(A/N: This is my first-time writing a novel. In the beginning, there will be mistakes or maybe stiff tone in the writing and such, so I would really appreciate if you all point them out and be patient with me 🙏)
(A/N: Also, all kinds of suggestions will be very much appreciated. If you find any inconsistency, any problem or anything, please comment. I will be sure to check it)
*****
The morning sun filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the Kamishiro estate, painting the spacious bedroom in soft, muted gold.
The light didn't simply illuminate the room — it seeped into every corner slowly and gently, as if even the dawn hesitated to disturb the quiet luxury that wrapped around everything like a warm embrace. It danced across polished mahogany surfaces, brushed teasingly over silk sheets, and settled over the vast space with an almost suffocating elegance.
For Kamishiro Renji, however, that gentle glow wasn't just a wake-up call. It was a revelation, and not a gentle one. More like reality reaching down and smacking him awake without warning.
He bolted upright in his king-sized bed, gasping sharply as though he had just broken the surface after nearly drowning. His chest heaved uncontrollably for several long seconds, heart pounding against his ribs. The soft mattress dipped under his sudden movement, and the expensive sheets slid down his bare torso, pooling around his waist. He barely noticed any of it.
A rhythmic throb pulsed through his skull, but it wasn't mere pain. It was data, a torrent of memories flooding in all at once. Not the kind you could sort through calmly. This was a full-blown information overload, like someone dumping an entire hard drive straight into his brain without permission.
Memories of another life crashed over him. A life spent in a completely different world. A life that, compared to this absurd luxury surrounding him now, felt almost comically miserable. Dull, suffocating, painfully ordinary. He had been barely college-aged back then, yet couldn't even afford to attend university if he wanted to keep his stomach full. Tuition or food — pick one. That had been his daily reality.
A world of dead-end part-time jobs, lonely nights, and an obsessive dedication to galgames. They had been his only real escape from the crushing monotony. And not just casual playing. No, this was full-on, borderline unhealthy dedication. Route analysis, dialogue memorization, optimization strategies… he had practically turned escapism into a part-time profession.
The last game he had been grinding, Love Bloom Academy, flooded his mind soon with perfect clarity. Scene after scene replayed in vivid detail — the branching routes, the heroines, the subtle flags that decided everything. Those memories merged seamlessly with the eighteen years he had already lived in this world, reshaping him, or perhaps simply awakening something far more than he had ever been.
As the flood of memories settled, Renji felt a deep wave of gratitude wash over him.
In his past life, he had been completely alone — an orphan with no family, no one to come home to, no one who cared whether he ate or struggled through another empty day. But here… he had this warm, beautiful family. Parents, who made sure that their family won't have any problems, and two lovely and incredibly cute sisters who looked up to him, a grand estate filled with quiet comfort, and people who genuinely depended on him. The contrast hit him hard. He was blessed beyond words. After years of crushing loneliness, waking up to a loving family who waited for his attention felt like the greatest gift imaginable. He wouldn't take it for granted anymore.
Gradually, the headache eased. The sharp pain receded like a retreating tide, leaving behind a crystalline clarity in its wake. And what replaced it was something far more dangerous than confusion — pure, unshakable confidence.
Renji swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and stood, moving with slow, deliberate control, as if he were still testing whether this new body truly belonged to him. He crossed the room to the full-length mirror that dominated one corner of the expansive space.
His reflection stared back — and it was nothing like the tired, average guy from his previous memories. This was Kamishiro Renji in the present. A genetic masterpiece.
The difference wasn't just noticeable. It was almost insulting. No, calling it a "difference" felt like an understatement. This was a complete overhaul.
He stood at a commanding 186 centimeters, and even standing still he looked like he belonged on a high-end magazine cover rather than in a bedroom. Every line of his body flowed naturally into the next. His frame was defined by the lean, densely packed muscle of a competitive swimmer — broad shoulders tapering down to a tight, sculpted V-line waist. His skin was flawless, carrying the healthy, sun-kissed glow that only came with wealth and privilege. Jet-black hair fell in artfully messy waves that framed a face carved from marble: high cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and piercing dark blue eyes that held a calm, intelligent depth.
His gaze drifted lower, guided by the lingering instincts of his past life. Almost instinctively, he hooked a thumb into the waistband of his silk boxers and tugged the fabric down just enough to reveal what waited beneath.
A slow, smug grin spread across his lips.
'Holy crap…' he thought, genuinely awestruck. 'The game developers really didn't hold back, did they?'
