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

Chapter 8: Wanting to Know Her, Still Unknown

Waking up in bed again, it’s unsurprisingly the spacious room. I had thought this sleep might return me to my real world, but it seems this dream continues.

For now, this world feels kinder to me, so I don’t mind. The amount of conversation I’ve had with women is over a hundred times more than that in my reality, which is tough, but somehow, it feels like my life has more purpose.

Even if I talk about my interest in women’s bodies, at my core, I really just wanted to connect with the opposite sex.

The digital clock shows it’s Monday, April 1, 7:27 AM. I didn’t set an alarm, but this must be my rhythm here—I don’t feel sleepy.

I change from pajamas into a random long-sleeved shirt, head through the bathroom, and step into the living room.

Mother is already in a suit, leisurely reading a tabloid-sized morning paper, probably a financial one, on the living room sofa. Breakfast on the table is untouched—she might be waiting for me and Yuki.

Noticing me, Mother stands and says, “Ara, good morning, Shun-kun.” Hesitating over where to look, I return the greeting, and she sits at the table with a satisfied smile.

Her suit, with a slight gap at the blouse’s chest, makes my heart race. Joined by a late Yuki, I start eating breakfast, prepared by Yukari-san. It’s universal but comforting Western food—scrambled eggs, French toast, and the like.

Yukari-san only prepares the meal, not eating herself. Thinking back, it was the same on the first day—three servings for a four-person table.

“Um, Y-Yukari-san, you won’t eat with us?”

I hesitate over using her name but ask anyway. She’s tidying the kitchen after setting the table, not eating.

“I-I always eat separately, afterward!”

Yukari-san replies. I think eating together would be more efficient for dishes, and I worry she might feel lonely eating alone. It’s just my assumption, though.

At the same time, remembering my desire to know her, I cautiously make a suggestion. In my real world, I’d never propose anything to a woman, but being with this family makes me a bit bolder.

“Um, maybe next time, for breakfast or something… we could all eat together, when possible… how’s that…?”

It’s so clumsy I wonder if it’s my first time talking. With Mother and Yuki, I’ve started to feel a family connection, easing my tension a bit, but not with Yukari-san.

I see her as a beautiful older sister, slightly younger than my real-world self. Talking to someone like that, let alone suggesting something, is beyond me.

Still, she seems to understand my intent.

“Wha—uh, r-really, are you serious?”

She’s so shaken it makes me worry. I’m not one to talk, but I don’t understand why she’s so nervous around me.

I didn’t mention it to Mother or Yuki beforehand, but they both say, “If you’re okay with it, it’s fine,” accepting my suggestion. Their familial kindness sinks in, and I’m truly grateful.

Yukari-san bows so vigorously she nearly hits the table, and to me, it doesn’t seem malicious.

I’m honestly anxious that she might secretly hate me. But for now, it doesn’t seem so, so maybe I can hold a little hope in this world. At least these three women aren’t out to harm me.

Interacting with them, could the negative energy I still carry shift in a positive direction? Or will it stay despairing? If I stay in this world, I might see the outcome.

After breakfast, Mother heads to work. I cautiously say, “…Have a good day, Mother,” and she smiles happily, “Fufu, I’ll be back!”

Greeting someone and getting a response is something I’d forgotten, and I didn’t know it could warm my heart so much. It feels like I’m living a human life.

Yukari-san will be here until evening, working in her room and cleaning. So, I spend the morning with Yuki in the living room, commenting on TV or nodding to her school stories.

Yuki’s middle school—where I recently graduated—has a 1:9 male-to-female ratio, so she hasn’t talked much with boys.

She mostly hangs out with girls, and today’s outing is with her close female friends. When I ask what they talk about, she excitedly mentions fashion, TV, and good cafés.

I wanted to ask about love stories but lack the courage to bring up romance, especially with my sister.

With the gender ratio, she probably doesn’t have a boyfriend. Still, she’s so cute, it wouldn’t be surprising if she did.

A cute girl like her, in a T-shirt and shorts, talking to me one-on-one so openly—if I were my real-world self, I’d have to pay a fortune for this.

Honestly, I’m not confident I’m responding well to Yuki. I worry she finds me boring. It’s half fun, half difficult.

At noon, Yuki starts getting ready to go out. She puts a denim jacket over a cut-and-sew top and swaps to hot pants, looking youthful but undeniably a beautiful girl.

Her radiant bare legs catch my eye, as always, but I see her off. She says she’ll be back by 5 with a smile, closing the door. Like with Mother, our greetings warm my heart.

Now it’s just me and Yukari-san at home. She’s in her room, so I’m aimlessly pacing the living room.

I need to prepare for tomorrow with her help, but I lack the courage to approach her.

In my past, approaching women usually got me looks like, “What’s with this guy?” Yukari-san’s a housekeeper, so she shouldn’t do that, but those experiences still cast a shadow.

Still, I have to ask her for help with preparations since I know nothing. Steeling myself, I walk down the hall.

Earlier, Yukari-san said, “I-I’m in the room at the end, so if you need anything, please use this bell!” There’s a call button in the living room.

It felt like a nurse call at the time. But now, using it seems like treating her like an object, so I decide to go to her door.

Knocking on the vertical wood-grained door, I hear a pause, then patapata slipper sounds approaching. Even in the same house, entering a woman’s room makes me anxious as I wait for the door to open.

