No. 69, Kitabashicho.
I stood in front of the building with a deep breath and the kind of tension that made even my socks feel tight.
"…This is it."
I glanced down at my phone, confirming the address for the fifth time. It matched.
No. 69, Kitabashicho. An address that sounded like it came out of a lewd manga. The name was already teasing me. Was this fate foreshadowing? Could I seriously handle having a perverted address like this for an entire year?
Already, I was doubting my decision to move. It was clear what had drawn me here in the first place: the low price, the small size, and the quick and easy location, only three minutes by train from the center of Tokyo. My reasoning still stood. But what was supposed to be an exciting move into an expensive city on my own had suddenly become something else.
Despite being nineteen, legally an adult, this was my first time living alone. I was dragging two suitcases behind me—one large, one small, and both overstuffed with the reckless optimism of a guy who thought he'd need six packs of instant curry for survival. If this turned out to be a bad choice, all responsibility was on me.
Before me stood a three-story old-fashioned apartment. It looked like something out of a Showa-era drama. The awning on the windowsill was sun-bleached, the guardrails had embraced rust like an old friend, and the walls had clearly seen better decades.
In short, it was charming in a way that said: you're broke, but welcome home.
But hey, this is Tokyo. If you can find a private room with a door, it's already a win. As long as it wasn't next to the tracks or above a sex shop, I would be thrilled with a moldy hole in the ground.
Looking up at the building again, I almost wished the landlord were ugly, not least because I would feel ridiculous if they were intimidated by my drab appearance. I was dressed in pajamas because I was too afraid to be wrong.
"Are you… Mr. Ginjo?"
A voice sweet enough to melt mochi called out, and I turned around.
Holy mother of all apartment managers!
The woman striding toward me was gorgeous. Probably around thirty—but with the skin of a twenty-something and the chest of a gravure model. Her white blouse was modest in theory, but every button strained like it was begging for a wardrobe malfunction. Her tight blue jeans hugged her like they'd been painted on. Her long black hair was tied into a neat braid, swaying with every step like a hypnotist's pendulum. As she approached, she wore an uneasy smile. She was the picture of lovely and delicate and elegant, but her beauty was so overwhelming, I suddenly felt like a two out of a possible ten.
She smiled with professional poise and devastating charm. I was already half in love.
The mere sight of her was enough to pierce a man's heart.
"I'm Matsumoto Tomoko," she said. "We spoke on the phone yesterday. Welcome to your new home."
"Ah, um… I'm Ginjo Sosuke. Thank you for… for everything, honestly. The small fee and the high rent—it was a huge help for a newcomer like me. I'm very grateful. Please take care of me."
I bowed deeply to Tomoko, who seemed slightly surprised by my sudden display of reverence. She took a step back.
Maybe most young adults would be too embarrassed or proud to lower their heads, but my situation in Tokyo would have been unthinkable without Tomoko accepting such a low price. Unless I constantly reminded her, I was afraid that my genuine gratitude might start to be taken for granted.
Gulp. Now that I realized just how much Tomoko's first impression of me mattered, I regretted leaving the house in PJs and slippers.
But if she already had low expectations of me, it might not be too late to revise them. I couldn't turn back the clock on my clothes, but my body, my self-presentation...those were things that I could control.
She reached for my smaller suitcase. "Long trip, huh? Let me help you with this."
I lifted the luggage out of her reach. If I didn't establish dominance soon, my reputation would sink below the world's expectations. "That's okay," I said. "I'll take this one. Let me take care of the heavy load."
Normally, I would've tried to play up a relaxed side, but in this case, being overly kind would come off as spineless.
She waved off my protest with a laugh that tickled the edges of my soul and said, "Nonsense. We're going to be neighbors, aren't we? Let's help each other out. You can carry the big one."
With that, she turned on her heel and headed toward the stairs, her tight jeans framing a view that deserved a moment of silence. I heaved the large suitcase and scampered after her like a moth to flame while trying not to look too obvious.
Was it wrong for a man to be this enchanted with a woman's ass? We're animals, after all—and this was just the natural behavior of a young boy reaching physical maturity.
And then—
Ding!
A light blue panel appeared in front of my eyes, like a heads-up display from some dating sim.
[Beauty Favorability System Activated…]
[Scanning target…]
[Name: Matsumoto Tomoko]
[Stamina: 60]
[Charm: 90]
[Current Favorability: 70]
[+1 Favorability = ¥1000 reward]
Oh great. This damn system again.
Two months ago, I was just a regular village boy in a sleepy Hokkaido fishing town when BAM—truck-kun didn't hit me, but life did. I woke up one day with this absurd system in my head. It rewards me for "helping beautiful women in need."It displays new messages like some sort of GPS guiding me toward targets, and I collect yen whenever I succeed.
Of course, the system had "standards."
Only women who rated high enough in charm—read: hotness—got tracked by the system.
