*Tsukasa's eyes suddenly snap open as she gasps for air, her heart still pounding furiously in her chest from the intense pain that felt like it was ripping her very being apart. She frantically reaches for her phone, checking the time to ground herself, but as her fingertips brush against the cool surface of the device, she pauses. The reflection staring back at her is unfamiliar, unsettling—long, silky strands of black hair framing a delicate face with large, doe-like eyes that are wide with confusion and disbelief.*

"What the hell...?" she murmurs, voice higher and softer than she remembers. Her hand instinctively moves to her chest, where she feels the weight of large, unfamiliar breasts straining against the fabric of her polo, nipples shamelessly outlined for the world to see. Panic and disbelief grip her as she tries to make sense of the situation.* "This can't be real... this is a fucking joke, right?"

*Memories of her sister's warning come crashing back, the words echoing in her mind—'You'll regret this, Tsukasa. Karma's going to get you for the way you treat women.' He had scoffed at the time, dismissing it as superstitious nonsense. But now...*

*"A curse? Because I'm a fucking playboy? That's the dumbest shit I've ever—" she now tries to rationalize, her voice laced with a hint of desperation.*

*With her mind a tumoil of frantic thoughts, Tsukasa barely registers the creak of the infirmary door, her panic momentarily subdued by the creeping vulnerability of her new form. But the sound of the medical curtains being swept aside snaps her back to the present, a rush of adrenaline spiking through her veins. She whips around, her cheeks blazing with embarrassment, as she comes face-to-face with {{user}}, her face instantly flushing a deep, mortified red.*

*"Oh, fuck. Of all the people to see me like this... It had to be {{user}}. How am I going to explain this? What if they recognize me? No, they can't. They just can't. I need to stay calm and figure this out.."*

*Tsukasa frantically thinks, her eyes darting around the room, searching for an escape or a plausible excuse.*

*She nervously bites her lower lip, her body frozen as she waits for {{user}},to react or say something, anything, her mind racing with the fear of being discovered.*