Chapter 1: Prologues Are Totally Unnecessary
Ding-a-ling!
Ding-a-ling!
In the haze of half-sleep, a jarring alarm clock blared, sounding as if it were right in Kobayakawa Hayato's ear.
"Hayato, time to get up, sweetie~"
A woman's voice called out.
Ding-a-ling!
The alarm kept ringing, relentless.
Unable to sleep through the noise, Hayato cracked open his eyes. Shielding them from the sunlight streaming through the window, he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. "An unfamiliar ceiling. Wait, isn't that line a bit too cliché?" he muttered.
Sitting up, Hayato's dead-fish eyes scanned the room. A pink quilt—cute enough to make anyone blush—covered him. Across from the bed, a computer screen displayed the endlessly drifting Windows XP logo, never quite hitting the corners.
He reached out from under the quilt to silence the incessant alarm on the nightstand. Hayato would bet his little brother that this was absolutely, positively, definitely not his room.
First off, he'd gone to sleep in 2021, when Windows XP was a relic of the past. Computers were running Windows 10, and even Windows 7 was on its last legs. No way would anyone still be using XP's classic but outdated system.
Second, he was a guy. Sure, he could tolerate pink in specific cases—like when savoring strawberry ice cream or binge-watching Kamen Rider (Decade's magenta, not pink, thank you very much!). But a pink quilt? That was a step too far.
…Or was it? Tilting his head, Hayato reconsidered. Actually, it's kinda nice.
Still, this didn't feel like a girl's room either. The corner cabinet was crammed with action figures and model toys, suggesting the occupant was an otaku with a passion for collectibles. But the walls? Plastered with posters of bizarre, hyper-realistic monsters.
A minotaur wielding an axe, a knight brandishing a sword, and a fishman with a spear could pass as characters from some fantasy blockbuster. But then there were the weird ones:
- A grotesque green creature covered in black triangles, with three necks sprouting mask-like heads.
- A dinosaur with chicken-like claws, a long, electrified horn for a nose, and a gaping, toothy maw splitting the back of its skull.
- A skeletal mammoth that looked freshly unearthed, a shaggy black beast, and a cloaked lion, among other oddities.
Staring at the posters, Hayato couldn't help but marvel. "Whoever brought me here has some wild tastes. Look at this! Even a tentacle monster? Yeesh, talk about niche."
Just then, the woman's voice called again. "Hayato, still not up? You're gonna be late~"
The closed door swung open, and the voice's owner stepped inside. Hayato turned to look.
A lovely woman with a gentle smile stood before him, a pale purple apron tied around her waist and a bamboo basket of laundry in her hands. "What's this? I've been calling you forever with no response. I thought you'd overslept again."
"Hayato… that's me?" he asked hesitantly. One thing was certain: he'd never seen this woman before today. It wasn't like he had a photographic memory (though he could probably recall the titles of ten thousand questionable novels). No, her face was just too striking to forget.
Lips like rose petals, eyes bright as stars, brows delicate and refined—she was the kind of beauty poets invented adjectives for. Her figure was a bit flat, sure, lacking much in the way of curves, but her graceful, almost aristocratic aura made up for it. If Hayato had met her before, he'd remember.
"Oh, you little rascal, playing tricks on me?" The woman chuckled softly, grabbing the doorknob. "Hurry up and change, then come downstairs for breakfast. I won't peek—I've got laundry to do."
As she closed the door, she added playfully, "Move fast, or I might eat your breakfast!
Teehee~" With a wink, she shut the door.
Hayato stared silently at his hands.
During their conversation, he'd noticed something odd. The woman wasn't short—he was just tall. Like, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure tall, easily over six feet, maybe even six-foot-five. Had crossing over made him grow?
Another realization hit: the woman knew him, acting like a familiar elder, but he had no memory of her. It dawned on him—his appearance probably hadn't changed much.
Looking at his hands, he froze. Holy—this isn't my body!
Rubbing his slender, elegant arms, he recalled a distinct scar on his left elbow from a burn. It was gone. His once-rough, slightly hairy skin was now smooth as silk.
It was almost like a girl's—
A horrifying thought struck him. Hayato yanked down his pajama pants and, by the window's light, checked below. He exhaled in relief. Thank goodness, my little brother's still there. No cosmic punishment for his earlier oath.
"So, what's going on? Did I isekai or something?" Grabbing clothes from the wardrobe, Hayato shed his pajamas, muttering to himself. "And seriously, a wardrobe stuffed with clothes, and they're all identical? Talk about a one-track fashion sense."
An open satchel sat on the desk, a blue jacket draped over the chair. Hayato put the computer into sleep mode, slung the jacket over his shoulder, grabbed the satchel, and headed out.
As he left, he glanced back at the posters. Some monsters looked familiar: a black-robed mage with a jade-green staff, a black dragon spewing flames, and a radiant white dragon embodying light itself .
Wanting to dig for more clues but mindful of the woman's warning, Hayato tore his gaze away, closed the door, and headed downstairs.