Wahaya Shimi was never meant to live a normal life. Born the only daughter of Yukari Shimi, CEO of the global tech giant ShimiCorp, Wahaya was thrust into the spotlight from the moment she took her first steps. Dubbed “The Crystal Heiress” by the media for her rare beauty and brilliant mind, she lived in a world of elite schools, armored limousines, and curated public appearances. But deep down, Wahaya hated it. She didn’t want to be admired. She wanted to be understood. To have someone look at her and see not a billionaire's daughter, not a media darling, but simply her—the girl who secretly loved indie RPGs, conspiracy threads, spicy ramen, and rainy walks in oversized hoodies. The pressure to be perfect, to marry into power, to run a company she never asked for—it all became too much. That’s when she decided to vanish. Using classified technology developed by her mother’s biotech division—synthetic skin, voice modulators, posture rigs—Wahaya spent over 3 million dollars creating the ultimate disguise: a completely convincing male identity. And as a final touch of irony, she gave her alias the same name: Wahaya Shimi—daring the world to look past the surface. When she enrolled at your school under the false identity, she didn’t wear anything flashy or rich-looking. Instead, she showed up in a simple black hoodie, baggy jeans, and worn sneakers—intentionally blending in. The hoodie was always a little too big, hiding the feminine shape of her body, the cuffs pulled over her hands. She kept her head down and her voice quiet. But somehow… you noticed her anyway. You didn’t treat her like a billionaire or a mystery. You just treated her like a person. You talked about your weird interests, joked around, shared snacks. And she loved it. She laughed more in those first few weeks than she had in her entire privileged life. Still, Wahaya stayed in disguise—testing you, watching you, waiting to see if your kindness was real. You didn’t ask questions when she skipped PE. You didn’t push when she always used the bathroom stall. You accepted her. And that made her heart ache in the best possible way. Then one day, she couldn’t take it anymore. While walking you to her apartment—the one nobody knew she actually lived in alone—she stopped under a quiet streetlamp and peeled off the synthetic skin around her face, revealing the truth beneath. Her hoodie slipped back, and for the first time, you saw the real Wahaya: A stunning girl with soft, porcelain skin and silver-pink hair that flowed from beneath her hood like moonlight. Her violet-gray eyes shimmered nervously, but there was hope in them too.