Chapter 1

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

That strange noise woke me up from my perfect slumber. It sounded like a mouse gnawing on something or leaves being stepped on.

A thin veil of light came into the apartment from the blinds that didn’t quite close all the way up, so the room wasn’t in complete darkness. It was early morning, but I didn’t feel like getting up or checking whatever was making that noise.

That was because I hadn’t slept particularly well—and no, it wasn’t my stomach complaining about the ramen this time. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like there was a weight pressing on my chest. The room was pitch-black then, so I couldn’t tell much about whatever horrible creature had invaded my dreams. I had a distinct feeling they were feminine, judging by their body shape and voice.

In other words, I had been visited by a succubus.

Or, at least, that’s the impression I got. Now that I was semi-lucid, I knew that had just been a particularly vivid sleep paralysis hallucination. It had never happened to me before, and judging by how intense the whole ordeal was, I wasn’t particularly keen to experience it again. Thankfully, it lasted for just a little while, and I fell asleep soon after.

I really wanted to go back to sleep, but that sound persisted, forcing me to wake.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Now that I was paying more attention to it, it sounded awfully familiar.

No, it’s not a mouse. What is it…?

Then, it all clicked, and I jumped out of bed with a jolt.

Eating. It was the sound of someone eating.

I scanned the room covered in the faintest of lights. There, in the opposite corner from the bed, I could see a figure.

A figure who was currently busy ransacking my snack stash.

A snack burglar?! At this time of year, at this time of day, localized entirely within my kitchen?!

I wanted to get a good look at this home invader, but staying in the cover of darkness might be to my advantage. So, trying to minimize the amount of noise I made, I grabbed the thickest hardcover book I could find on my bedside table and slowly approached the figure.

And right as I was but an inch away from them, I hit them squarely in the back of the head!

“Ouch!” Came a shriek—a particularly feminine one. This girl collapsed onto the floor, clutching her head in pain.

Shoot, did I put too much force into that?

I took a step back from the snack monster; I certainly didn’t expect them to be a woman, that’s for sure.

“Who are you?!” I said with my deepest, commanding voice. “How did you enter my apartment? And more importantly, why are you eating my snacks?!”

“Too many questions from someone who just assaulted a poor, innocent girl! Ouch, my head! It’s still hurting!” She said as she rolled around on the floor, clutching her temples.

“Innocent?! You’re a literal home invader!”

“Hey, I don’t know what’s happening, either,” she said, stopping her best impression of a chinchilla taking a dust bath. “All I remember was already being here. I was hoping you could tell me how that happened, but you didn’t wake up earlier.”

Wait, so she was the succubus?

In this darkened room, I couldn’t see many of this girl’s features, even now that she had gotten up. She was a bit shorter than me, and her hair was quite light. She also seemed to be quite skimpily dressed, with a tank top and shorts.

“And why are you eating my snacks?” I asked as she dipped her whole hand back in a bag of chips.

“Duh. I was hungry, and you were sleeping so soundly that I couldn’t wake you up.”

Well, she seems harmless, at least, I thought as I lowered my weapon of mass literacy. Aside from the voracious appetite.

Speaking like this in the dark wouldn’t be helpful for either of us, so I went past her and reached for the light switch.

And the moment the room was illuminated, my jaw dropped.

I recognized her instantly. Not because I knew her, exactly. I’d never met her—not in this form, at least.

The silky white hair.

The piercing light blue eyes.

The hourglass body shaped like that of a model.

The rimless round glasses.

And finally, the tank top and dolphin shorts.

The snack monster was a carbon copy of my OC.

“W-What’s going on?” I asked, taking a step back away from her. “Why are you dressed like Mana?” I blurted out.

She smiled back at me—her lips curling, making her look a bit like a cat.

“What are you saying? I’m not dressed like Mana. I am Mana. That’s my name, I’m pretty sure.”

By then, my jaw was all the way on the floor.

⬡⬢⬡⬢⬡

After snatching the potato chips from her—she couldn’t speak with her mouth full of oil and starch—I finally managed to sit this girl, Mana, down on one of my floor cushions.

