Those eyes can't be real.

She's too freaking cute.

Isn't she supposed to be an Orc?

She looks like a green puppy, I can't even.

"Can I braid your hair?" She repeats the question, snapping me out of my insulin overdose.

"Sure, go ahead." My voice — I mean Alexandra's — is pitching up like crazy.

Can you blame me? She's so adorable.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Mabel, daughter of Varró, the best tailor of the tribe." She claims, her eyes sparkling, glancing at the crowd as she plops down on the seat by me.

Following her gaze, I find the proud mother staring back at her. She's much smaller than Charlotte, but still rather muscular.

She opens her palm to signal something to her child, and before starting her magic, she adds.

"Oh, and I'm six."

Kya! I'm going to die of diabetes.

I almost introduce myself too, and to make it worse, I have to choke the name Leona down my throat before I blow my cover.

"Nice to meet you, Mabel." I'm shaking. I want to pet her, but would that be appropriate? I'm a Goddess after all. Is it a title or am I an actual deity Alexandra never elaborated on it.

In any case, I have to be careful. With my belly full, and staring at this adorableness, my brain is foggy.

This results in a few curious stares my way, but screw that, they've been looking like this the entire time I ate.

Unlike the adults, who're all half-naked, and gathering in the mess hall, she wears a medieval dress.

Whatever its name could be, shift dress? I'm by no means an expert, but she's too cute.

With green skin and clean white clothes, she's like an angel. She braided flowers into her long, black hair, and pale brown freckles dot her puffy cheeks.

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Is this how she plans to braid mine too? She seems adept at it, or at least does better than I ever could.

Okay, I won't protest. It should be easier to carry all that hair around without drowning in sweat.

She's like a Missme Princess from a cartoon about fantasy creatures. You know? Missme, the studio with the mouse.

They raised generations of children on their fairy tales. All before greed took over and their company set out to ruin everyone's adulthood.

Ah, to be young, and carefree. I remember those days before they bought my favorite franchises to kill them.

Of course, I can't blame this green-faced emerald-eyed puppy for any of this. I want to squeeze her, and I don't even like kids.

She doesn't have those large tusks as the adults. I even saw a few kids with them running around, but Mabel misses her front teeth too.

This doesn't help in making her less adorable. Must pat, must protect.

My high school classmates squeaked whenever they saw pictures of other's younger siblings. Or cats and puppies.

While I could understand the latter, this is the first time I see why they had this fad. It's because she looks exactly like a puppy.

Other than my little sister, kids always felt too chatty, energetic, or plain annoying to me. Mabel is the most perfect of cute.

Ah, this thought is a downer. Emi — my sister — doesn't even know yet, that I'm gone.

I promised to meet her after school and lead her around the campus. If Alexandra keeps her promise and returns for me fast, I can still do that, but I have a feeling, it won't happen.

Thinking about her snaps me out of this cuteness-induced coma, and I ponder.

How will she make me a new body? How will she copy my original one even if she figures it out? Is she a sculptor?

Did she have a good look at me? Why would she, I was an unassuming, average tomboy, with nothing special about me to look at.

Long arms and legs, a thin and flat torso, and short messy hair. Even though I can't give a detailed description of myself, I hate to look at my reflection in the mirror.

Her body is so much different. The longer I spend inside it, the less I want to give up on it. Hell, even an Orc's body would be more satisfying than that.

And now that I know their kids can be this cute? I'm jealous.

When do they turn into those muscular killing machines like the rest of the tribe? Or is my perception of their species wrong from the beginning?

Whenever it feels like I know a lot about this world already, something like this happens. It almost slaps me in the face.

The truth is that most of this comes from cheap fantasy titles I read through in my previous life. Or if we say that evaporating my original body doesn't count as dying the current one.

Come on, Alex, what did you think when you did that? And why did you help in the first place? Which fantasy trope does this fall under?

Am I the chosen one? A love interest? A random stranger who won the lottery? There are so many cheap tropes I could think of. I don't know which one to hope for.

"It's done." So deep in thought, I didn't even notice that Mabel finished. How long did it take? I have a lot of hair, and it's all in two neat braids now.

No flowers in it yet, but I can't say I'm disappointed.

"Wow, you did an amazing job." Here we go, with the pitching-up voice again, but I can't help it. She grins, flashing her missing teeth, and hugs my arm.

Guh, don't kill me like this. It's too much, I don't deserve it.

I only arrived in this world a day ago, and now I'm well-fed, groomed, and worshipped by a tribe's worth of Orcs. Do I even want to go back?!

I could get used to this. And that is the problem.