OPERATION FEMME

Yuki's pov

The morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, casting warm golden streaks across the countertop. Grandpa sat at the dining table, watching me with vague curiosity as I helped him with breakfast.

Lily had texted earlier, saying she’d be late. That left me in charge.

I flipped the eggs with practiced ease, Making sure they were cooked to the precision grandpa liked.

“Here you go, Pops,” I said, setting his plate down. “Sunny-side up, just how you like it.”

Grandpa nodded, his eyes slightly vacant, but he still managed a small smile. “Thank you, Laurie.”

I stiffened but quickly forced a grin. “No problem, old man.”

I placed his morning meds next to his plate. “Don’t forget these.”

As he started eating, I turned to the kitchen counter, only for my stomach to drop.

Electricity bill: $200  

Money owed: $420  

Total: $620  

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

At this rate, I’d have to start selling my organs.

Before I could wallow in my financial despair, my phone vibrated with a notification.

Estergram: Cincel’s new skirt line ‘Boudoir’ is now available!

I clicked the link out of curiosity, scrolling through the pictures. The skirts were gorgeous—flowy, sleek, bold. One caught my eye. A black, thigh-slit masterpiece that screamed confidence.

I smirked, nudging Suzu with my foot. “I’d look good in that skirt, right?”

She barked in response.

“If only I were a woman,” I mused, tossing my phone onto the counter. “The guys would die of blue balls every time I walked into a room.”

Then, my gaze drifted back to the bills.

And an idea—an absolutely ridiculous, insane, batshit idea—popped into my head.

My fingers hovered over my phone before I quickly dialed Lily.

She picked up after the second ring. “Any problem? Is your grandad having another episode?”

“No, no, he’s alright. Suzu’s keeping him company.”

She hummed distractedly, probably busy with something. “Okay. So what’s up?”

I took a deep breath. “Lily, do you think I could pass as a girl?”

“Yeah, obviously,” she answered absently.

“Thanks, bitch. That’s perfect.”

I hung up, my grin stretching wider.

This was either going to be the best idea I’d ever had or the absolute worst.

And either way, I was doing it.

It wasn’t just any company. It was CreedXTechnologies—the best damn tech company in the world. The kind of place that could turn a nobody into a legend.

And I wanted in.

Not just because of the prestige, not just because it was my last shot at a stable job, but because my mom used to work there. She was their receptionist, the kind that made everyone’s day better just by existing. I used to sit in the lobby as a kid, watching her charm her way through the busiest shifts like she owned the place.

I wanted to be part of that legacy.

But apparently, the universe had other plans.

Banks had rejected me because, well, I had a tiny habit of slacking off on the most soul-crushing tasks. Restaurants didn’t want me because I had a big mouth—turns out, customers don’t appreciate unsolicited, bitchy advice with their meals. And schools? Let’s just say punching a bully in the face for mocking a defenseless kid doesn’t exactly make you "teacher material."

CreedX Technologies was my last chance. And if I had to bend the rules to get in, then so be it.

Taking a quick peep on pops to make sure he was okay, I grabbed the bill and slipped away to my room.

I slumped onto my bed and grabbed my phone. “What does it even mean to ‘be a girl’ anyway?” I muttered. “Besides the constant mewling over cute things and unnecessary food cravings?”

Curiosity, or maybe desperation, got the better of me. I opened QTube and typed “How to be feminine” into the search bar. The algorithm quickly presented a treasure trove of videos: “Top 10 Tips to Look and Act Like a Lady,” “Feminine Body Language 101,” and “Mastering the Art of the Feminine Walk.”

“Alright, internet, don’t fail me now,” I said, clicking on the first video.

The screen lit up with an overly enthusiastic woman in a pastel dress. Her voice was bubbly, borderline shrill, as she greeted her viewers. I cranked the volume down a notch before my eardrums gave out.

“Step one: Posture, posture, posture!” she chirped. “A lady always stands tall and proud. Shoulders back, head up, and make sure to maintain a soft, elegant demeanor.”

I sat up straight and adjusted my shoulders. “Okay, not too hard,” I mumbled, mimicking her movements. “Tall, proud, and elegant. Got it.”

The video continued. “Step two: Smile warmly. A soft smile can light up any room!”

I plastered a smile on my face, glancing at the mirror. It looked more like a grimace. “Warm smile, huh? More like deranged psychopath,” I muttered.

By the time I got to step three—“The Feminine Walk”—I was up and pacing the room. The woman on-screen demonstrated a slow, deliberate stride, her hips swaying with precision.

“Walk like a goddess,” she said, her tone dripping with confidence.

I gave it a try, carefully placing one foot in front of the other. Halfway across the room, I tripped over my own feet and barely caught myself on the bedpost.

“Yeah, no. This might be harder than I presumed,” I muttered, glaring at the screen.

After watching two more videos and attempting to mimic their advice, I flopped onto the bed, utterly defeated. “I’m going to need backup,” I declared to no one in particular.

I picked up my phone and opened Lily’s contact, my thumb hovering over the call button. If anyone could teach me how to fake femininity without making me feel like a total idiot, it was her.

“Alright, Lily,” I muttered. “Time to make me a star.”