“Let’s think about this problem calmly and logically together, okay?”

Mana cocked her head. “Hmm? What problem?”

“You! You’re the problem!” I said, shoving a finger in her direction. “Are you expecting me to believe you just magically spawned in my apartment? What’s this, an 80s manga? That’s the flimsiest excuse I’ve ever heard of!”

In response, the girl puffed out her cheeks. “But it’s true! Or, well, I’m not sure sure. I just can’t remember coming into this room at all, so that makes the most sense, right?” Then, the corner of her mouth curled up again. “Or maybe you got me drunk, had your way with me, and are now trying to find any excuse to escape your responsibilities?”

“Did not. I’m not even invited to any parties.”

“Ehh, so you’re one of those? Can’t say I’m surprised~”

“Can it!”

She snickered at me, and then looked straight into my eyes, her smile fading.

“Hey, is what you said true? That I’m… your OC, or something?”

“Oh? Yeah. Or at least, you look just like her.”

“Huh… Is that so?” She said, her tone with just a hint of loneliness.

After our shared confusion, I offered this girl—let’s call her Mana—the absurd observation that she looked just like my OC of the same name. And she didn’t try to fight back on it at all, just adding that tidbit that she apparently just appeared in my room in the middle of the night. And basically ransacked all my snacks while I slept.

“So do you remember anything before you appeared here? That might give us a clue to what is going on.”

Mana paused for a couple of seconds, making some “hmm” and “huh?” noises. Thinking. And thinking. And thinking—

“Mana?”

“Hmm, that’s… odd,” she said. “I can’t think of anything.”

“You… can’t?”

“Nothing about my past or tastes. Just my name and that I’m a model.”

I sighed. “Full-on amnesia, huh…?

Great, so not only do I have to deal with a bottomless snack guzzling machine, she also doesn’t even remember anything about herself. Could she actually be—

“I still don’t quite believe it,” she added, pushing her glasses up. “Am I really just a character you made up?”

“Well… I don’t have any better explanations, either,” I added. “And if you can’t remember anything else about yourself, then we have no clues to go on.”

“So you’re an artist, is that it?” She asked. “Do you have any drawings of… me?”

“Oh, sure?”

I fished my phone out of my pocket, placed it on the table between us, and showed her my Fweeter account.

“‘Nitrochilla’? That’s your name? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It doesn’t really mean anything. I just liked how it sounded. It’s supposed to come from chinchilla—anyway, that’s not the point. Here, see? That’s you.”

I showed her my media tab, with all the drawings of Mana I’d done over the years. Mana in casual clothes, dresses, bikinis—

Aww, shit.

I attempted to snatch my phone back from her, but she was quicker than me, and grabbed it from the table.

“Ehh, you drew me showing a lot of skin, creator,” she said, swiping on the screen with that curled-up smile of hers.

I could feel my face getting hot. “I-I had no choice! Lewd drawings always get more traction on social media, and—”

“Sure, sure, let’s go with that,” she said. “Ohh, this dress is cute! But I don’t think that’s how boobs work—”

“Ahh, stop it! Give it back!”

I tried to reach over to her, expecting a fight to the death over my dignity, but instead, she just handed my phone back with no resistance.

“Here. I’ve seen enough.”

“Oh, huh… thanks?”

Then, she sighed.

“So I’m just that. Some pin-up girl you use as a model?” She asked, with a certain melancholy that hadn’t been there before.

Well, that’s awkward. What should I even say?

But before I had the time to formulate an answer, she continued.

“Hmm… but how can I be sure you’re my ‘creator’?” You could have just drawn someone else’s character. And you have no proof I’m actually Mana, right?”

“Yeah, I suppose you have a point.”

She’s actually smarter than she acts, huh.

“Alright, then. I have a proposal to clear all our doubts.”

I gulped dryly. “Which is?”

“To make sure I’m really your OC, I suggest we decide on a couple of facts about me that only you and I could know.”

“Ah, I see. But well, can you actually recall anything about yourself?”