What he saw wasn't just impressive, it was a weapon designed for conquest. The shaft was thick and heavy, resting with a substantial, dormant weight against his thigh. Even in its relaxed state, it promised a level far beyond anything from his old life. Easily twenty-three centimeters of vascular, threatening potential when fully aroused. Beneath it hung a heavy, full set that completed the picture of absolute virility, promising stamina that could go on for hours. He let the waistband snap back into place with a soft sound, the deep satisfaction settling warmly in his gut.
'This is dangerous…' he mused silently, eyes narrowing with amusement. 'Like… genuinely dangerous. If this is the standard, I might accidentally ruin someone's life just by existing.'
He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temple as he tried to rein in the surge of raw confidence threatening to overwhelm him.
'Stay calm. We are not abusing this immediately.'
A beat of silence passed in his mind.
'…Probably.'
"Anyway," he whispered to himself, testing the name on his tongue, "so that's what I, Kamishiro Renji, am supposed to do…"
He said it like he was reading a job description he had zero intention of following.
"The perfect best-friend type. The rich, handsome, ultra-reliable guy who never gets the girl because he politely steps aside for the protagonist."
In simple terms — the guy who did everything right… and still lost.
He ran a hand through his messy black hair and let out a low, genuine laugh. Not loud or wild, but quiet and entertained, as if the sheer absurdity of his situation was too much to ignore.
"To think I'd get this kind of second chance… Honestly? My old life was worth shit. This… this is the most massive upgrade in human history."
He paused, considering it for a moment, then shook his head lightly with a smirk.
"Maybe that's why I'm not bothered at all. That life really was worth shit…"
The conclusion was simple and liberating.
The script of Love Bloom Academy flashed through his mind as he compared timelines. Today marked the first day of the third year at Kosei Academy — the final year of high school. In the original game, this year was pivotal. The dense but strangely effective protagonist, Hoshino Takumi, would finish establishing connections with all the heroines while Renji simply smiled supportively from the sidelines like the perfect wingman.
Renji's expression flattened.
"…Yeah. No."
That wasn't happening anymore. He was done acting like the distant, perfect older brother from the game script. From now on, he would live freely — warmer and more genuine, especially with the family he was lucky enough to have.
Just as the thought settled, his phone buzzed sharply on the nightstand, cutting through the quiet room. He glanced at the screen.
[Takumi]: YO RENJI!!! Wake up!!! New semester starts today! Youth awaits! Also, can I borrow your math books? I forgot to buy them lol.
If he hadn't awakened his past life memories, he would have sighed, offered a helpless but fond smile, and immediately texted back to fix Takumi's mess. But now…
Renji simply stared at the message for a second, then deleted it without replying.
"No…" he murmured, a slow, amused smile curving his lips. "I think I'm done playing the wingman role. At the end of the day, it's all about the choices I make from here on."
He turned back toward the mirror. As he did, something strange flickered in his vision — a translucent blue window, like a game UI, popped up beside his reflection.
[Greetings]
[Unique Skill: Empathy Insight (Unlocked)]
[Goodbye]
Renji blinked, leaning closer to the glass to make sure he wasn't hallucinating from the overload. The window stayed, hovering comfortably in his peripheral vision.
"Insight?" he murmured. "Insight about what? Some kind of emotional stat check?"
He focused on his own reflection experimentally.
[Target: Kamishiro Renji]
[Status: Awakened]
[Current Mood: Amused / Angry / Ambitious]
[Hidden Desire: Domination]
"…Wow."
He blinked once. Then again.
"…We're just putting that out there, huh?"
A quiet laugh escaped him. Honestly, he couldn't even argue with it. This changed everything. In the original game, Renji had been designed as "perfect" only so the clumsy protagonist would look better by comparison when the heroines inevitably chose him. But here, with memories from another world, this unbelievable body, and now a genuine cheat skill, things were going to be very different.
If the skill worked as he suspected, he would be able to read the emotional states, hidden desires, and fears of everyone around him. Not just himself. That made it far more useful… and far more dangerous.
He moved to his walk-in closet and selected his Kosei Academy uniform. He dressed with deliberate care, leaving the top button of his white shirt undone to expose just a hint of collarbone, suggestive without being sloppy. He rolled the sleeves up to his mid-forearms, highlighting the vascular lines of his wrists and hands, then spritzed on his signature cologne, a crisp blend of cool mint and expensive citrus that lingered in the air like a subtle invitation.
He wasn't going to be anyone's wingman anymore. It was time to take this life for a joyride — living it according to his own desires, not according to some predetermined script.