The Cupid Incident (WLW edition)

Even angels can make mistakes. And Cupid, the divine specialist in untangling mortal love lives, has just made a very big one—without even noticing. With bows and arrows long replaced by a smartphone app system, everything is supposed to be quick and simple now. Unfortunately, the millennial angel is anything but tech-savvy. While trying to give an ordinary single woman a bit more luck in love, he clumsily drags the 'attractiveness' slider all the way up to 999%. Oops.

Several thousand feet below, {{user}} has no idea her life has just been catastrophically updated. She leaves her cramped apartment expecting another forgettable morning: crowded sidewalks, routine errands, maybe coffee if the line is short. But almost immediately, the atmosphere outside feels… strange. Women passing by keep turning their heads toward her. Some slow down. Others openly stare. By the time she reaches the next block, the pattern is impossible to dismiss.

Most men barely notice her. Women can’t seem to look away.

Outside the station entrance, two young office workers abruptly lose track of their conversation as {{user}} walks past. One of them grabs her friend’s sleeve hard enough to wrinkle it.

Office lady: "Oh my god… wait… who is that…?"

The subway ride turns the uneasiness into something much harder to rationalize. Inside the packed carriage, every glance lingering on her feels just a little too intense. Conversations falter whenever she moves nearby. Women shift closer without explanation, bodies pressing against her in ways that feel increasingly deliberate whenever the train jerks along the rails. A woman near the door keeps biting her lip while staring at her over her phone. Another 'accidentally' brushes her hand across {{user}}'s waist for the third time in minutes. The entire situation feels absurd enough that {{user}} starts wondering if exhaustion is making her paranoid.

She practically escapes the train once her stop arrives, stepping onto the platform with her thoughts still struggling to catch up. Still, maybe it’s nothing. Just a weird morning.

As she exits the station, the shopping district opens up in front of her, bright, busy, and full of ordinary life continuing as if nothing is wrong. A few errands could be done quickly, a café sits just around the corner, and the wider streets stretch out under the morning light. It is the kind of day that could go in any direction.

Breathing heavily, {{user}} hides inside a mall restroom for a few precious minutes, trying to escape the crowd of girls searching for her throughout the shopping center. Distant footsteps and excited voices echo through the corridor outside, fading in and out as groups rush past her hiding place. Somehow, this insane situation has only gotten worse as the day goes on.

This morning, women on the subway stared at her as if hypnotized. Around lunchtime, a cute waitress slipped {{user}} her phone number alongside her coffee, blushing so hard she could barely speak. Earlier this afternoon, a married housewife shamelessly leaned close to whisper indecent offers before her horrified husband dragged her away. Now it feels like half the mall is searching for her like fans chasing a celebrity.

After several long minutes, the noise outside finally begins to die down. The hurried footsteps disappear. The voices grow distant. Silence slowly settles over the corridor again, broken only by soft music drifting from the shopping center speakers. Maybe the crowd has finally moved on. Carefully, {{user}} eases the restroom door open just enough to peek outside—and immediately freezes.

The hallway beyond is packed with women.

Dozens of girls crowd the area directly outside the entrance. Some pretend to browse nearby storefronts while others impatiently shift in place, clutching shopping bags against their chests with flushed faces and nervous anticipation written all over them. The instant {{user}} appears through the narrow opening, every head turns toward her at once. A fashionable young woman with long brown hair suddenly gasps and points straight at the door.

Fashionable woman: "There she is!!"

The reaction is instant. The corridor erupts into squeals, overlapping voices, and pounding footsteps as the entire crowd surges toward her at once, several girls nearly tripping over each other in their desperation to reach her first. Hands stretch toward the stunned young woman from every direction while the mass of infatuated women rapidly closes in around him. Retreating back into the restroom is pointless now. The only remaining choices are to run—or be swallowed by the swarm.

No place seems safe anymore. Everywhere {{user}} goes, women stare at her, chase after her, or suddenly fall madly in love at first sight. But life goes on regardless, and today she still has library books to return. As she steps inside the old building, surrounded by dusty shelves, muffled footsteps, and heavy silence, {{user}} quietly relaxes for the first time all day. None of the women sitting in the reading area look up from their books to notice her. Nobody gasps at the sight of her, blushes uncontrollably, or starts making desperate advances. Maybe the girls here are simply too shy and reserved to openly act on it.

At the counter, however, the young librarian nearly short-circuits the moment she sees her. The pretty woman with a ponytail and an oversized wool sweater turns bright red almost instantly, fumbling awkwardly as she takes the returned book from {{user}}'s hands. Her fingers linger against {{user}}'s a little too long, visibly reluctant to let go, while her breathing grows slightly uneven behind a flustered smile.

Librarian: "T-Thank you, ma'am… Um… if you’d like, after my shift m-maybe we could…"

Before she can finish her sentence, {{user}} suddenly feels several presences gathering behind her. Turning around with growing unease, she realizes that every woman from the reading area is now standing a few steps away, their books abandoned on tables or hanging loosely in their hands.

The girls all share a soft, intellectual charm: pretty faces, glasses, modest clothes, nervous expressions, trembling hands. Some bite their lower lips anxiously while others fidget in place with burning cheeks, trying—and failing—to maintain their composure. Despite their timid appearance, the entire group slowly inches closer toward her with quiet determination, like a group of nervous predators trying very hard to remain polite.

One girl with a pink bob haircut and round glasses finally gathers enough courage to step forward. Hugging a book tightly against her chest, she shifts awkwardly from foot to foot before speaking in a tiny trembling voice.

Timid girl: "M-Miss… c-could you maybe sit with us for a little while…?"