Its intro still rang in my ears like an embarrassing voicemail:
"Is that a lost beauty in distress? A lonely milf needing companionship? The system exists to help such women, and in turn… help you."
Yeah. Real noble.
What a nasty bastard, giving a rookie like me something this volatile.
The problem was, my village had like… two qualifying targets. And one of them was my homeroom teacher. So I transferred to Tokyo, with dreams of a busty urban renaissance.
Now, here I was, staring at Favorability: 70 right off the bat. Was I that charming?
Well, I was tall, sun-kissed from years of fishing, and had a jawline that could cut tofu. My sleeveless shirt clung to well-earned muscle from hauling nets instead of hitting the gym. Yeah, I was hot stuff.
Even so, seventy? This apartment manager was clearly into me. Not that I'm complaining.
This thing couldn't change our chemistry. At its best, all it would do was lead me to women that had a natural bias toward a man like me.
We reached the third floor—no elevator, but hey, my legs were still young—and stopped in front of the room farthest down the corridor.
"Room 303," she said, jingling the key. "Your new kingdom. Go check it out, Ginjo-kun. "
She opened the door to reveal… a surprisingly clean room. A wall kitchen by the entrance, a modest living room, a small bathroom, and a bedroom a few steps away.
White walls, clean glass windows, new light fixtures. There was no doubt this room had been spruced up for me. It was cozy. Warm. It felt…like home.
I dragged in my suitcase with the rest of my belongings and gave the room a spin. Every corner was full of charm and potential. My shoes were perfectly arranged in the entryway. There were even hangers in the closet. I didn't trust myself to live like this on my own, which meant Tomoko must have cleaned up for me in advance. What a luxury.
"So, what do you think, Ginjo-kun? I did a little bit of tidying so it looked less like an office on auction. "
"It's great," I assured her. "But I'd be just as happy if I woke up and the room was as dirty as it was this morning. You're really saving me a lot of work by taking care of this in advance. I'd honestly be willing to give you extra for the room at a slightly higher price."
Again, Tomoko looked taken aback.
"Ginjo-kun, I didn't accept your rental fee because I wanted more money," she replied. "It's because you seem like a good kid. You don't mind if I've shared an apartment building for five years, and being close to the station is amazing for any young man in his first job."
Something in my heart melted, and this time it wasn't because of her beauty. Right then and there, a feeling took hold of me.
I was going to try and flirt with Tomoko. Just a little, nothing crazy. That two-digit favorability rating of hers—and those killer thighs—sent a little shiver through my body, like the hint of a breeze.
But before I could even say anything more, she spoke.
"Wonderful. We'll settle rent and key money whenever you're ready. No rush."
What kind of magical landlord was she?
While I moved my suitcases inside and began to unpack, I noticed Matsumoto-san hesitating, her mouth opening and closing like she was about to say something but thought better of it. Was this really the kind of woman who believed in not overworking herself? Or was there something else on her mind?
Ding!
The system detects target Matsumoto Tomoko may require assistance.]
[She appears lonely… and is thinking of inviting you to dinner.]
[Complete task for +¥5000]
I paused.
So that was it. When Matsumoto-san hesitated, the system made sense of the pause, right down to the fact that she wanted to invite me somewhere. And if that was true, that was a pretty amazing show of speed. It appeared my expectations were the only thing holding me back.
But still.
I wasn't about to make things awkward and invite myself on my first day.
"Um… Matsumoto-san, is there a convenience store nearby?"
"Ah—yes. Turn right from the apartment and walk about 500 meters. Did you need something?"
"I'm a little hungry. Was thinking of grabbing a bento."
She frowned, and then her lips curled upward in that gentle smile again.
"How about this instead? If you're not busy, would you… like to have dinner with me tonight?"
Score.
"Would that be alright?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager.
"I'd love the company," she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "My daughter's off at college now, so I usually eat alone."
So that was the loneliness the system meant.
"Wait, you have a daughter in college? But you look like you're barely thirty…"
"Oh, Ginjo-kun," she giggled, fingers fluttering to her lips. "You're quite the flatterer. I'm almost forty."
A blush bloomed across her cheeks, and I swear I saw sparkles pop in the air.
To hear the landlord was an actual MILF felt like being swept up into a fever dream.
[Target Favorability +1]
[Reward: ¥1000]
[Current Favorability: 71]
Hah. Eternal truth confirmed: every woman, no matter the age or country, loves being told she looks younger than she is.
"I'll finish unpacking and head over soon," I said.
"Perfect. I'm in Room 101 on the first floor. Anything you can't eat?"
"Nope. I'll eat anything."
"Good boy. I'll start preparing. See you soon, Ginjo-kun."
She turned around, flipping her hair and flashing me the best side angle. My eyes popped. She was about as old as my favorite school teachers, but her ass had a youthful definition in those tight jeans. I may not have found my promised land yet, but the first fruits of my labor were approaching.