragon was just about to be drained in the privacy of his bedroom. The next, he was in a crowded subway car, and his dragon was gone, replaced with a negative dragon for the lack of a better term.
It obviously wasn’t a dream. HIs dreams did not leave him anywhere as lucid as he was now, and he was the cis-est person he knew. There was no way that he subconsciously thought that he was a girl. He was damn proud of his dragon and wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Though the situation, if real, was puzzlingly crazy. 

Shito looked at the window behind him. The other side was the pure darkness of the tunnel the subway was in, so he could see his reflection perfectly. 

He looked the same as the day before. It wasn’t a genderbend transmigration like in some of the web serials he read. Or maybe it was. Shito didn’t exactly have prior experience to be able to tell the difference.

What was happening to him he didn’t exactly know, but if it wasn’t a dream and he was still on Earth, he must’ve been knocked out, subjected to a gender-changing surgery and dumped in this crowded subway car. And since the subway car was crowded, that meant that there were witnesses. They would’ve seen the culprits, or maybe a few were the culprits. 

It didn’t matter if they were paid to keep quiet. He was the fifth son of the Kumochi clan. Money was nothing when he could kill a commoner with the snap of a finger.

He stood up, ready to question the person opposite to him, but was stopped before he could step forwards. A hand pressed on his shoulder, preventing him from moving forwards.

“Move,” Shito said, attempting to push the hand aside and grab the neck of the person who dared touch his noble body.

Things do not always go as planned, however. The hand on his shoulder remained unmoving despite his best attempts to prove otherwise, and the hand reaching for the other person’s neck was brushed aside easily.

For the second time of the day, Shito was shocked. He was a cultivator. Despite having no muscles, he could easily arm-wrestle a few bodybuilders at the same time and win. The script was clearly wrong.

Shito looked at the man whose hand was pressed on him. He was a middle-aged man with an ugly mug that was wearing an extraordinary lecherous expression, an expression that Shito was well familiar with. 

“Getting feisty, are we?” the man said.

Shito narrowed his eyes, confrontationally replying, “What do you want?” 

The man only laughed in response, slipping his hand into Shito’s trousers. 

The molester was being molested, though Shito was too disgusted to catch the irony.

*

“Aren’t illusion formations great?” said Riku with a voice filled with mirth.

Nine masked cultivators were standing around a holographic projecting the torment of the Kumochi fifth son, who was unknowingly trapped in an underground room below them. 

However, the other eight cultivators didn’t seem to find the situation so amusing. In fact, the girl with the nice voice was slightly concerned.

“Do you know how expensive illusion formations are to create and operate?”

Obviously, she was concerned about the plight of Riku's wallet more than the plight of the molested molester.

The rich young master nodded uncaringly. “Of course. I made it myself.”

“So you’re aware that you're practically burning hundreds of spirit stones every minute!”

Riku shrugged. “Isn’t it kinda funny, though? The molester gets molested, hehe. Plus,” he continued, “I have the money to burn. Just like you, Miss I-Hired-Seven-Cultivators-Just-To-Beat-Someone-Up.”

“This and that are different!” she ignantly replied, “I didn’t hire them. They’re my friends. And even if you wanted to have your fun, you didn’t need to use an illusion formation to simulate a crowded train. The underground dugout works fine as it is. Like, who even pays attention to the place they’re in when they’re being molested? Also, why’d you set up the illusion to give the piece of shit a vagina of all things?”

Deciding not to mention the fact that he had already half-completed the job earlier, Riku replied, “I thought it was funny.”

“You aren’t wrong; that was great, but it’s expensive! And even if you wanted to go all-out, you could’ve just, you know, set up a VR system and used illusion formations to augment it to make it feel realistic? The upfront cost might be higher, but the operation costs will be significantly lowered! If you ever want to do this conversion therapy on other molesters, it’ll be so much more efficient!”

“Conversion therapy?” Riku was confused. 

“Isn’t that what this illusion is for? To convert molesters into non-molesters by having them personally experience the horrors of their crime?”

“What? No, I just thought that it would be fitting to, you know, have the molester be molested. What goes around comes around, right? Isn’t it great?”

“No! Of course not! You’re spending all this money for no reason whatsoever! There are much cheaper ways to torture people, you know? And is just the molesting illusion all you have set up?”

“Well, yes. That’s enough, no?”
“No! Of course not! You should have a deep background voice in his head that condemns the molester for his sins, that says that this is the punishment for his crimes!”

“Huh, actually that’s a good idea. I can do that.”

“And you can set up another scenario where the molester is presented with a beautiful lady to molest.”

“Why would I do that? Won’t that just be a reward?”

“No, not exactly. When the molester tries to molest the lady, the lady will transform into an ugly man and molest him back.”

“Ohhh, that’s smart. I can do that too.”

“Also also, you can have a situation where another, fake molester is molesting a lady, and if the molester stops the other molester, the molester is rewarded with something. Oh, since we beat him up really badly earlier, maybe a painkiller would work.”

“Another molester like Seiryu of the East? Alright, do you have anything else?”

“Who’s Seiryu of the East? Anyways, I do have something else. You can…”

*

The next morning, the Kumochi fifth son was unkidnapped back to his home, and Riku finally had time to go to the maid café he wanted to visit a day before.

A short while later, when he left the building to the enthusiastic chorus of the maids singing “We await your return, master!” he mumbled to nobody in particular:
“Man, Chiaki’s food tastes better. Why did I even bother again?”

Thus, Riku went back home and watched anime for 76 hours in a row.