"Hiroto-kun, aren’t you thirsty? Want to drink the tea I brought?"

"Ren-kun, let’s build a castle in the sandbox together! I’ll dig everything with the shovel, so you just sit!"

"Ahh, I’m tired. Someone massage my shoulders."

"Me! I’ll do it! I’ll do it!"

After getting off the kindergarten bus, the playground during morning free play had, as usual, turned into a horrific chaotic space.

Under a cloudless blue sky, on the prime bench beneath the shaded wisteria trellis, the few precious boys in the class sat sprawled out like emperors of ancient Rome.

And surrounding them were girls of the same age, diligently—no, with gleaming eyes like female leopards stalking prey.

‘...This isn’t a zoo, it’s basically a survival-of-the-fittest savannah.’

Leaning my back against the horizontal bar in the corner of the playground, I watched the scene with half exasperation.

From the perspective of my previous life, five-year-olds were creatures that ran around in the mud with runny noses, regardless of gender.

But the girls in this crazy world were different.

They were already desperately engaged in the survival strategy of "how to get close to a high-quality asset 'male' and mark him for the future."

"Haaah… If only I still had even half the vitality those kids have…"

Suddenly, a heavy sigh crawling along the ground came from right beside me.

Turning my gaze, I saw our class’s homeroom teacher, Misaki-sensei (24 years old, single), staring at the sandbox with eyes completely devoid of light.

Her chestnut-colored hair was loosely tied back, and her chick-pattern apron suited her well.

By the standards of my previous life, she was plainly cute, charming, and definitely the type who would be popular.

But beneath her eyes were deep, ocean-like dark circles that even concealer couldn’t hide.

"Rough day, huh, sensei."

"Huh? Ah, yeah. I was just out late at a mixer yesterday… wait, huh? Shizuku-chan, aren’t you going to play with your friends?"

Perhaps startled by my husky, oddly composed voice, Misaki-sensei hurriedly pasted on her usual cheerful childcare-worker smile and looked at me.

But her tone was completely that of a worn-out working adult at her limit.

"I’m good. I’ve got no interest in joining that blood-soaked survival over there."

"S-survival… Shizuku-chan, you’re only five, but you use some pretty intense expressions…"

Misaki-sensei forced a strained smile.

I pushed myself off the bar and walked over, standing beside her and jerking my chin toward the battlefield—the sandbox.

"By the way, sensei. In this world… I mean, among adult women, is it really like that every day? Fighting over men?"

For the sake of planning my future life—mainly how to leisurely admire cute girls—I probed casually, disguising it as small talk.

At that, Misaki-sensei let out another deep sigh, even heavier than before.

"Yeah… it might be a bit early for you, Shizuku-chan, but the adult world is even harsher than that sandbox. There are so few men that if a woman lives normally, she’ll never get married in her lifetime."

"I see. So men can just pick whoever they want."

"More than that—they’re treated like gods. For us women, to even stand at the starting line of marriage hunting, we need a high income, high education, beauty… and on top of that, the economic strength to perfectly handle all housework and support a husband as a full-time househusband for life."

...Seriously?

If a stubborn old man from the Showa era heard that, he’d foam at the mouth and collapse.

In other words, men in this world grow up believing "it’s natural to be supported by women" and "it’s natural for women to devote themselves completely."

No wonder brats like those lounging around and making their classmates massage their shoulders are mass-produced.

"So? Did your mixer go badly, sensei?"

"Ugh… W-well…"

Hit right on the mark, Misaki-sensei clutched her chest.

She must’ve let her guard down thinking she was talking to just a five-year-old and almost let her true feelings slip.

Not surprising—she was completely worn out.

My mental age is 26, so I’ve got the skills to listen to a senior’s complaints at a late-night bar.

I looked up at her and quietly urged her to continue.

"Listen to this… The moment I told him my salary was about average, he totally changed his attitude! He said, ‘Do you really think you can make me happy with that income? Misaki-chan, you lack love,’ right to my face!"

Finally bursting, Misaki-sensei started venting while pressing a handkerchief to her eyes.

Her speech had completely shifted from "gentle teacher" to "late-night drinking rant."

"Hey, sensei. If he’s that annoying, just find someone else. You don’t have to settle just to get married…"

"Shizuku-chan, this world isn’t about settling or not."

She shook her head with dark eyes at my simple question.

"There are too few men, so this country basically runs on polygamy. It’s the law. Capable, high-earning women support multiple husbands—no, one husband shared among multiple wives. Women with average incomes like me can’t even get into the ‘fourth wife’ or ‘fifth wife’ slots."

"...What? Polygamy?"

"That’s right. And adult men are obligated by the state to provide sperm. So even if you can’t get married, you can still have children through sperm banks. In fact, the percentage of single mothers is very high… But still, our ultimate dream as women is to live with a husband who loves only us. Just being in a household where the father is present makes you an ‘elite winner.’"

...Seriously?

From my previous life’s sense of ethics, this system is completely insane, but with a gender ratio of 1:15, the country probably had no choice but to be this pragmatic to maintain and grow the population.

In other words, men here are ultra-VIPs protected by the state, and women are worker ants who devote their entire lives to being chosen by those VIPs or obtaining even slightly better genes.

No wonder those arrogant brats are everywhere.

If so many girls grow up without knowing a father’s love, it’s no surprise they become obsessed with men.

"...Well, with people having such bad taste in men, you’ve got it rough too, sensei. I know you work hard every day. Here, eat this and cheer up."

With a bit of sympathy, I slipped a ramune candy into her apron and turned on my heel.

Leaving behind a frozen, red-faced Misaki-sensei, I headed toward Hoshikawa Aoi, who was alone on the swing.

Left behind, Misaki-sensei stood in front of the sandbox like a statue, speechless.

'...Huh? What was that just now? That was just encouragement from a child, right? Then why… why is my chest, my heart, pounding like it’s about to explode?'

Clutching the small ramune in her pocket tightly, Misaki-sensei’s face turned as red as a ripe apple, barely holding herself back from collapsing on the spot.

Faced with a five-year-old—and one of the same gender at that—she felt a stronger flutter than she ever had from any man in her life, leaving her completely shaken.

'I-if Shizuku-chan were a man twenty years older… no, even if she were still a girl… I would’ve definitely, absolutely fallen for her, even if it meant giving her all my possessions…'

To the exhausted heart of a 24-year-old adult, the "composure and consideration of a grown man" shown by this five-year-old tomboy was an overwhelmingly potent poison.

As for me, completely unaware of Misaki-sensei’s intense inner turmoil, I simply thought, ‘This world’s great, it’s full of cute girls just my type,’ as I headed toward my next target—well, the next friend to admire.