I Got Transferred to a World Where Chastity Is Reversed, and Even Though I Just Pretended to Be Innocent and Treated People Kindly, I Got Worshipped Like a “God” and Overwhelmed With Love ~At an Academy With a Gender Ratio of 1:1000, It Would Be Really Bad If They Found Out I’m Actually Insanely Stacked~ - Chapter 02: The Silent “Golden Class”

Chapter 02: The Silent “Golden Class”

The entrance ceremony ended, and Naoto was led to his classroom—Class 1-A.

The atmosphere there was clearly different from the other classrooms.

“Alright, Naoto-kun. This is your class. …Don’t worry. There isn’t a single rude student here who would do anything to frighten you.”

Sakuragi-sensei—their beautiful, busty homeroom teacher—said this in a calm voice that carried a faint hint of pleasure.

The moment the door opened, the “high-pitched screams” Naoto had braced himself for never came.

Instead, thirty-nine female students stood—or rather, sat—perfectly straight-backed, their uniforms immaculate and precisely worn.

Every single one of them possessed model-level beauty—yet their expressions were quiet and still, like Noh masks.

(…Huh? What is this atmosphere? Is this some insanely strict prep school or something?)

Naoto had no way of knowing.

These students had been selected from thousands of applicants across the prefecture and beyond—an elite among elites who had passed rigorous screening for intelligence, appearance, family background, and above all, self-control around men.

If, by any chance, Naoto were to stop attending school because of them—or worse, suffer mental trauma and develop ED—that would be a loss on a national scale, and spell ruin for their families.

That was why they were required to suppress their “hungry instincts” with iron will, and provide Naoto with a peaceful school life.

Of course, every girl in the class also secretly thought, If there’s even one chance, that’d be lucky—but that went without saying.

“Now then, we’ll start with a greeting from the class representative. …Saionji-san, please.”

Prompted by Sakuragi-sensei, the dignified black-haired beauty seated in the front row rose gracefully to her feet.

Saionji Kaguya.

Born to a distinguished family and blessed with both intellect and beauty, she was the pillar that kept this class in perfect order.

Her long black hair—so glossy it almost looked wet—flowed down to her waist, sometimes appearing deep navy depending on the light.

Her cool, narrow, upturned eyes carried an intelligent gleam, clear like gemstones, making her translucent white skin stand out all the more.

“…Pleased to meet you, Naoto-sama. I am Saionji Kaguya, appointed as class representative. I will take full responsibility to ensure your school life remains peaceful and without inconvenience…—or rather, I will support you.”

A flawless bow. A flawless tone of voice.

And yet, her fingertips trembled ever so slightly, and deep within her eyes burned a barely contained, seething heat.

Naoto would never know just how much behind-the-scenes maneuvering—and how many brutal, literal blood-soaked political battles—she had fought to claim the position of class representative.

To her, this seat was nothing less than the legal right to stand closest to Naoto.

“Ah, nice to meet you too. …Um, I’m Naoto. I’ll be in your care from today on. I still don’t know much about this academy yet, but… I’d really like to get along with everyone, so I hope you’ll teach me lots of things.”

Naoto smiled shyly and bowed deeply.

At that very moment, the classroom’s surface-level calm cracked—with a sharp, brittle sound.

(((((H-He wants to get along with us…!?)))))

A massive shockwave tore through the minds of all thirty-nine girls at once.

In this world, men usually either puffed out their chests and declared, “You should all worship me,” or clicked their tongues and sneered, “Tch, women.”

And yet, this boy—this treasure among treasures—had just reached out to meet them halfway.

Naoto’s polite, sincere greeting struck their hearts like a nuclear bomb.

“…I-It is an honor, Naoto-sama. Everyone, take his words to heart.”

Saionji forced her trembling voice under control as she addressed her classmates.

But the classroom’s reaction appeared muted.

The applause was sparse.

(…Huh? Maybe I’m not actually welcome? Was all that excitement on the train just my imagination?)

Naoto felt slightly deflated—but the reality beneath the desks was far more terrifying.

