My name is Pastry Beau Lethe Ambrosia, a 14-year-old male. I find myself gazing at the moon, a cigarette dangling from my lips as I contemplate the beauty of the night sky. I'm well aware I'm too young to be smoking, but in my solitude, I don't particularly care. You only live once, and I believe in savoring life's pleasures while you're young.

Suddenly, an eerie scream pierces the tranquility of the night, interrupting my reverie as I watch the clouds drift aimlessly overhead. My curiosity leads me to the source of the disturbance, and what I witness is nothing short of horrific – a man brutally stabbing another in the middle of the street. A rather unfortunate choice for a crime scene, I must say. Were it me, I'd orchestrate a secret, sophisticated execution, leaving detectives baffled without witnesses or evidence to trace.

As for testifying as a witness, it's far too bothersome, and I hardly know the man, so I doubt I'd remember his face. He should count himself lucky that only I saw him, for his chances of escape are about 10 out of 100, by my estimation. The late hour ensures most people are fast asleep.

Despite my fascination with crime scenes, this is my first time witnessing one in person, a desire fueled by too many horror movies. Now, though, I can't summon the energy to care.

"And there he goes, fleeing the scene... Did he not see me watching all along? Well, it's time for me to get some rest," I remind myself after completing my nightly routine. I close the windows, settle into bed, and, mind you, my room is spotless. When my family was alive, our house was perpetually messy, and I despised it. Their absence has granted me the freedom to maintain a clean living space with much less hassle.

Curling up beneath the blanket, I eventually drift off to sleep, though I've always had difficulty falling asleep quickly.

++++

I awaken in an inexplicable place, standing in a seemingly endless white void. It's unmistakably a dream.

With no particular destination in mind, I aimlessly explore this boundless whiteness, almost resigning to the futility of my journey. Just as I'm about to give up, I stumble upon an unexpected object: a pink wand adorned with ribbons and a heart-shaped head.

"Could this be some sort of magical girl wand?" I wonder to myself, picking it up and twirling it like a pen. I have a penchant for gender-bent magical girl stories and see no reason to be judged for it.

I entertain the thought of uttering a phrase to transform into a magical girl but, before I can even make up a line, a screen filled with words materializes in front of me, resembling the character selection screen of a video game.

At the top of the list, a title reads: "Please select the role you wish to play." There are precisely one hundred options listed in alphabetical order, ranging from Armor Girl to Ant Girl, Baseball Girl to Bat Girl, and so on, up to 100.

"All of them end with 'girl'... Am I supposed to choose a number?" I mumble to the empty air, not expecting an answer. I'm lazy, so I opt for my birthday: January 7. I click on the seventh option, Cannon Girl. The name sounds cool, right? Not that I genuinely care about any of this. However, nothing happens.

++++

At 4:00 am, my phone's alarm blared a death metal track, rudely rousing me from my peaceful slumber.

I followed my usual morning routine in preparation for school. Rising from bed, I made it neatly, then subjected myself to a cold shower that still irked me, even though it had become a daily ritual. After the bracing shower, I cooked and devoured breakfast, promptly washing the dishes afterward. Finally, I donned my school uniform, an attire that resembled a priest's garb if only it weren't blue.

By 5:00 am, I found myself with time to spare, though my class wouldn't start until six. I despised the idea of wasting my precious time waiting for a tardy teacher, so I occupied myself with video games. This procrastination habit often made me late for school.

Surprisingly, I had a genuine liking for attending school. Despite my image as a problematic student, I preferred education over becoming a completely aimless individual who sold whatever they could find. I had nothing else to occupy my time, and perhaps attending school could pave the way for a brighter future.

"Oh, I died..." I muttered in frustration as my virtual character met its end.

However, a few minutes of procrastination were abruptly interrupted when the doorbell rang. I approached the door to investigate, finding a delivery man waiting outside.

"What do you need?" I asked.

"Are you Mr. Ambrosia?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Got it. Here's your package." He handed me a box and, without further explanation, sped away on his motorcycle.

I watched his departure, harboring an ill-wish for a vehicular mishap that never came to pass. Sometimes I wished I could make my thoughts a reality, but it was another peaceful day in the neighborhood.

I had no recollection of ordering anything, so I wondered if someone else might have sent this box. However, since it was addressed to Ambrosia, which was me, I accepted it without complaint.

Back in my living room, I placed the box on the table. I stared at it for a moment before carefully opening it with my hands, gracefully tearing away the Scotch tape. I unraveled the box with deliberate slowness, building up the anticipation. What emerged was... a stuffed toy.

It was a small, fluffy chibi-like girl with nothing but eyes – no clothes, all white.

"Kinda cute," I remarked.

"May you open your mouth wide?" I heard a girl's voice.

"... Who?" I questioned.

"May you open your mouth wide?" she repeated. A strange sensation filled me; the voice was so close, as if coming from the toy in my hands.

"Was it you?" I asked.

"May you open your mouth wide?" she requested for a third time.

"Damn it, just answer me. Was it you?" I inquired once more.

"May you open your mouth wide?" The stuffed toy suddenly moved, gazing up at me, as though it was peering deep into my soul.

"Wow, what an intriguing toy," I remarked. I began searching for its battery, but to my surprise, there seemed to be none. Moreover, the toy felt warm and soft, almost as if it were alive. Was it possibly possessed by a ghost, or some new, unknown species? Perhaps it was time to star in a TV show.

"May you open your mouth wide?" It asked one last time. Growing annoyed, I decided to oblige the voice's request and opened my mouth.

Suddenly, the stuffed toy slipped from my grasp and lunged into my mouth with force. I began choking, flailing about in a panicked dance. It felt like an eternity, but after a few harrowing moments, I could finally breathe again. My voice sounded different, like that of a girl, and I realized I had long, white hair. I had transformed into a girl.