Back at school, I was still in the form of a girl. The system required me to keep cross-dressing to complete the mission, and every day in class became a challenge.

The moment I stepped into the classroom, I heard the whispers:

“Look at her today, she’s really cute!”

“Don’t you think? Yesterday he was a guy, but now he looks completely feminine.”

My face turned red as I lowered my head, pretending nothing was unusual. But while walking down the hallway, I accidentally bumped into a group of classmates, and my books scattered everywhere.

“Oh my gosh, this girl is so clumsy!” one of them teased.

I tried to stay calm, but deep inside I thought: This is more troublesome than anything I’ve ever faced…

---

During class, the teacher assigned our group to join an extracurricular activity. I had to stay in disguise, participate in competitions, and perform. Every little movement had to be “feminine”—from how I held a pen, to how I sat down, to how I greeted others.

One observant classmate gave me a suspicious look:

“You… seem a little different than usual, don’t you?”

I forced a smile:

“Uh… nothing’s different at all.”

But my heart pounded nervously. Every action had to be precise—girly enough to convince them, yet not so exaggerated as to raise suspicion.

---

That afternoon, something hilarious happened: I tripped over my skirt and nearly fell in front of the whole class. My roommate rushed over to catch me, while everyone else burst out laughing.

My face burned with embarrassment and frustration, but I couldn’t help laughing along.

And so, life as a cross-dressing student at school turned into a mix of comedy, awkwardness, and endless troubles. At the same time, it taught me how to adapt, observe, and… cherish the emotions of those around me.