"Good morning, young master."
"I'm up."
It was a perfectly ordinary morning. Like always, Takaha Itsuki was gently roused by his maid, slipped out of bed, and got dressed.
"Another day, another burst of youthful energy!" Itsuki stretched by the bedside, a little ritual he performed every morning to psych himself up.
The maid beside him watched him calmly as he got dressed. Even though she occasionally caught glimpses of his small, pajama-clad body, there was no hint of awkwardness in her expression. After all, it was just part of her job. She had long grown used to it.
Besides, Itsuki was only six years old. There was nothing to react to.
"Nami, is there anything on the schedule today?" Itsuki asked his personal maid, Nami Hoshigawa, as he rubbed his eyes. He had plans to go out, and needed to know if anything stood in the way.
Nami, only twelve herself, had been assigned as Itsuki's personal maid since he was an infant. She was given the role by none other than his adoptive mother, Takaha Aoi—who was, once upon a time, the runaway heiress who found him abandoned under the stars.
In a way, Nami and Itsuki had grown up together. He never attended kindergarten, receiving private lessons at home instead. But soon, he'd be attending elementary school—it was about that time. Nami would be starting middle school herself. Fortunately, the Takaha family didn't strip her of the right to study just because she was a maid.
"There's nothing on your schedule today, young master," Nami replied, standing straight and serious, shadowing his steps as he moved toward the sink to freshen up.
"Good. I want to head out today—could you file a request for me?" he asked.
Since being adopted by Aoi Takaha, Itsuki had become the only male heir of the Takaha main household. That fact alone explained why his grandmother—matriarch of the family—had once tried to arrange a son-in-law to marry into the family.
His grandmother, Riko Takaha, was the definition of a corporate titan. With her husband long gone—whether dead or just disappeared remained unclear—she'd run the household with an iron will.
Riko never doubted that Aoi, her daughter, could handle the Takaha legacy. But she knew the burden wasn't light. As one of the Four Great Conglomerates in Japan, the Takaha family wielded serious influence. Entrusting that power without adequate support? Dangerous.
That was why Riko had pushed for a political marriage—one that Aoi rejected flat-out by literally running away from home.
And ironically, that fateful decision had led her to finding and adopting Itsuki, a baby left to die in the snow. Because of him, Aoi stayed. Because of him, Riko didn't lose her daughter. The bond between them was no coincidence—it was destiny.
When Riko saw that her daughter had absolutely zero interest in marriage, she finally gave up. But now that she had a grandson—regardless of blood—everything changed. If Aoi wouldn't inherit the family legacy, then they'd raise Itsuki to do so.
Of course, none of them ever stopped to ask: Did the boy even want it?
Because the truth was—he didn't.
After learning the true nature of this world, all Itsuki wanted was a peaceful, ordinary life. Managing a megacorporation? Being groomed to inherit one of the country's most powerful families? No, thanks.
To him, that sounded like hell.
The only exception? One family name caught his attention—the Shinomiya Conglomerate.
Why? Because the Shinomiya family had a daughter named Kaguya Shinomiya, and they were the same age.
Yep, that Kaguya.
That little discovery was enough to spark the only flicker of curiosity he had about the world of Japan's elite. Everything else? Boring. Stressful. Exhausting.
He just wanted to enjoy life—read manga, watch anime, play games.
Which brought him to today's outing.
He wanted to find out whether this world had any of the stories, games, or manga he remembered from his first life. So far? Nothing. While the tech was similar—consoles like the PS3 or handhelds resembling Nintendo's—none of the games he remembered existed. Not a single one.
The same was true for anime, novels, and manga. All of it was foreign to him. The stuff that did exist? Mediocre at best.
"I'll submit your outing request, young master," Nami responded, bowing slightly. Her expression was serious, as always.
Though she was only six years older, Nami was already maturing fast. Her long black hair nearly reached her waist, and she wore the iconic black-and-white maid uniform straight out of an anime—except she wore it with unwavering sincerity.
Whenever she was on duty, she was composed and diligent, taking everything seriously. Off-duty? Slightly more relaxed, but not by much.
She'd been that way ever since they met. Even at six years old, she was already helping raise a newborn Itsuki under the guidance of another maid. And she did it well.
Of course, a normal child wouldn't remember much from that age. But Itsuki? He wasn't normal.
He was a two-time transmigrator.
That so-called "goddess" who screwed up and forced him into this third life had at least given him something useful in return: enhanced memory.
His recall had improved drastically. Old memories he'd once forgotten came flooding back. Manga plots. Anime arcs. Even full character monologues.
In his second life, he had briefly considered becoming a copycat author, replicating stories from his first life. But he'd forgotten too much—he remembered only vague outlines, not the details.
This time was different.
Now, Itsuki could remember it all—and he had a plan: to bring anime, manga, games, and novels from his first world into this one.
In short, to become the master of the ACGN world.
In his second life, he didn't act because the media of that world was still relatively fun and high-quality.
But this third world? It sucked. The anime? Boring. The novels? Shallow. The games? Absolutely lifeless.
Some people online joked about the world regressing fifty years in terms of entertainment. Itsuki wouldn't be surprised if this world really had regressed that far—if not more.
So today, his goal was simple: go out into the world, visit real bookstores and game shops, and see what this world had to offer—or didn't.
And if the world couldn't give him the stories he loved?
Then he'd bring those stories to it himself.