As for why he chose this essence, the reason was simple—he had always wanted to meet and date movie or anime heroines, to spend time with them and have fun. But in reality, he was socially awkward after a long life as a shut-in.
Even though he was tall and had an above-average face, he had never possessed the confidence to pursue a woman. Approaching someone felt impossible, so he had buried those desires deep inside.
Now, however, things were different. With this shortcut—the essence and its powers—he could travel into fictional worlds.
If such heroines truly existed there, then why shouldn't he try? They would be one-of-a-kind people, unmatched in beauty and character.
And honestly, who wouldn't want to date them if they had his powers? According to his philosophy, if you didn't, then either you practiced strict monogamy… or there was something seriously wrong with your brain.
After drinking the essence and gaining all its abilities, he returned to the real world immediately. There was nothing else he wanted to do in that world.
Once back in his room, he went to the mirror to see how he had changed.
The person staring back at him was a tall, imposing figure—6'2", with jet-black hair and fair, smooth skin that almost seemed to glow under the light.
His jawline was sharp and refined, giving him a noble and commanding presence. His facial features had matured into the kind of handsomeness that could turn heads anywhere.
But what shocked him most was his body. His physique resembled Henry Cavill's Superman—broad shoulders, a wide chest, and a perfectly sculpted V-shaped torso.
His muscles were dense and well-proportioned, not bulky but powerful, radiating both strength and elegance.
Eight neatly carved abs stood out like polished stone, the kind of definition only years of perfect training could create.
Every part of him screamed peak masculine beauty, like a Greek god reborn.
His father had been American and his mother Indian. Both had died in a car accident, leaving behind a one-year-old Alex along with a house and some savings.
His father had been an orphan, and there were no known relatives from his mother's side.
The orphanage director was the only person Alex had ever known as family, serving as a father figure to both Alex's dad and everyone in the orphanage.
Alex had learned much of this from his father's diary, which he found when he moved into his parent's old house.
But the director, too, had passed away four years ago—leaving Alex truly alone at twenty-one.
There had been a time when he desperately wanted to find his mother's relatives.
Even though the orphanage director had done his best to raise him, a small, nagging hope lingered in Alex's heart—somewhere out there, family might exist.
People who would take him in, love him, and give him the warmth he had never truly known.
He spent countless nights imagining what they might be like. Did his mother have siblings? Would they look like him,Would they welcome him if they knew who he was?
At first, he tried. He asked questions, searched through old documents, and even went to the library more times than he could count, hoping to dig up some record, some connection—anything.
When luck finally smiled on him—when he won thirty million dollars in the lottery—he poured a chunk of that fortune into hiring private investigators, tracing records, chasing every possible lead. For months, he clung to the hope that money could buy the answers he couldn't find on his own.
But in the end, every trail went cold. No names. No addresses. No trace of his mother's life.
Even after gaining wealth most could only dream of, Alex found nothing. Eventually, reality sank in. The relatives he longed for were nothing more than shadows—if they even existed at all.
He gave up. Not because he stopped caring, but because chasing ghosts had left him tired and bitter.
From then on, Alex learned to live without those answers.
The orphanage director had been the closest thing to family, and for a time, that had been enough.
But now, with the director gone too, the loneliness he had tried to bury crept back in, heavier than ever.
That loneliness left a gap in his heart—a gap he now intended to fill in his own way. Not with distant, unreachable relatives. Not with people who had never even tried to find him.
But with heroines. The kind of women he had admired all his life, the ones he had only seen on screens and in stories. Beautiful, kind, powerful, unique—each one a fantasy made real.
And if one wasn't enough? Then he would have many. A harem. A big harem of his favorite waifus.
To him, that wasn't indulgence. That was the cure for the emptiness inside.