Although Kenichi Amamiya had no idea what had happened to Kaguya Ōtsutsuki or why she had become like this, he did not care too much. He had simply suddenly thought of something—something related to himself. It was only after glancing at the calendar before leaving earlier that he remembered it. He had been in this world for so many years, yet he had never celebrated his own birthday even once. Not that Kenichi cared much about birthdays. To him, a birthday merely meant getting one year older. In fact, every New Year could be considered another birthday. But for some reason, he had remembered it this time—remembered this matter that seemed trivial and not particularly important to him. Kenichi scratched his head, an amused expression on his face. He had not expected himself to have such sentimental moments. Still, he did not dislike this feeling. After all, to Kenichi, such emotions proved that he was alive. Though he truly did not care that much, occasional melancholy was perfectly normal. Humans were strange creatures—sometimes prone to sadness, sometimes filled with passion. Kenichi patted Kaguya Ōtsutsuki on the shoulder. Yet now that Kaguya was holding him like this, her figure pressed against him, he had to admit that his thoughts were starting to wander. Kaguya had a very good figure, after all, and this shy version of her had the charm of a little woman about her. Kenichi could not help swallowing a few more times. Kaguya looked up at him, a bashful flush on her face, then slowly closed her eyes.
By the time Kenichi woke up, it was already the next day. Sitting on the bed, he fell into deep thought. Yesterday, he had not intended to do anything to Kaguya. Though he had indeed fabricated a unique set of