Being Pure is a curse in Hentai World

I never had a good relationship with my father. To put it bluntly, the man hated my guts.

He was one of the most influential figures in all of Japan, a titan in politics and business, admired and feared in equal measure. And me? I was the stain on his otherwise perfect résumé.

A bastard. Born from a fleeting affair with a mistress.

To be fair, he could have discarded me at any time. Yet, for reasons I never understood, he chose not to. Perhaps it was pity. Or guilt. Either way, when my mother died, he reluctantly took me in at the tender age of six.

Under his household, I was given the best education money could buy—self-defence, foreign languages, business, and etiquette. Everything a proper heir should know.

And yet, no matter how much I excelled, no matter how obediently I played the part of the perfect son, his resentment toward me only deepened.

The better I became, the more he restricted me.

Eventually, I got tired of it all. Tired of the hostility, the suffocating expectations, the constant reminder that I was an unwanted flaw in his perfect life.

So, I made a proposal.

"I'll leave the family name behind. I won't tell anyone my true identity. Ever."

That seemed to do the trick.

And just like that, I was no longer one of Japan's elite. Just an anonymous student, struggling to pay rent. Alone—but free.

And for the first time in my life, I felt at peace.

Then, I died.

---

"Y-you bastard! You think you're tough, huh?!"

The present came rushing back as I stood in the middle of the street, facing the group of delinquents who had been harassing a girl. I hadn't planned on getting involved, but seriously—what was I supposed to do? It was happening right in front of me. The group of five had quickly dwindled to three. The two girls? Gone the instant I laid the first punch. Guess they weren't as loyal to their crew as they made it seem. Very typical.

Well, two technically, if you didn't count the guy writhing on the pavement. Sorry, not sorry.

"Look, just leave," I said flatly. "I really don't like violence. How about you take your friend here and go to that karaoke you were talking about?" I tilted my head toward the girl standing behind me. "And leave her out of it. She's not interested."

As if on cue, the goon I had already pummeled groaned in agreement from the pavement.

Nice. At least someone understood.

"Like hell we would—"

"Calm down, Ryuji."

The voice came from the blonde douche, the real problem. Why do I say that, you ask? Well, he just seems like the generic bad guy. Tall, buff, blonde hair and tanned skin. Not to mention the ugly face. He had been watching from the sidelines this whole time. Unlike the others, he didn't immediately lash out.

For a split second, I felt something radiating off him—intense, seething anger.

Then, just as quickly, it disappeared, replaced by an easygoing grin.

"Oh, I apologize on behalf of my friends here!" he said, rubbing the back of his head, looking sheepish. "We just wanted to have some fun and make new friends, you know?"

He turned to the girl. "You too, miss. Sorry if we made you uncomfortable!"

Yeah. Bullshit. His entire aura screamed douchebag. No way in hell was anyone buying that act, you moron. Stop smiling like that.

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to tell him to piss off—

But then, I felt a light tug on the hem of my shirt.

The girl.

I glanced down at her. She shook her head slightly, her expression hesitant.

...What? Was she really that quick to forgive?

Too pure for this world.

"...It's okay," she murmured. "I should have spoken up sooner. It was my fault too."

Then, to my utter disbelief, she bowed to them.

What the hell?

After everything, she was the one apologizing?

She turned back to me, meeting my eyes.

"Uhm… Can you let it go, please?"

She pleaded softly.

Damn it.

This whole situation was messing with my head.

To be fair, my hands were throbbing from those strikes earlier. This body wasn't trained. I knew I could still take down the remaining two, but was it really worth it?

Besides… if the victim had chosen to forgive and forget—

Who was I to judge?

"Fine," I muttered. "It's alright."

"Yup! It's all cool, man!" The blonde took a step closer, slinging an arm over my shoulder like we were old friends.

I resisted the urge to break it.

"I hope to see you guys around again!" he said, grinning. "The name's Oga Masaru! Nice to meet you."

God, I hate him already.

"Yeah, can't say the same." I shrugged his arm off my shoulder without sparing him a glance and turned to the girl instead.

Now that I was getting a proper look at her—

Milky white skin. Wide, innocent eyes. And, as I quickly noted, her tits are amazing.

Exactly my type.

...Ahem.

I cleared my throat. "...You alright?"

