EPILOGUE:

Aoi Himari died in the year 2048, ten years after the System was established.

Her image endured.

The Meatgirl Catgirl.
The jingle—“See our bodies!”

They became synonymous with conversion. Used across System countries as proof that the process worked. That it was accepted. That some people were willing participants in the end.

That was the lie.

For twenty years, it held.

Then someone came forward.

An unnamed witness.

They spoke of Aoi’s final days. The humiliation. The quiet suffering. The way it had all been hidden behind careful presentation and practiced smiles.

They spoke of the agency that had made her famous.

How, upon conversion, they did not release her.

They kept her.

When pressed for answers, her agent, Hori Ishida, claimed he knew nothing of her suffering. That it had been hidden from him.

Subsequent evidence proved this to be a lie.

Company policy required all interactions with Idols to be recorded—to ensure they remained in character.

The footage existed.

Ishida had seen it.

He had directed it.

He was identified as the ringleader in her abuse.

He was later converted.

Processed.

His company did not survive the scandal.

In response to public outrage, the System adapted.

New laws were introduced—not to prevent abuse, but to ensure it remained unseen.

Standards were formalised.

Ownership was redefined.

Private control was limited.

Not out of compassion—

but to maintain order.

The song did not change.

It was translated. Distributed. Performed.

Children sang it. Audiences joined in.

It remained what it had always been:

Proof.

That the System worked.

That people were willing.

That it was right.

The Meatgirl Catgirl.

Her image appeared everywhere—on boxes, on shirts, across authorised merchandise. Smiling. Bright. Unchanging.

And always, somewhere in the corner—

small enough to miss—

her name.

Image representative of Aoi Himari in her final days before Slaughter.