BANG! Rumble rumble rumble… THUD!!

"That huuuurts!!?"

A dull pain mercilessly slammed into my entire body.

It felt like sparks were crackling at the edges of my vision.

After missing a step on the stairs at home, I had tumbled all the way down to the bottom in spectacular fashion, now writhing on the wooden floor as I clutched the back of my head.

"Ugh… I seriously thought I was gonna die… wait, huh?"

As I endured the throbbing pain, the voice that slipped out of my mouth felt intensely wrong.

What is this weirdly high yet slightly husky voice?

And what’s with these small hands?

They’re not the rough hands that used to get scraped up and sunburned from snowboarding in the mountains every weekend.

They’re white, soft, and squishy, like mochi—like a child’s hands.

"...Huh?"

Into my confused mind, like a dam bursting open, two sets of memories flooded in like a raging torrent.

One was my memory as a 26-year-old man who spent his weekends snowboarding in the mountains and lived a carefree life while working just enough on weekdays.

And the other—was the memory of a five-year-old girl named Nanase Shizuku, the very girl who had just fallen down the stairs.

As the memories of two lives collided and fused together in a shower of sparks, I lay face-down on the floor for a while, unable to move.

By the time the nauseating flood of information finally settled, I staggered to my feet.

“...No way. Did I seriously get reincarnated like in those trends?”

Rubbing my aching head, I walked toward the bathroom with familiar steps.

My viewpoint was strangely low.

My stride was short.

My center of gravity was completely different.

Standing in front of the sink, I stretched up and peeked into the mirror, and there—was the face of a young girl I didn’t recognize—no, one I had been seeing every day for the past five years.

"Whoa… looking at it objectively, this is insane."

A voice of admiration slipped out.

The girl in the mirror had large, mysterious purple eyes that sparkled like amethyst, far removed from typical Japanese features.

Her glossy, straight black hair perfectly matched the expression “jet-black like a raven’s feathers.”

Even though she was only five, her sharp and dignified features already promised a future as a stunning beauty.

This wasn’t some fantasy world.

As far as my memories went, this was definitely Japan on Earth.

However, it was slightly different from the reality I knew in my previous life.

Even pure Japanese people had a variety of hair and eye colors.

It was like Earth, but in a timeline where a bit of fantasy genetics had mixed in.

In fact, Nanase Shizuku’s mother had pale ash-gray hair.

"...Heh. Not bad."

I picked up a hair tie from the sink and roughly gathered my long black hair, which reached down my back.

With the same hand movements I had as a man in my previous life, I tied it tightly high on my head.

In the mirror, a cheeky little girl with a high ponytail—like a samurai, no, a female warrior—curved her lips into a grin.

"Yeah, perfect. Totally my type. A dignified beauty with a ponytail—can’t beat that."

Really, that’s my first thought as a former guy?

I mentally retorted at myself and let out a small sigh.

With my memories restored, the source of the lingering discomfort I had felt deep inside over these past five years as Nanase Shizuku finally clicked into place like puzzle pieces.

Even as a child, I had felt that something in this world was fundamentally wrong.

For example, the scenes at the kindergarten I attended.

The few boys in the class were treated with absurd overprotection by both parents and teachers, like sheltered princesses—or princes?

If one of them so much as tripped in the sandbox, the teacher would rush over in a panic, making a huge fuss over even a minor scrape.

And what about the girls?

To attract the attention of those rare and highly valued boys, even at just five years old, they were dressed up by their parents and forced into fierce, down-to-earth battles of appeal, trying to one-up each other.

"I’ll protect Hiroto-kun!" "No, Hiroto-kun will play with me!"

Scenes that rivaled daytime soap operas were an everyday occurrence.

Comparing it with my memories from my previous life, it was obvious at a glance.

That’s right—this world had an extremely skewed gender ratio of 1:15.

And as a result, the value of men had skyrocketed, creating a world where sexual morality was completely reversed.

Men who grew up either became arrogant, thinking they were gods, or turned into timid shut-ins, terrified by the gazes of countless women.

And the women devoted their entire lives to capturing those men.

"...What a joke."

I muttered in my husky natural voice, brushing my bangs aside.

A world where men are treated like gods?

A world where women desperately fight over men?

I couldn’t care less.

My body may have turned into a girl, but my heart is still that of a man.

And my romantic preference is 100% women.

I have zero interest in fawning over those spineless brats who act like being worshipped by women is a given.

If anything, spending time appreciating the cute and beautiful girls around me is tens of thousands of times more worthwhile.

Luckily, this world is full of beautiful girls just my type.

"Alright, decided. I’m gonna live this world the way I want."

If there’s some bastard making a cute girl cry, I’ll deal with him behind the scenes.

And if I find a girl I like, I’ll escort her properly and smoothly.

Using the common sense and behavior I developed as a man in my previous life, I’ll glide through this crazy world with ease.

"Shizuku!? I just heard a huge noise—are you okay!?"

Just as I was setting my life policy, hurried footsteps echoed and my mother rushed into the bathroom.

"Ah, Mom. Nah, I just fell down the stairs."

"What!? Down the stairs!? Let me see—are you bleeding!? Does anything hurt!?"

With panic written all over her face, my mother started touching my head and body all over.

"Hey, stop, stop. Only my head hurts. I’ve got a bump, so give me some ice. I’m fine otherwise."

"I… I? Shizuku, you’re calling yourself ‘I’ like that… and your way of speaking…" [TL: Basically saying he instead of she when referring to ‘her’self.]

My mother stared at me with wide eyes.

Crap.

With my past life memories back, my way of speaking had completely reverted to that of a 26-year-old man.

Until now, I had been talking more like, "I’m Shizuku, you know~," all cutesy and airheaded.

"Ah… I guess hitting my head kinda knocked something loose? I thought I’d go with this kind of character."

"What kind of character is that!? Did hitting your head mess you up!? We’re going to the hospital!"

"I’m not going, it’s a hassle. I’m fine. Totally fine."

I waved my hand dismissively, and my mother let out a deep sigh.

Then she frowned when she saw my newly tied hairstyle.

"And what’s with that hairstyle? I braided it so cutely before. If you dress like a boy like that, you won’t be chosen by a nice boy in the future, you know?"

There it is—the template line of women in this world.

"Be chosen by a man? Give me a break. I’ve got no interest in pandering to those weaklings."

"Wha—! Shizuku, how can you say that!? Men are treasures! You have to treat them gently and cherish them!"

"Yeah yeah, sure. If they’re treasures, go put them on a shrine or something. I’m going to get some ice."

Brushing off my mother’s scolding, I cracked my neck lazily and headed toward the living room.

Behind me, I heard her shout, "Hey, Shizuku! Listen when your mother is talking!" but I just raised a hand in response without turning back.

In this crazy world, I’ll enjoy things my way.

I don’t want to see men groveling for women.

I’ll be the one to make the women happy with these hands.

* * *

...At that time, I was completely underestimating it.

Just how much of a powerful drug it would be for the women of this extreme male-dominant society when someone like me—a perfectly ordinary 'former' man—naturally treated women with kindness and consideration.

How deeply the escorting and care I showed as if it were second nature would cause love-starved women to become intensely dependent.

—This was the moment of awakening for Nanase Shizuku, the woman who would later drive countless beauties into madness as the "peerless womanizer" and the "unintentional yuri production machine."