Chapter 4: A Cry She Couldn’t Ignore

When she opened her eyes, the ceiling above was unfamiliar.

Her body rested on a large, plush bed, the softness of the mattress reminding her of the small one she once had at home.

Warm. Comfortable.

So comfortable she almost wanted to close her eyes and drift back to sleep.

Almost.

There was no way she could sleep now.

She remembered the nightmare clearly.

In it, she had turned into some pitiful, powerless, human-shaped Pikachu.

And Stacy had chased her for nine whole streets, wielding a lightning-charged Pokéball.

What kind of twisted dream was that?

A shiver ran down her spine.

But then—her nightmare suddenly seemed far too real.

She flexed her fingers without thinking, and blue-violet sparks of electricity crackled out between them, burning a black scar into the carved wood of the bedpost.

Her breath caught.

She really had become a human Pikachu.

The sudden noise made her freeze.

She stared down at her fingers in disbelief.

They looked normal.

Until she brushed against her long white hair.

Every strand immediately stood on end, floating like the bristled tail of a startled snow ferret.

“Great… static electricity, plus edition.”

She barely managed a whisper before her tongue tingled sharply.

A current jolted across it.

She yelped and bit into the pillow, muffling her cry.

The leftover charge Stacy hadn’t removed was still coursing through her body.

Every twitch of muscle rattled her like dice shaken in an electrified cup.

She cautiously slid off the bed.

But the moment her toes touched the floor, sparks shot out again.

Her tiny foot lit the tasseled carpet aflame.

“Ah—stop, stop, stop!”

She stomped at the fire in a panic, slapping at it with her hand—only to unleash another burst of lightning that seared an abstract scorch mark into the rug.

It took frantic effort to put out the flames.

When she finally did, she didn’t dare move an inch.

One wrong twitch and the whole room might go up.

Her mouth sparked.

Her body sparked.

Her very presence was a hazard.

From the moment she’d been dragged into this world, nothing had gone right.

First, that deranged woman had pinned her down, scribbling strange symbols into her mind and painting her body with markings.

And worse…

Her face flushed hot with shame.

That pervert had the nerve to spank her.

Again and again.

She bared her little fangs, voice trembling with fury.

“One day… just you wait. I’ll make you pay.”

She was a transmigrator.

A chosen one.

And what transmigrator didn’t have a golden cheat hidden up their sleeve?

The moment her “system” awakened, that perverted witch would be minced into tiny pieces—perfect filling for dumplings.

Stacy’s threats echoed in her mind.

Leave this body.

Leave this world.

As if she had any choice.

The instant she woke up here, she’d wanted to go back.

Only a masochist would stay by that lunatic’s side.

If she knew how to return, she’d already be gone—no hesitation.

But she didn’t.

Which meant the only path forward… was power.

Her golden finger.

Her cheat.

Whatever it was, she needed to find it, and fast.

She tugged at the ragged scrap of cloth she wore—if it could even be called clothing.

Underneath, her skin was pale, delicate, unmarked by any glowing runes.

She ran her hand across the back of her neck.

Smooth.

Nothing.

Her back? Impossible to reach.

No markings there either.

Then maybe… the power lay within the body itself.

Stacy had told her to leave it.

That meant this body carried strength.

“Sorry, Miss Original Owner, but I’m borrowing your power for now. If you’ve got memories or skills to share, now would be a good time.”

She closed her eyes.

Focused.

Waited.

…

Nothing.

Not even a whisper.

Her eyelids snapped open in frustration.

“Who transmigrates without inheriting the host’s memories?”

She didn’t know the world.

She couldn’t speak the language.

And that lunatic kept stuffing strange “strings of code” into her brain—one day it was going to explode.

“System. System, you there? Come on, don’t be shy. Pop out already.”

She tried again, and again.

Her voice filled with desperate hope.

“System? Hello? Hello?”

Silence.

Nothing answered.

Her shoulders slumped.

So the only thing she had was… electricity?

But that wasn’t even hers.

It was Stacy’s leftover torment, rattling inside her.

When it dissipated, she’d be left with nothing.

It wasn’t a power.

It was a curse.

A negative status effect.

Her lips curved into a shaky, hopeless laugh.

“Ahahaha… guess I’m just useless.”

She flopped onto the soft bed like a drained doll.

But she had forgotten one thing.

Her body no longer hurt much when she moved…

Except—

The instant her sore little bottom pressed against the sheets, she let out a scream that could shatter glass.

The sound ripped through the halls like a banshee’s wail.

High.

Clear.

Resonant.

A perfect, agonized pitch.

And outside, Stacy’s lips curved into a smile.

That was a voice she could never ignore.

Earlier, when Milly had fainted, Stacy had considered tidying up the throne hall.

The skirmish had left the grand chamber in ruins.

She had suppressed the enemy enough to prevent total destruction, but the place was still a wreck.

Most of the lesser servants had been annihilated.

She could rebuild—though cleaning up alone was tiresome.

She could abandon the castle for another lair—but she was fond of this so-called “Temple of the Evil God.”

A localized time reversal could restore it, but that would also revive the pests she had slain.

She wouldn’t have minded killing them again… but there was one complication.

Milly.

The girl was an unknown factor.

If time reversed, she might vanish entirely.

And Stacy wasn’t about to risk losing her new toy.

So she settled for sweeping away blood and bones, telling herself the corpses would respawn eventually anyway.

It took time, but once the mess was gone, she returned to her chamber—just in time to hear that delicious scream.

“Oh my, how lovely.”

She pushed open the door.

On the bed was a trembling white figure.

Adorable.

Fluffy.

Positioned in a rather… peculiar pose, bottom raised high.

The door’s creak startled her.

The little one’s body jolted, eyes wide with fear.

Was she afraid of Stacy?

The thought had barely crossed her mind when the girl clambered off the bed—

—and suddenly flung herself into Stacy’s arms.

“…Huh?”