In his first life, Kenjirō was sixty-five years old, retired from a desk job, and outwardly unremarkable—except for his two great treasures. First was his boundless love of fiction: anime, manga, novels, films, folktales, you name it. He absorbed stories like air, filling his shelves with every kind of fantasy he could find. Second was his thick, jet-black hair, still untouched by time, which he flaunted with quiet pride while his peers grumbled about bald spots.
When death came, Kenjirō expected nothing but sleep. Instead, he awoke beneath an alien sky, surrounded by buildings and and a grimy atmosphere. His chest thumped with excitement—this was it. The otherworld he had always dreamed about.
But when he looked at his hands, he saw wrinkles. When he tried to stand, his knees cracked like old wood. He was still sixty-five. The "isekai dream," it seemed, had forgotten to reset his age. Only his magnificent hair survived the journey in full glory.
As Kenjirō groaned and muttered about unfair tropes, a faint chime echoed in his mind:
[Template System Online.]
----------[geezer System]----------
Name. [Taiga Ken]
Age.[65]
Acc bal. [$100,000]
Gacha. [ 1 draw every month]
Templates. [Slot1] [slot2]
Completed [...]
Gift pack [2 gacha card, $60,000, legal documents]
...…
A strange menu hovered before him..his status, his wealth from his past and more...gacha roles pulled straight from the stories he loved. Not raw power, but templates, granting skills and quirks to match whichever character he pulled.
Kenjirō squinted, then chuckled. "So I'm not the chosen one. Fine. He ruffled his glorious hair, straightened his back, and took his first creaky steps into adventure—an old man armed with nothing but fiction, his cane, and a system that turned characters into tools for his use.