Chapter 1: Long-Awaited Reincarnation

Let me tell you a story about a man.
A story about a completely ordinary man.

He wasn’t exactly a good person, but he wasn’t a bad one either.
He wasn’t a genius, but he wasn’t incompetent.
He graduated from a mediocre university, got a mediocre job, and lived a mediocre life.
He was that kind of man—the kind you could find anywhere.

If there was one thing that set this ordinary man apart from others, it would be a single desire hidden deep within his heart.
To explain that desire, we need to go back to his middle school days.

Back then, he was just your average middle schooler.
Like so many boys his age, his heart was overflowing with lust and curiosity about sex.
But he didn’t have a girlfriend, and lacking the courage to do anything reckless, his only outlet was the collection of dirty pictures and erotic novels he could find online for free.
However, during that period of self-indulgent solitude, he stumbled upon something that would change his life forever.

That day, the “material” he casually selected was a certain erotic novel.
The genre was TS (Gender Bender)—a story about a man transformed into a beautiful girl by a mysterious power and then getting involved in explicit acts.
It was his first time encountering such a genre. He decided to give it a try.
And then… he didn’t get hooked.

In fact, he found it disgusting. The arousal faded, his erection died, and he closed the browser halfway through, ending the day without climaxing even once.
From that day on, he deliberately avoided similar works, steering clear of anything remotely related to TS stories.
Common sense would suggest he’d developed a kind of trauma, maybe even hatred, for the genre.
But the truth was the complete opposite.

He wasn’t just intrigued—he was captivated by the very concept of becoming a girl.
Deep within the recesses of his heart, a new, forbidden desire had been engraved:
He wanted to become a beautiful girl himself… and lose miserably to a man.
More than any treasure or power, he longed to transform—to experience the ultimate surrender.

Then, you might ask, doesn’t his behavior seem strange?
If he secretly desired such a thing, why would he act as if he despised it?
The answer is extremely simple.

“...Because... if I don’t... how can I... become a slut...?”

Understand this.
TS slutification is a magnificent privilege granted only to those who were once men—a paradoxical, yet strangely noble right.

It’s a form of art, perfected when a beautiful girl (formerly a man) shouts, “I’m a man, I’ll never lose to a dick!” only to ultimately fall and whisper, “I guess I couldn’t win after all...”
To achieve that state, one must first reject it.
Just as water tastes best when you’re dying of thirst, the pleasure of surrender is most exquisite when it follows resistance.
By detesting the very idea, vowing, “I will never give in,” and then losing regardless—that is the true essence of bliss.

That was the reasoning behind his actions.
As proof, the erection he thought had faded that day was, in fact, the hardest and hottest he’d ever had in his life.

But if you were to ask, “So what?”—the only answer would be, “Nothing, really.”
His desire was carved deep into his subconscious, buried where no one could see.
It wasn’t a realistic wish like traveling somewhere or meeting someone—it was a fantasy, the kind that belonged in stories.
There was no way such a development could happen in real life, and so, nothing about his outward behavior changed.

Feeling a vague emptiness, the man continued living his ordinary life—and was supposed to die just as ordinarily.

However, another major turning point awaited him.
One day, the man died in an accident.
A pure misfortune, with no deeper meaning behind it.
But what happened afterward defied all logic.

His soul—whether by chance or by the pull of his own powerful desire—did not fade.
Without losing consciousness, he found himself reincarnated in another world.
Reborn as a baby.
And as a girl, no less—the so-called TS reincarnation.

The world he was reborn into resembled his previous one on the surface, but beneath that façade lay something else entirely:
A world like an eroge, where monstrous beings called “Youma”—the natural enemies of humanity who devoured men and used women as breeding pods—ran rampant.
Born into such a world, her name was Charlotte Lilywhite, a girl of an American family lineage of Exorcists, those who fought against the Youma.

(G-G-God, to think I actually became a girl...!!)

Charlotte, age five.
She was in despair over her new life.
TS reincarnation—something she had never consciously wished for, yet secretly longed for more than anything.

(And on top of that, there are things like Youma!?)

Her father and mother taught her about their existence.
Though her parents spoke vaguely, the way they repeatedly warned, “They’re dangerous, so you must never go near them! ...Especially you, Char!” made it clear what fate awaited any captured woman.

It was the worst—and the best.
The absolute worst, and the absolute best.

Charlotte lamented her unlucky luck, cursed her blessed misfortune.
She was a girl already showing the promise of a great beauty in the future.

“Daddy~! I wanna become an Exorcist like you~!”

(Anyway, I have to gain the power to fight back—!!)

Amid the humiliating yet strangely exciting days of forcing herself to use girlish speech and gestures to avoid suspicion, Charlotte made a firm resolution.

“......Char. Are you sure about this?”