One student, overwhelmed with emotion, clenched her fist so hard she crushed her expensive mechanical pencil.

Another frantically adjusted the sensitivity on a concealed high-performance microphone, trying to secretly record Naoto’s voice.

Yet another burned every movement of his into her memory without blinking, stabbing her own thigh with a pin just to keep herself from passing out.

On the surface, they were calm, composed honor students.

But beneath that thin veneer, a storm of raw desire raged—an aching urge to cling to him, to breathe in his scent, to have their seed planted by him.

…

Break time.

While the other students deliberately kept their distance, watching from afar so as to “not cause Naoto any stress,” only Reika—the gyaru with wavy blonde hair—strode straight up to his desk.

Her big, wide eyes were lined with a mischievous flick at the corners, and from the loosened collar of her uniform peeked a youthful, well-shaped chest, displayed without hesitation.

“Yo, Naoto. I’m Reika. You look kinda down—what, did the people in this class piss you off with all their stuck-up vibes?”

Reika was a special selection—the only one chosen specifically for her “approachable attitude toward Naoto.”

At her casual way of speaking, murderous glares shot across the classroom (How dare she speak so informally to Naoto-sama!), but Reika paid them no mind.

“Ah, no, it’s not like that. Everyone just seems so mature and pretty… I was thinking I might be the one who stands out.”

At the word pretty, Reika’s long eyelashes fluttered.

“Huh? What are you talking about? Just having you here already means our reason for existing is fulfilled by, like, ten billion percent.…Here. I made this this morning. An onigiri. …There’s no poison in it or anything, so eat it.”

She handed him a slightly misshapen onigiri—but it was warm, clearly homemade.

Surprised, Naoto smiled and accepted it.

“Really? Thanks. I was actually pretty hungry. Reika-san, you’re kinder than you look.”

“W-What—!? I’m n-not kind! And it’s not like I’m trying to suck up to you or anything!” 

Reika’s face instantly turned bright red, like a boiled octopus.

Naoto took a bite and smiled even wider.

“It’s good.”

At that moment, the dam called self-control inside the classroom let out a faint cracking sound.

(Reika-san cut in line…! We prepared lunches too—after being trained by top-class chefs…!)

Meanwhile, a different kind of war was unfolding in the staff room.

“Sakuragi-sensei, you seemed awfully close to Naoto-kun earlier. That goes beyond what should be considered ‘guidance’ for a homeroom teacher.”

The one who pointed this out, glasses glinting sharply, was Himuro-sensei, the school nurse.

Her icy silver-blue hair was tied into a neat bun, and her sharp, intelligent eyes gave her a cold, no-nonsense air.

At first glance, she was the very image of a cool beauty—but beneath her white coat hid long model-like legs, a generous figure rivaling Sakuragi’s, and wide hips stretching her tight skirt to its limits.

“Oh my, are you jealous? Naoto-kun needs someone he can feel safe opening up to. …Of course, right here.”

She didn’t yield an inch, even as she wore a gentle, motherly smile.

“Oh really? Then a thorough checkup is in order. Naoto-kun will be coming to the infirmary after school today. …I won’t be letting him escape.”

Scoffing softly at Sakuragi’s provocation, Himuro traced a finger along the medical chart in her hand.

Under the pretense of “managing Naoto-kun’s health,” she had patiently waited for the perfect opportunity to bring him into the infirmary.

The P.E. teacher. The art teacher. Even the headmistress herself.

Every member of the staff was busy crafting plans as meticulous as military strategies, all centered around a single question: How could they get close to Naoto in a completely legal way?

On the surface, the academy was calm, gentle, and perfectly orderly.

But beneath that façade lay a quiet cold war—a clash of beautiful fanatics all orbiting a single “sun” named Naoto.

Completely unaware that he was, in effect, a man sitting inside the cage of the world’s most dangerous zoo, with every eye fixed tightly upon him, Naoto sank comfortably into his chair, which felt as soft as a plush sofa.

(…What is this school? Everyone’s so kind, and all the girls are beautiful. …This is amazing.)

The “monkey” inside Naoto wagged its tail in pure satisfaction.