"Mom... why do I have to wear this? Why do I have to pretend to be a girl?" Rai asked, frustration clear in his voice as he looked down at his now unfamiliar body.
His mother looked at him seriously, her expression devoid of any softness.
"Because your Khodam is female. And the world of shamans… is not a kind or gentle place, Rai," she replied, her tone calm but firm. "If they find out you're a man who summoned a female spirit, the darker side of the shamanic world will see you as an anomaly—something different. And anything different becomes a target."
She paused, her gaze steady and intense.
"If they find out the truth, your body could be turned into a specimen. Skinned, displayed, dissected—all in the name of 'forbidden knowledge.'"
Rai shivered. The image of himself as an experiment erased any shred of masculine pride he was trying to hold onto. His chest felt tight with dread.
"I… I understand," he muttered.
His mother nodded slowly, finally giving a small, reassuring smile. "Come on, let's go back. It's time to watch your classmates summon their Khodams."
Dragging his feet, Rai followed his mother back to the grand hall. Several groups had already gone through their summoning rites. Soon, it was time for them to proceed to the Registration Room to record the summoned spirits and issue their identification cards.
When Rai's name was called, he couldn't say a word as the clerk casually confirmed the details: Rai, Female. Khodam: Female. Status: Valid.
The new ID card now served as both shield and chain—an identity he never chose but had no way of escaping.
Later, all students were informed of the next step: boarding school. Every student would stay in dormitories for the duration of their training. To graduate, each shaman had to successfully summon at least three Khodams, which could take several years. For focus and safety, all students would be housed on school grounds.
Rai nearly collapsed when he learned he'd be placed in the girls' dormitory.
"I… have to live with them?" he whispered to his mother, pale and shaken.
"Don't worry. It's for your safety," she said softly, trying to comfort him.
Thankfully, there were still seven days before the official move into the dorms. Those seven days would be used by the school to finish summoning ceremonies for the rest of the students. Since the start of the Shamanic Era, the number of aspiring shamans had exploded—forcing schools to stretch the process across multiple days.
And once that was done, the students would face their first trial: the Spiritual Synchronization Test.
Rai let out a long, trembling sigh. In just seven days, his new life would begin. A life with a new body, a false identity… and dangers lurking behind every whispered rumor and curious gaze.
Rai now lived in Banjarmasin, a city known for its dense population of Shaman Schools. There were countless institutions—from Shaman School 1 and Shaman School 2, all the way to Shaman School 136, the highest numbered and generally the lowest in rank.
The rule was simple: the smaller the number, the higher the prestige. Shaman School 1 was a place where elite shamans taught, professionals with decades of experience and power. That was Rai's dream school.
To be accepted there, students were judged based on two major factors:
1. Academic scores, which covered both standard subjects like mathematics, chemistry, and physics, as well as supernatural studies like voodoo theory, mysticism, and Khodam knowledge.
2. Khodam control and combat capability, which meant the student had to demonstrate an understanding of their summoned spirit and the ability to wield it effectively in both offense and defense.
Determined not to fall behind, Rai used the seven-day break not as a holiday, but as a training period. Every morning, he studied theory; every afternoon, he trained his Khodam under the guidance of his father, a seasoned shaman; and every night, he returned to his books to study again.
His Khodam—a swarm of glowing fireflies—was not initially strong in attack. Its damage was low, and its utility was unclear. But his father had ideas.
"Try spinning the fireflies vertically," his father instructed one afternoon. "With that rotation, the force should pierce through better—more penetration, more control."
Rai practiced the move until he could create a spear-like whirl of energy from his Khodam.
"And next," his father added, "link ten fireflies together, make them spin while holding hands—form a spiral saw. It'll be your cutting edge in real battle."
It was difficult, but Rai managed to create the technique after hours of repetition. The spinning chain of fireflies tore through wooden targets with ease.
For defense, his father had another plan.
"Make them link hands again," he said, "but this time, layer them. A wall of linked fireflies in multiple rings—like shields stacked on top of each other. It won't be perfect, but it'll buy you time."
So Rai learned to build defensive formations with his Khodam, shaping them into glowing barriers in the shape of glowing, multi-layered domes.
For the entire seven days, Rai never stopped. Study. Train. Practice. Repeat.
And during those seven days, the artifact Rai was using worked surprisingly well.
The mysterious item slowly released estrogen, causing Rai's voice to become noticeably higher-pitched. His skin grew softer and paler, almost glowing with feminine beauty.
But it didn't stop there.
A subtle swelling began to form on his chest, small but undeniable. It made Rai panic the first time he noticed it in the mirror.
"Mom... something's wrong—" he tried to protest.
But his mother remained firm, her expression unyielding.
"You must not remove the artifact," she said, calm yet commanding. "This is the only way to protect you. If anyone finds out your true gender, the consequences could be... horrifying."
Rai didn't dare argue further. Deep down, he still remembered his mother's warning—the terrifying thought of being dissected or turned into a living experiment just because he was an anomaly in the world of shamans.
So, with a heavy heart and confusion in his eyes, Rai endured.
Seven days of transformation.
Seven days of pretending.
Seven days of becoming someone else—for survival.