“Uh-huh. I want to be able to help people in trouble, like you, Daddy~”

“If it ever gets too hard, tell me anytime, okay? We can always make sure you live a normal life.”

—I will become an Exorcist who fights the Youma!!

Because if an ordinary person doesn’t acquire the strength to resist... isn’t it only natural that she could be violated at any time—or perhaps never experience it at all?

(That’s right. I am a man!! I will absolutely not be violated, and I will absolutely not lose to a dick! I want to! Heheh. If I become strong enough, maybe I could even go to Japan someday—no backing needed.)

That’s right.
Charlotte Lilywhite will absolutely not lose to any dick——!!

Incidentally, this world possessed a power known as Reiryoku, a force fueled by the human soul.
Those with strong desires or convictions could sometimes awaken unique abilities.
So then—could Charlotte, whose desire was strong enough to survive reincarnation itself, fail to awaken one? Of course not.

As if by natural right, Charlotte had already acquired a certain ability—one she herself was unaware of.

○ [Complete Defeat, Submission, Slutification, Desire to Lose to Cock]:
Dramatically increases growth rate in appearance, charm, and combat ability, but drastically reduces resistance to sexual acts and status ailments related to such acts.

GRRRRROOOOWWWWL—!!
Come on then, bring it on, you dick-wielders!!
Charlotte Lilywhite will become a slutified slave onahole wife with just a little dick shoved into her——!!!

Tokyo, Shinjuku.

"Eeeeeek—!!"

"Noooooo—!!"

In a dim, strangely desolate space filled with ruins far too dilapidated to exist in a modern city, the screams of over thirty boys and girls, colored with terror and panic, echoed through the air.

The reason for their screams was simple and obvious. Anyone could understand it at a glance.

They were surrounded by monsters.

Amorphous creatures, colored as though molded from human flesh and blood. Their bodies, covered in countless eyes and mouths, were so grotesque that merely looking at them could make one’s hair stand on end. These monsters—enough to make the weak-willed wet themselves just by sight—filled the area, packed in tightly.

These were youma, the natural enemies of humanity, said to be born from human negative emotions. This bizarre space, which should not exist in a modern city, was in fact an otherworldly dimension called the Kakuriyo, created by the youma themselves.

While these boys and girls clearly looked like prey on the verge of being devoured, they weren’t entirely helpless. After all, they were the only ones among humanity capable of opposing the youma—they were Exorcists.

However, if there was one problem to note, it was that they were still Exorcists in training. A group of semi-amateurs known as Docchaku, who had only recently awakened their powers.

"Aaaaah! My arm! My aaaarm!"

"Why... whhhyyyy? Why did I suggest coming to a place like thiiiiis?!"

The saying “A little learning is a dangerous thing” could not have been truer. The cause of their predicament lay in their half-mastered Exorcist abilities.

These were boys and girls who had awakened their spiritual power during a test of courage at school. Before they knew it, they’d been placed in an institution where Exorcists gathered, made to receive basic education. Their (in their own view) rapidly increasing abilities—and the resulting sense of omnipotence typical of youth—swelled in proportion.

Then, during their free time, they found traces leading to a Kakuriyo—a youma’s den—in a place they had visited for fun. Judging by its scale, it belonged to a low-grade youma.

Despite being taught never to approach one and to report it immediately if found, they were driven by baseless confidence, thinking, "We should be fine, right? We have to exterminate it so no civilians get hurt!"

And so, they charged right into the youma’s lair.

This was the result.

The power they had believed to be superhuman proved ineffective even against a low-grade youma. In the blink of an eye, they were reduced to cornered rats. The boys were covered in bruises and lacerations. The girls’ clothes were melted away, their bodies splattered with sticky, slimy fluids.

Their fate was already a foregone conclusion.

"Helppp... Somebody heeelp me!"

"Somebody... Anybody, pleaaase!"

Reality is endlessly cruel. Just because they had awakened slightly special powers didn’t mean they could suddenly fight monsters. Similarly, begging for help in a situation like this—there was no way someone would conveniently come sa—

"—‘Thunder, roar forth.’"

That voice, utterly dignified, resounded clearly even within the chaos.

Suddenly, lightning enveloped the entire Kakuriyo.

Lightning—once thought to be the sound of the gods, with one theory stating that the word kaminari (thunder) originates from “god’s roar.” Whether or not that theory is true, its meaning was clear here. The lightning that appeared could only be seen as a divine act.

The bolts of lightning filled the entire Kakuriyo, annihilating the youma in an instant. And yet, not a single boy or girl bore so much as a burn. It was nothing short of a miracle.

"Everyone, are you alright? You’re safe now."

"—Ah..."

"…………Uaah."

And then, she appeared—a single girl.

