Chapter 27: Idol Master

The city entrance was a chaotic symphony of honking horns, revving engines, and the occasional frustrated shout.

The main road, usually a lifeline for commuters, had become a stagnant river of bumper-to-bumper traffic. Exhaust fumes thickened the air.

Traffic lights blinked uselessly as a group of traffic controllers, their fluorescent vests glowing like beacons in the dim evening light, scrambled to untangle the mess.

From a small blue portable toilet tucked into a narrow corner—a designated spot for the traffic control staff—a figure hurriedly stepped out.

Her brown hair was an unkempt mess, loose strands falling wildly. A long bang veiled the upper half of her face, concealing her eyes.

She fumbled with the buttons of her uniform, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the ill-fitting pants that threatened to slip down her hips.

One of her boots was still half-unlaced, and she nearly tripped as she stumbled forward, clutching a walkie-talkie in her other hand.

“I-I have to hurry…”

Through the strands of her bangs, her brown eyes darted across the sea of cars, scanning the gridlock with a mix of uncertainty and anxiety.

The walkie-talkie crackled to life, and a sharp, impatient voice barked through it.

“Boy, are you there yet?!”

The words cut through the noise like a knife. She flinched, nearly dropping the device as she fumbled to respond.

“I-I’m here, sir! Just… just getting to my spot now!”

“About time! You were this close to being late! And you know what happens then? You’d be fired!”

“Y-Yes, sir! I’m sorry, sir!”

Though only five minutes had passed since his first call, Sawa couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of relief. Despite her boss’s gruff demeanor, he never questioned how she managed to reach her post so unnaturally fast—no matter where she was coming from.

It was one of the few perks of the job—along with the meager paycheck—that spared her from having to explain her… unusual methods.

“Good! Now go take your spot—I want you to clear a lane for emergency vehicles.”

The line cut off with a sharp crackle.

She broke into a jog, her loose laces slapping against the pavement as she ran.

Around her, the city was a blur of motion and noise. Drivers leaned out of their windows, shouting at each other or at the overwhelmed traffic controllers struggling to restore order.

Though the traffic seemed sudden, she already had a good idea of the cause—the festival she had seen advertised on posters. It wasn’t just the posters, either. For the past week, she had overheard people chatting excitedly about the event as they passed by.

The congestion was the result of a surge of visitors from other cities, all eager to attend.

As she reached her post, she quickly straightened her uniform—a crisp navy-blue shirt with the city’s emblem stitched on the sleeve, paired with matching trousers and polished black boots.

She grabbed a fluorescent vest from a nearby rack and slipped it on before taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

The walkie-talkie buzzed again. This time, she was the one to speak as she lifted it to her mouth.

“T-This is Sawa. I’m o-on-site n-now. Starting lane c-clearance on the w-west side.”

There was no response—not that she expected one. While she believed communication was important for working efficiently as a team, no one else seemed to care. Most were here just to get paid. The only time anyone ever responded was when the boss himself was on the line.

…Or if a woman was.

Sawa sighed, clipping the walkie-talkie back onto her belt. She adjusted her vest and stepped into the chaos, her boots clicking against the pavement as she maneuvered through the sea of stopped cars, searching for a better vantage point to direct traffic.

The festival congestion was worse than she had anticipated. Navigating the gridlock was one thing—avoiding the angry glares of frustrated drivers was another. She kept her head down, focusing on the task at hand, though the weight of their stares made her skin crawl.

Maybe I shouldn’t have cross-dressed as a boy after all…Though I was a man in the past…

It hadn’t been an easy choice, but it was a necessary one. Finding work in physically demanding jobs as a woman had been nearly impossible.

Employers took one look at her and dismissed her outright, assuming she couldn’t handle the labor. And even when she did manage to land a job, it never ended well.

The problem wasn’t just the work itself—it was the harassment that came with it. The leering stares, the inappropriate comments, the unwanted advances. And when she rejected them, things only got worse. She had been fired multiple times—not because of her performance, but because she refused to play along.

Without any form of personal identification, her options were even more limited. She couldn’t apply for jobs that required background checks or official paperwork. Part-time gigs and under-the-table work were all she could manage, and most of those were physically demanding.

It wasn’t like she had much of a choice—her education had stopped at high school, and she’d never had the chance to go to college.

So, she had made the decision to cross-dress. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than nothing. Everyone at her current job thought she was a boy—a newbie from the countryside looking for work. Technically, they weren’t wrong.

However, that came with a few minor disadvantages she hadn’t anticipated. She couldn’t believe how stark the contrast was between how she was treated now and how she’d been treated before. 

As a woman, there was always someone—usually a man—hovering around her, offering unsolicited help. “Are you okay?” “Take it slow.” “Let me help you with that.” It was suffocating. Even the bosses would sometimes tell her to take a break, even when her shift wasn’t over.

That had been uncomfortable, but it was still better than being yelled at.

Right now, in her current state of mind, she couldn’t handle that like she used to.

Now, as a “boy,” everything was different. No one offered to help her carry heavy equipment or asked if she needed a break (Not like she needed any). 