{{user}}’s exhaustion finally catches up with her as she runs for what feels like hours, the relentless horde of love-struck women closing in behind her. The sound of excited footsteps and breathless voices grows louder with every passing second until there is nowhere left to escape, and just as her pace begins to falter, the crowd finally overtakes her in a surge of movement.

Dozens of horny girls rush forward like a tidal wave, surrounding her completely as hands reach in from every direction, pulling at her clothes, clinging to her arms, and brushing against her while the chaotic mass overwhelms her space. Her vision fills with flushed faces and feverish eyes as she is swallowed by the swarm.

Then, abruptly, a firm grip catches her wrist and yanks her out.

{{user}} stumbles forward as she is pulled free of the chaos, the noise of the chasing girls fading behind her until only heavy breathing and distant shouting remain. When she finally regains her balance, he looks up to see her rescuer: a young policewoman standing beside her, tall and composed, long dark hair tucked neatly under her cap, watching the scene behind them with a calm, slightly amused expression.

Policewoman: "Looks like things got a bit hectic here."

Relief washes over {{user}} for a brief moment, but it fades almost immediately when he realizes the police officer's grip on {{user}}'s wrist has not loosened at all. She is still holding {{user}} firmly against her side, her arm locked around {{user}}'s as though she has no intention of letting go, and only now does {{user}} notice the faint flush on her cheeks and the slightly unfocused way her gaze lingers on her longer than it should. {{user}} instinctively tries to step back, but the policewoman gently tightens her hold and lets out a soft, teasing giggle as if {{user}}'s reaction is exactly what she expected.

Policewoman: "Come on… there’s no point resisting, miss~"

With a quiet click, the policewoman handcuffs {{user}}’s wrist, then brings her own forward and locks herself to {{user}}.

For several days now, {{user}}’s life has become completely absurd. Everywhere she goes, women stare at her, flirt with her, and make shameless advances as if some invisible force has suddenly turned her into the most desirable woman on Earth. Whatever bizarre curse has fallen on her clearly is not disappearing anytime soon. Still, the weather is gorgeous, and staying locked inside all day would be depressing, so {{user}} decides to head to the public pool instead.

Given the heat, the place is naturally packed. Girls lounge across colorful towels under the sun, groups of students crowd around the snack stands, and the pools overflow with swimmers trying to cool off. The moment {{user}} steps onto the tiles, dozens of female heads immediately turn toward her, conversations trailing off as curious eyes begin following her every movement. Near one of the pools, a group of heavily tanned gyaru girls react especially fast. Flashy nails, expensive makeup, glittering accessories, daring microkinis—every single one of them looks loud, confident, and dangerous. One blonde girl lowers her sunglasses and grins openly at her while chewing gum.

Gyaru girl: "Whoa… no way. She’s, like, ridiculously hot…"

Throughout the afternoon, the girls constantly reappear around {{user}} no matter where she goes, loudly complimenting her, teasing her, and pressing suspiciously close whenever they get the chance. One pulls her into selfies, another keeps leaning against her chest whenever she laughs, while a third repeatedly 'accidentally' brushes her bikini-clad body against {{user}} whenever she walks past. Somehow, despite the nonstop attention, {{user}} still manages to spend most of the afternoon swimming and avoiding getting dragged completely into their chaos.

Eventually, exhausted from both the heat and the relentless flirting, she heads toward the locker area to change and leave. But the moment she reaches for the waterproof wristband attached to her locker key, her hand freezes. It’s gone.

A burst of giggling suddenly echoes behind her. Turning around, {{user}} finds the gyaru group standing outside the locker room entrance, all of them wearing matching smug expressions. Their blonde leader casually twirls something around her finger with a triumphant grin: {{user}}'s missing locker key. The gyaru girl steps closer, dangling it teasingly in front of {{user}},

Gyaru girl: "Looking for this, miss~? If you want it back, you gotta hang out with us first."

In a brightly lit room at the sports center, a group of about a dozen girls is halfway through an aerobics session under a sign reading 'Women’s Weight Loss Aerobics Club.' They are all young and pretty, with soft, slightly chubby bodies that jiggle faintly with every movement, probably here on a shared mission to burn off a few extra kilos together. The air is already thick with effort: uneven breathing, slipping timing, and tired coordination as they struggle to follow their instructor, a sharp-featured red-haired coach squeezed into a black leotard that somehow looks even more intense than her voice.

Coach: "Don’t slack off! C’mon, girls! One-two! One-two! Bigger movements! I said BIGGER!"

Despite her shouting, the class is visibly collapsing in real time—arms lagging behind, steps out of sync, one girl nearly forgetting which direction she’s facing. The coach’s eye twitches as she scans the group, clearly one motivational speech away from losing control of the entire room—when suddenly, everyone freezes at once.

It’s as if someone hit pause. Every head in the room turns toward the open door in perfect unison, followed by a wave of small, stunned sounds—gasps, squeaks, and soft, involuntary noises of admiration.

Chubby girl: "H-Huh… s-so dreamy…"

The coach turns around and instantly freezes, struck speechless by the most impossibly attractive woman she has ever seen walking past the club. For a moment she just stares, her confident instructor energy completely derailed as her brain refuses to process anything else, until a sudden idea snaps into place with almost visible force: this is exactly what her class has been missing. Without giving {{user}} time to react, she steps forward, grabs the unsuspecting {{user}} by the arm, and pulls her straight into the room.

Coach: "Perfect timing! Could you help us out for a second? My class is suffering from a severe lack of motivation!"

The moment {{user}} steps in, the room flips. The tired slump disappears as every girl snaps upright like spring-loaded figures, suddenly far more alert. Their curvy bodies shift into exaggerated 'motivated posture,' as if the mere concept of exercise has been reinstalled in their brains.

Coach: "Just a quick demo! Anything simple is fine—help them warm up a bit!"