A black, unmarked one-box van glided smoothly along the Metropolitan Expressway in the early morning hours.

Its destination was a television studio located within the city.

Today was the filming day for the commercials I had previously signed for Sumeragi Foods—the shoots for Frozen Fried Rice and Frozen Gyoza.

Seated beside me in the back seat was Saotome, my dedicated personal bodyguard.

In the past, she would have treated every surrounding vehicle as a potential enemy, radiating sharp killing intent even during transit.

But today, she was different.

“…As for today’s studio, all staff members will be female.”

Saotome reported calmly while looking at her tablet.

Her profile no longer carried that former air of grim resolve, but instead possessed a quiet composure, like a calm sea without waves.

“A garden of women, huh… Sounds like it’s going to get noisy again.”

“Fufu. Yes.”

Saotome let out a small laugh.

That iron mask had smiled.

“Will they be able to endure Akutsu-sama’s ‘true strength,’ I wonder… It should be rather entertaining to watch.”

There was clearly a tone of detached amusement in her words, as if she were enjoying things from a higher vantage point.

Yesterday, I had revealed the secret of my ‘memories from a previous life.’

By sharing that, something inside her seemed to have snapped loose.

Rather than worrying excessively, she appeared to have awakened to a slightly mean-spirited hobby—enjoying the reactions of those around us who knew nothing.

“…You haven’t gotten more sadistic, have you?”

“No. I am simply predicting facts. We have arrived.”

The car stopped at the studio’s loading entrance.

When the door opened, it was already a battlefield.

“Kyah! It’s Jō-sama!”

“Good morning! You look wonderful today too!”

“Look at those upper arms! Such a feast for the eyes this early!”

The female staff waiting there stirred the instant they saw me.

Rather than yellow cheers, it was closer to the roar of carnivorous beasts spotting prey.

I instinctively stepped back, but Saotome calmly moved in front of me, efficiently securing a clear path.

“Target passing through. Please make way.”

Her voice was cold, but no longer threatening like before.

Instead, it carried a confident superiority that said, ‘I won’t let you touch him.’

“Oh my, Jō-sama! We’ve been expecting you!”

Greeting us at the dressing room entrance was the client herself, President Reiko Sumeragi.

Dressed flamboyantly as always, she fanned herself vigorously.

“Today’s commercial is our company’s all-in masterpiece! The theme is ‘The Wildness of Men’! Please unleash yourself to your heart’s content!”

“Unleash myself… I’m just cooking, right?”

“Fufufu. That may be true for ordinary people… but you can create a ‘legend’!”

With a knowing smile, Reiko pushed me into the makeup room.

* * *

Several dozen minutes later.

Having changed into costume, I stood within the studio set.

The setting was ‘a run-down Chinese restaurant.’

My outfit consisted of a black tank top, a stained apron tied at the waist and a twisted headband—a stubborn Shōwa-era old man look.

However, in this world, a man exposing his muscles in a tank top was apparently an act bordering on an R-rating by itself.

“Haa… amazing…”

“That trapezius… I want to bite it…”

The gazes of the female staff surrounding the set stabbed into my skin with physical heat.

At that moment, the female director shouted through a megaphone.

“Alright! Let’s begin the ‘Frozen Fried Rice’ version! Jō-san, please toss that wok! As wild as possible! Masculine and bold!”

“Got it.”

I stood before the stove.

Prepared there was a commercial-grade iron wok with a diameter of at least thirty-six centimeters.

It was heavy.

Normally, it was far beyond what the weak men of this world could handle.

Usually, a lightweight dummy or piano wires would be used for assistance at this size.

But I grabbed it with one hand.

‘This weight brings back memories.’

The iron sensation I had swung day after day in my previous life’s kitchen.

It fit my hand perfectly.

“Here we go.”

I slammed the wok onto the stove and cranked the heat to maximum.

Oil poured in, eggs followed.

Juwaaah!!

With an explosive sizzle, a fragrant aroma filled the studio.

Rice followed immediately.

Now was the real battle.

“Hmph!!”

Using a sharp snap of my wrist, I tossed the heavy wok into the air.

Gakon! Gakon! Za, za!!

Amid the violent metallic sounds, golden rice danced in a beautiful arc through the air.

Flames licked the wok’s surface, illuminating my face.

The instant they saw it, the studio air froze.

“N-No way…”

“That iron mass… with one hand!?”

“I can’t believe it… what kind of strength is that!”

Screams mixed with cheers erupted.

By this world’s standards, it was impossible for a man to handle such weight so rhythmically.

My biceps bulged with every toss, veins standing out clearly beneath the tank top.

Sweat scattered, muscles danced under firelight.

To them, it was an unprecedented torrent of absolute power.

“C-Cut!!”

The director screamed in a flipped-over voice.

“Perfect! Perfect, Jō-san! Those veins! That sweat! Everything is art!”

She gave a thumbs-up while bleeding from the nose.

‘Was this set really okay?’

* * *

Next came the gyoza tasting scene.

Freshly grilled, piping-hot gyoza and a mountain of fried rice were laid out.

“Next is the ‘eating’ scene! No elegance needed! Devour it on instinct like a beast tearing into prey!”

“You’re asking a lot…”

With a wry smile, I dropped heavily into the chair.

Like a beast, huh.

Well, that’s how a man eats.

I grabbed a gyoza with my chopsticks and shoved it straight into my mouth without dipping it in sauce.

Crunch. Juwa.

Scalding meat juices flooded my mouth.

Normally one would flinch, but I didn’t move a muscle, chewing while letting out white breaths.

Then I scooped a heaping spoonful of fried rice with the renge and crammed it in.

Gatsu gatsu, mogu mogu.

Oil smeared my mouth as I swallowed loudly.

I downed a glass of water in one go and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

Then I fixed the camera with a sharp glare.

“…Tastes good.”

My low voice echoed through the silent studio.

“Anyone got a problem, I’ll shut them up with this wok.”

As an ad-lib, I clinked the ladle beside me.

At that moment—

“Buhh!!”

The director watching the monitor sprayed a fountain of blood from her nose and collapsed backward.

The cameraman beside her crumpled to his knees, eyes rolled back.

All around the studio, staff fell one after another amid delirious murmurs like “haaahn…” and “male… too strong…”

“Hey, what’s wrong!?”

I jumped up in a panic.

Food poisoning? No, no one else had eaten yet.

“Akutsu-sama, please do not worry.”

Amid the chaos, Saotome alone remained calm, applying an ice pack to the fallen director while speaking to me.

“It appears the ‘stimulation’ was simply too strong for them.”

“Stimulation? Did I put too much garlic in the gyoza?”

“No. Not garlic… but an overdose of you, an extremely potent drug.”

Behind her sunglasses, Saotome’s eyes narrowed in amusement.

‘……Fufu. It’s no wonder they’re overwhelmed.’

Looking down at the fallen female staff, she basked in quiet superiority.

‘They don’t know. They don’t know how fundamentally different he is from the soft men of this world. That his soul is a polished male forged in a previous life.’

It was the sweetest nectar reserved only for those who knew the secret.

“Still, are they all anemic? Do they even eat properly?”

Genuinely worried, I helped an unconscious AD drink some water.

“Ahh… Jō-sama’s water…” the AD murmured blissfully before fainting again.

“Yes, they’re probably lacking nutrition.”

Saotome smirked and efficiently began restoring order on set.

And so, the commercial shoot that plunged the entire studio into frenzy and anemia ended successfully, albeit with numerous ‘casualties.’