“Eh, Shun-sama, i-is something wrong with the cleaning?”

Yukari-san opens the door with a worried look and a flustered voice.

“No, uh… I was thinking, for tomorrow’s entrance ceremony, maybe you could help with preparations…”

As I explain, she shows a fleeting look of surprise, then seems apologetic.

“F-for that, you could’ve just used the bell, there was no need to come all this way…”

Her saying “come all this way” feels like she’s overestimating me. But since she mentioned the bell, maybe I should’ve used it, and I might’ve intruded on her privacy.

“…So sudden… it’s bad for my heart…”

I overhear her whisper, making me feel even guiltier. I really misjudged how to handle this.

Calmed down, Yukari-san asks me to grab a bag from my room and meet her in the living room. I go upstairs, find a student bag, and return. She’s already laid out a handkerchief and other items on the sofa, impressing me with her efficiency.

The bag already has pens and a folding umbrella, and I add her items. The high school provided a new anti-crime buzzer, which I attach to the bag’s hook. Apparently, squeezing it alerts the police automatically. Did my real world have such high-tech stuff?

Preparations take about ten minutes, and Yukari-san explains tomorrow’s schedule: the entrance ceremony, followed by class homeroom. She advises befriending the few boys early, says I don’t need to fear girls too much, but to keep distance if I feel strange looks.

After, she says, “W-well then, excuse me!” and stands to return to her room.

But I stop her, mustering my courage.

“Um, c-could I ask a bit more… I’m anxious, so… please…”

Stammering, I manage to say it. She looks surprised but says, “I-if that’s the case…” and sits back on the sofa. I feel bad for keeping her when she’s busy, but I’m glad I found the courage.

While asking about school life, I venture into her personal life. It might be creepy, but I convince myself she’ll forgive a little.

“…By the way, was your high school co-ed, Yukari-san…?”

She looks a bit hesitant but answers, and I’m relieved she doesn’t seem to mind.

“Uh, it was co-ed, but not in this prefecture. It was a bit far, but about the same size as North High, I think.”

She adds it was seven years ago, so I figure she’s around 24—slightly younger than my real-world self.

“Um, what was it like… like, clubs or after school?”

I realize “what was it like” is too vague and add specifics. I’m cautiously probing, worried she might dislike my questions.

“N-nothing too interesting, just studying and hanging out with girls. I-I was in the basketball club, but we weren’t particularly strong…”

I nod exaggeratedly to her slightly anxious words, following internet advice to overdo responses to women. It might be a mistake, though.

I’m slightly emboldened by managing a conversation with a woman, just a little.

“…I see. Someone as beautiful as you, Yukari-san, I thought you might’ve been close with boys, too…”

I realize my mistake after saying it. Choosing the worst possible words, panic surges. Even if she had close guy friends, no woman would be happy being called beautiful by me. If she didn’t, it’s just sarcasm. Cold sweat drips down my back to my waist.

I need to apologize. Yukari-san’s mouth is slightly open, her face red. Even as a housekeeper, she’d naturally be upset by harassment.

As I try to say sorry, she speaks.

“…M-me, beautiful? Th-that kind of flattery, I-I’m happy…”

She holds back anger and turns my words positive, which I’m grateful for—she’s a pro. But I still need to apologize.

“S-sorry… someone like me saying you’re beautiful must be troubling…”

She responds.

“No, that’s not true! I-I’m really happy, honestly, but I’m not the kind of woman who gets such words…”

She doesn’t seem to be lying, but her self-esteem feels too low. Boldly, I share my honest thoughts.

“No, really… I think you’re beautiful, your cooking’s delicious, your cleaning’s thorough… and your figure’s amazing…”

The last part was a mistake. I realize it mid-sentence, but it’s too late.

She’s in an apron, but her figure stands out. Her chest isn’t huge but has beautifully shaped breasts, her waist is slim from behind, and her jeans-clad hips are sizable.

A “childbearing” butt is a favorite in my fantasies, so I’m honestly drawn to her. Her upper body is model-like, but her hips exude sexual allure.

Her figure is genuinely great, but saying such crude things puts me in a bad spot.

Bracing for anger, I wait for her next words. Her face bright red, she almost shouts.

“…Th-that can’t be! Shun-sama, w-where do you think my figure’s good…?”

She seems to regret her reckless words, realizing they’re inappropriate for an employer’s son. Her face turns pale.

“S-so sorry! I-I said something outrageous, uh, w-what should I…?”

She’s flustered, but I decide to go all-in, my brain overheating from the conversation.

“Um, well, you’re really beautiful… and cute, but your figure’s so slim, like a model… you must work hard… it might not mean much coming from me, though…”

My vocabulary’s pitiful, but I say things I’d never say normally. I’m desperate now.

While I speak, she stares at my face. When I finish, she bows, hiding her red face.

“Uh, t-thank you for such generous praise…”

I think I’m not the kind of guy to say such things, but she continues.

“B-but, I said something rude to you, Shun-sama… p-please report me however you like, I-I’ll excuse myself!”

Tearing up, she stands to leave the living room. I’m not angry and try to stop her, instinctively grabbing her arm.

The moment my hand touches her right arm, she lets out a small “Ah” and loses balance. Thinking she’s in danger, I try to grab both arms to support her.

But I fail to hold her properly. In the end, my body catches her as she falls, and her chest presses firmly against my stomach.