A Man Who Lost Confidence, to a Gentle Chastity-Reversed World

Chapter 4: Breakfast with Mother and Sister

From her words, I learn this house has at least two floors and that I have at least two family members. Gathering bits of information, I tell the woman in front of me that I’ll go eat breakfast.

The housekeeper (tentatively) stammers but tells me, “P-please change out of your pajamas and come downstairs!” before hurriedly leaving the room.

If I don’t wake up from this dream soon, will I see her again? For a dream, it’s dragging on quite a bit.

Rummaging through the room’s drawers, I find neatly organized clothes. In my real world, I just stuff clothes into the dresser, so I’m almost impressed.

The clothes don’t seem much different from my real world. They’re all long-sleeved shirts and pants with no skin exposure, probably because the digital alarm clock shows it’s March.

The date displayed right now is the day after I fell asleep in my real world. Even in a dream, I might be carrying over the sense of time from reality.

I pick out some light clothing and head downstairs. The staircase leads directly to a bathroom, so I wash my hands and face, check my appearance, and head toward the lit-up area.

The lit-up area is the living and dining room. It feels spacious and incredibly clean. On the dining table, breakfast is already prepared.

At a table with four chairs, three have ideal Japanese breakfasts set before them: one soup, three side dishes. Probably made by the housekeeper from earlier.

The warm-looking miso soup and freshly grilled mackerel stimulate my appetite just by looking at them. Lately, I’ve found cooking too bothersome, only eating pre-made bentos or side dishes, barely tasting anything, just refueling calories.

Maybe my psyche is craving human warmth, at least in a dream. As I approach the table, an unfamiliar woman’s voice calls out, almost as if coming from above.

“Good morning, Shun-kun.”

Looking up, I see a woman, likely my mother, smiling at me. She’s completely different from my real mother.

She looks to be in her early thirties, with slight crow’s feet but undeniably beautiful. Her curled long hair and full lips give off the vibe of a model in a magazine for middle-aged women.

Could she really be my mother? I’m a bit shocked when another voice chimes in.

“Hey, Shun-nii, morning!”

The voice is brimming with youth and utterly adorable. Startled, I turn to see a girl about 160 cm tall, flashing me a smile.

Her long hair is tied in a side ponytail, and her large eyes, small lips, and flawless skin make her look quintessentially girlish and charming. Her brightness makes me imagine she’s the popular girl in class.

She must be Yuki, probably my younger sister. She doesn’t feel like an older sister or aunt.

“…Good morning, both of you… s-sorry for making you wait…”

Nervously, I respond while gauging their reactions. I don’t know our relationship or how close we are, and I can’t even speak casually to women.

I sometimes want to get close to women, but even when I feel that way, my heart’s weakness makes me pull back. That’s something that’ll never change.

“Eh, Shun-kun?”

“…Shun-nii said good morning…?”

Both react similarly to the housekeeper. What kind of person have I been in this dream? Not knowing makes my anxiety grow.

“Fufu, it’s been years since you properly returned a greeting, hasn’t it?”

“Ehehe, Shun-nii said good morning to me!”

Yuki mutters as if her favorite idol just glanced at her. Even in a dream, it’s completely unrealistic for a beautiful girl like her to get excited over my greeting.

Do these two harbor no hostility toward me? In this house, am I treated decently in this dream’s setting?

Holding a faint hope for this dream, I quietly start eating the rice and mackerel.

Their conversation revolves around things like my upcoming entrance ceremony, worries about me attending a co-ed school, or telling me to rest today—mostly concern for me. Both watch me eat with warm smiles.

But being worried about because it’s a co-ed school suggests I must be pretty weak. Or maybe I’ve been bullied by girls in this dream’s past.

Bullying from classmates happened to me in reality, especially in middle school, a time I don’t want to remember. That’s when I started struggling with talking to girls, and since then, my conversations with women have been limited to bare necessities.

But I’m also a bit of a repressed pervert. I get excited looking at women’s chests or hips on the street, aroused by attractive women.

Even in minimal conversations, I’d sneak glances at their bodies. That behavior made talking to women even harder, and in the end, I became a creepy monster lost in fantasies.

Lost in trivial recollections, I finish breakfast and return to my room. They suggested spending time together in the living room, but I have no confidence in talking to women.

Brushing off their offer by saying I want to rest, my mother says, “We’ll be in the living room for a while.” I nod silently and head back to my second-floor room.

Truthfully, I have something I want to do. I want to investigate this dream’s world and its common sense.

Back in my room, I start up the laptop and begin searching. I wonder if it’s a bit early for a high schooler to have their own laptop, though.