No one checked in on her or gave her those pitying smiles. Instead, they expected her to keep up without question. If she struggled, that was her problem. If she fell behind, it was her fault. No hand-holding, no special treatment—just constant yelling and criticism whenever they got the chance.

It was a harsh reality, especially in this new world she had stepped into.

Sawa shook her head, snapping herself back to the present. There was no time to dwell on it—she had a job to do.

She picked up her pace, weaving through the stopped cars as she headed toward her designated spot.

“Hey! You, kid! What the hell’s going on?!”

…

“We’ve been stuck here for almost an hour! Do something!”

“This is a damn joke! What are you people even doing?”

Angry shouts came from all directions. Drivers leaned out of their windows, some waving their arms, others even slamming their horns in frustration just to get her attention.

She kept her head slightly lowered, her gaze fixed straight ahead, careful not to make eye contact.

Acknowledging them would only make things worse. If she let one person pull her into an argument, the rest would pile on, and she’d never get back to work. So she acted as if she didn’t hear them, pushing forward without so much as a flinch.

Just as the frustration in their voices seemed to reach a boiling point, a sharp, high-pitched wail cut through the noise.

!?

A siren.

Her head snapped toward the sound.

A little way down the road, an ambulance was trying to push through the congestion. Its red and white lights flashed urgently, reflecting off the windshields of nearby cars. 

But the vehicles ahead were a tangled mess, the drivers caught in hesitation, unsure of which way to move. Some edged forward, others tried to back up, but no one coordinated, creating more confusion instead of clearing a path.

Her head flicked back and forth—first to the spot she’d chosen to direct traffic, then to the ambulance, still trapped in the unmoving sea of cars.

I guess I won’t make it home tonight…

Abandoning her original position, she moved toward the ambulance’s path, raising both arms as she stepped into the middle of the chaos.

“M-move to the s-sides! Clear t-the…the lane!”

…

“Great, just what we needed…”

“Another hour of waiting, damn it!”

…

“S-Sir, please! W-we need to clear a path f-for the ambulance! It’s an e-emergency—”

“Where the FUCK do you expect me to go? Drive straight into the car in front of me?! Use your damn head!”

He had a point. Even if they wanted to cooperate, there wasn’t much room to move.

It was her responsibility to fix this, but the best option—clearing space one car at a time—would take at least an hour. And she didn’t have that kind of time.

I should call the boss… I should really quit…

Hm?

“Someone singing?”

She thought she heard a faint, high-pitched sound, almost as if someone were singing from nowhere.

But as she tried to locate the source, a sudden chill crawled up her spine.

S-Something didn’t feel right.

“?!”

Just as she was about to convince herself it was all in her head—

A sharp, high-pitched sound pierced the air, followed by a shockwave. It rippled through the road, tearing its way up the path with incredible speed.

She stood frozen, her eyes darting around—not just in confusion over what had happened, but because, all at once, everything went silent.

The shouting, the honking—gone.

The cars and their drivers stood still in eerie unison, hands gripping the steering wheels, their wide, emotionless eyes staring straight ahead. It was as if something had stripped them of all feeling.

“W-What is happening…?”

The silence stretched—until the faint sound of wheels rolling against the pavement broke through.

One by one, the cars ahead began shifting aside, moving in perfect synchronization, clearing a path in the middle of the road like falling dominoes.

Even the ambulance, which had been rushing forward with its sirens wailing just moments ago, rolled to the side, its blaring alarm now eerily muted.

In less than a minute, she was the only one left standing in the center of the road.

Once again, the silence stretched. She found herself moving forward, confused, her eyes darting left and right with uncertainty—and a hint of anxiety.

Huh?

Then, a distant sound broke the stillness—a low hum of an approaching engine.

From afar, her gaze locked onto a sleek, black limousine gliding toward her.

“A man?”

Inside the car, in the back seat, despite the dim lighting, the speaker’s features stood out clearly.

Long bluish-purple hair, cut in a hime style, framed their face, accented by a yellow flower petal hair clip. Their narrowed eyes, the same shade as their hair, fixed on the approaching figure of Sawa through the windshield.

“Tch… Why isn’t this cockroach under my control…”

Resting her cheek against her right hand by the car’s side window, she let out a sigh.

“Dear~ You can stop the car here~”

Her tone shifted so abruptly, it felt like a different person had spoken. The contrast between her cold mutter toward Sawa and her soft, almost playful command to the driver—who appeared to be a girl of around the same age as her—was striking.

“Ah, yes, right away, Onee-sama.”

The car halted abruptly, and Sawa’s steps faltered, Sawa's gaze snapping to the limousine’s rear door as it clicked open.

Her eyes immediately locked onto the figure emerging from within.

The girl appeared ordinary at first glance—yet the intensity in her eyes told a different story. She stared at Sawa with an expression that felt deeply personal, as if Sawa had committed some unforgivable act toward her.

“How dare you look at me with those disgusting eyes—how dare you! You’re not on your knees yet?!”

“Eh?”

Despite her harmless appearance, the girl’s hand gripped the car door with terrifying force—the metal twisted, and the window shattered with a sharp crack.

Her head lifted, eyes cold as she stared down at Sawa.

“Answer me, you disgusting being.”

In that moment, only one thought crossed Sawa’s mind:

What is with the kids of this generation?