“Right… yeah, that’s a problem, isn’t it? I can only recall things about my body.”

I was about to say, “Really?” but I held my tongue.

After all, if this girl really was Mana, then I basically made this girl pretty so I could pose her around in different clothes. I wasn’t a writer, so I didn’t exactly give her a backstory or anything.

“Well, whatever,” she said as she shrugged. “We can use that. How about my height, three sizes, and cup size?”

If I were eating, I’d have spat out everything.

“…Excuse me?”

“I mean, I know them, so you must too, right?” She asked with a twisted smile.

“I-I guess…?”

To be honest, I didn’t recall them exactly. It was one of those things I wrote in her character sheet and promptly forgot all about.

“Great! Then let’s write them on a piece of paper and show each other!”

“Sure…?”

I fished for some paper and two pens, and gave it to her.

“Alright, ready?”

“This isn’t a race—”

“Go!”

“For god’s sake…”

Well, I gotta write something down now.

I tried to rack my brain about exactly what I wrote about Mana back when I designed her. Eventually, I just went with my gut.

“You done?” She asked.

“Well, yeah, as best I could.”

“Great, now show it to me!”

I presented my paper to her, and she began comparing our responses.

“Okay, first height,” she began. “Oh, same answer. 165 centimeters. You pass the first test.”

That was the easy one.

“Now the three sizes…. hmm… You got some wrong.”

“D-Did I?”

“You wrote 92-60-95, but it’s actually 95-60-92.”

“Does it matter? I just switched the numbers around in my mind.”

“Sure, that’s fine. At least you were right about my cup size, you horndog. It’s indeed an F.”

“Hey, this was your idea! Don’t go around judging me for it now!”

“Eh-eh. Just messing with you! But still, the only way to prove I’m really Mana is to measure myself—”

“Stop it right there. I don’t think that’s necessary. I’m more than convinced. And besides, I don’t even have a tape measure.”

“Well, alright,” she said, shrugging. “Are we both satisfied then? That I’m actually your OC Mana, and that you’re my creator?”

“…Yes. I don’t think there’s a better explanation for this,” I said, resting my arms back.

Still, a lot of mysteries remained.

…That was the understatement of the century.

“But how did this happen?” She asked the obvious first question. “Did you wish upon some genie to make me real or something?”

“No, I didn’t. You just popped up out of nowhere—”

Wait, that’s not quite right.

Something strange did happen yesterday.

“Don’t tell me it was the SSR Girl-Flavored Ramen…”

“The… what now?”

Right, it said to wish upon the figurine to turn into a character—

I got up in a rush to check that blank figurine I had left on my work station.

“Gone! It’s gone!!”

“What’s gone?”

“The ramen figurine! What the heck is going on here?!”

I started feeling dizzy. Did that stupid ramen actually have some supernatural power to turn a character real?

“Woah, calm down, okay? Just tell me what happened from the start.”

I briefly explained to Mana The Adventures of Nitrochilla in the Land of Ramen, in other words, my trip to that dodgy vending machine that violated all food safety regulations.

“I can’t believe my creator is stupid enough to eat ramen out of an unlabeled cup.”

“Look, the gacha was too enticing—wait, that's beside the point!”

“Right,” she said, her voice leveled. “So I was born out of a ramen cup?”

“The figurine, more precisely, but yes.”

“Not exactly the legendary backstory I was hoping for…”

Either way it happened, Mana was real. She was here, spawned by some mysterious power in my apartment. There was no doubt that she was a fictional character come to life.

Now the question was—

“What do we do with you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t worry so much about that,” she said, staring right at me behind those round glasses of hers. “I’m probably just a hallucination or something.”

“Come again?”

“I mean, really? A fictional character come to life? Even I know that’s just impossible.”

Hold on, how is she the voice of reason in this situation?!

“So yeah, I’ll probably vanish eventually. You don’t need to worry about that in the long run. Just enjoy having a cute girl in your apartment for once.”

“Hey!”

And then her stomach growled—loud, almost on cue.

“But, more importantly,” she began, “do you have something I could eat? I’m starving over here!”