She had blond hair and blue eyes—clearly a foreigner. She seemed about the same age as the teens, perhaps slightly older. Contrary to her appearance, she spoke fluent Japanese.

The moment they saw her, the boys and girls forgot they’d been on the verge of death—or something even worse—and simply stared, captivated. The aura she exuded was overwhelming.

First and foremost, she was stunningly beautiful. Her sharply defined, perfectly balanced features surpassed even the most famous movie actresses. Her long golden hair, tied into a ponytail for ease of movement, shimmered with silky brilliance and a jewel-like luster. Her height—nearly 170 cm, tall for a woman—was offset by her elegant, model-like proportions.

And her figure—well, it was spectacular. A dynamite bust easily exceeding 100 cm in size. Her cute yet dignified outfit, reminiscent of a two-dimensional princess knight’s attire—armor, inner layer, and frills—was overshadowed by the prominent curves of her chest, giving her a strong, sensual allure. The bare thighs visible between her skirt and black knee-high socks were almost too alluring, and the boys found themselves hardening unconsciously.

Even more overwhelming than her beauty was the sheer presence she emitted.

This is different...

More than the terror of nearly being killed by youma, that single glance shattered their pride.

This is an Exorcist—the real deal. Ah, what a foolish misunderstanding we had. Compared to her, we are nothing but dust.

"Charlotte Lilywhite..."

Someone murmured the name. It didn’t matter who—it was what everyone was thinking. The teens knew immediately who the girl before them was. Or rather, she was so famous that even newcomers to the world of Exorcists knew her name.

Charlotte Lilywhite.

‘Number One Youma Slayer in Japan,’ ‘The Goddess from the USA,’ ‘The Golden Angel,’ ‘The Star of the Human World,’ ‘The World’s Greatest Idol,’ ‘The Natural Enemy of Youma,’ ‘The Valkyrie of the Kakuriyo,’ ‘The Flower of the Present World’—all of these were epithets used to describe her.

Beautiful, intelligent, worth a thousand in battle, gentle, and sincere. Normally such praise would sound like exaggerated hyperbole, but when applied to her, even that felt insufficient. She was the ultimate heroine—beloved by Japan, admired by the world.

"Come now. Let’s return to a safe place. You all did very well."

Having swiftly healed the injured and repaired their torn clothing with spiritual power, Charlotte smiled softly.

The emotion they felt that day, in that moment, was something these boys and girls would never forget for the rest of their lives.

To put it simply, Charlotte had overdone it.

Dreaming deep in her heart of a wonderful defeat, she had come to Japan alone and fought youma every day. That, in itself, was fine.

Given that Charlotte was like the bottom-tier, easily captured heroine of a low-budget rape eroge—who, despite cheat-like growth, could reach the erotic scenes within three minutes of play—she should have already met a defeat-breeding-ground, double–peace-sign ending.

However, the real problem was that she lived by another subconscious thought: “To experience the most satisfying defeat, I have to do everything I possibly can—and then lose completely and utterly.”

Her relentless, grueling training with no days off, combined with her accelerated growth rate, raised her power to unimaginable heights. And yet, she still had the body of an eroge heroine. There were countless moments where a little carelessness could have put her on the path to defeat and violation.

At one point, if she had overestimated her resistance to status ailments, she could have ended up a hypnotized, brainwashed slave girl. —But she properly equipped herself with gear against those, so it was fine.

At another time, in a hurry, had she been arrogant toward a small youma clinging to her—thinking, "I should be fine with this level"—it could have toyed with her private parts, sending her straight down the defeat route. —But she didn’t let her guard down, even against the small ones, and properly defeated it. So, it was fine.

There were many similar close calls... yet, by consistently acting unlike any proper eroge heroine—listening to advice, thinking prudently, avoiding arrogance, and never underestimating others—Charlotte kept winning. She won too much.

Day after day, it was victory without defeat. She went on to destroy multiple cabals of ancient, intelligent youma—beings capable of plunging Japan, even the world, into darkness. By any measure, she had overdone it.

If her achievements had been even slightly lesser, she might have been betrayed—shot in the back by jealous humans or powerful men coveting her beautiful body—and forced onto the “meat slave” route. But unfortunately, she had piled up too many victories.

As the saying goes, “The nail that sticks out gets hammered down,” but a nail that sticks out too far can no longer be hammered. Her overwhelming success made her untouchable. If Charlotte were to fall now, Japan might fall with her. No one could interfere.

And yet, from Charlotte’s perspective, she yearned for complete defeat, submission, feminization, and loss to a man. Because of that, her days felt strangely empty.

To fill that void, she pushed herself harder, became kinder, stronger, more beloved—and only kept winning. Her fame and power grew endlessly.

Before she knew it, Charlotte Lilywhite had become a super-heroine who was simply too successful.