"Ah, yes! Thank you so much—"

"Pay me back."

"Huh?"

---

"So that's what you meant..."

The girl muttered as we sat on a park bench near a burger cart. The warm glow of the streetlights cast a soft hue over her face, her expression thoughtful. I had dragged her here under the guise of repaying my "heroic act" with food, mainly to stop her from feeling guilty. I didn't need a girl owing me favours—it was easier to settle things cleanly.

Really, Kido Yuuto, you're such a great guy. (lol.)

"I'm really thankful for your help. If it weren't for you... I don't think I'd have been able to stand up for myself," she said, bowing slightly. The movement made her blouse dip just enough for me to catch an accidental glimpse. Holy hell. Full points.

"I told you, it's fine." I waved her off, taking another bite of my burger. "You paid me back. We're even."

My words made her smile—a soft, genuine one. It suited her. Not that it had any real effect on me. I still wasn't sure what genre I had been thrown into. A rom-com? A drama? Hopefully not a tragedy.

For all I knew, she could be a succubus, luring me in before sucking my soul dry the moment I let my guard down.

The said 'maybe-succubus' tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and blushed slightly. "I just realized I never introduced myself. I'm Hanamura Sumire."

"Hmm, like a violet from the flower village?"

Her eyes lit up with surprise. "Ah, yes. It's a small, unnoticed flower, but… it blooms earnestly..."

I hummed in acknowledgement, continuing to eat my burger. Hanamura tilted her head slightly, eyeing me curiously. When I didn't respond, she pouted.

Sighing, I finally caved.

"...Kido Yuuto."

She tilted her head. "Like a calm fortress that soars beyond limits?"

I nearly choked. "Don't say it out loud. It's embarrassing."

Seriously, I didn't pick this name, okay? I just got dropped into this body a few hours ago. And as far as I could tell, the previous Yuuto was not soaring beyond anything—more like a creaky door, ready to collapse at any moment.

Ugh. I need sleep. Hopefully, when I wake up, I'll be back in my original body, safe in a hospital bed.

"Kido-kun, your face is turning red. It's cute," Hanamura teased, giggling softly. She covered her mouth with her hand in a graceful, almost refined way. "Especially your freckles."

"Yeah, I keep hearing that today."

"That's because it's true."

She smiled again, but this time, it was softer—more melancholic. Leaning back on the bench, she exhaled. "I was actually waiting for my mom. We were supposed to buy a present for someone."

"…For who?"

"My stepfather."

I raised a brow. "Then why didn't your mother come with you?"

"She got caught up with work, so I was supposed to pick out the gift alone. His birthday is next week, and I…" She hesitated, biting her lip. Her gaze wavered. "I want him to be happy. He's done so much for me."

Oh. A father complex, huh? Can't relate.

…Or maybe I can.

"And you feel like you're not doing enough..."

"Huh?"

"Nothing." I shook my head.

There was something about her words that felt… familiar. That longing. That quiet desperation to be accepted by a father figure. I wasn't sure if I saw a reflection of myself in her, but for the first time, I felt an odd sense of kinship.

I sighed, finishing my burger before standing up.

"I guess I can help you pick out a gift."

Her eyes widened. "You'd do that?"

"Yeah. In return, answer a few questions for me."

"Of course, Kido-kun! Thank you!"

She shot up from the bench, bowing deeply. Geez. Stop that. I can see down your shirt again. Not that I'm complaining, but still.

"…It's fine." I sighed, glancing up at the darkening sky. It was getting late. I needed to get home and make dinner. Hopefully, my neighbours weren't going to fight tonight. Or worse—get a little too passionate. I did not want to hear that all night.

"Would you be okay going home alone, Hanamura-san? Call a cab. It's not safe this late."

"Ah, no need. My mother will be here soon." She shifted slightly, hesitating. Then, she bit her lip shyly. "Uhm, Kido-kun?"

"Hm?"

"…I'll need your contact information. For the gift."

"Ah, yeah. Sure."

We exchanged numbers without much fuss, and for a while, we just talked. The conversation was light, comfortable even. Eventually, a car pulled up nearby. Hanamura stood, brushing off her skirt before glancing at me one last time.

She gave me a small, almost hesitant wave before slipping into the car.

I stood there, watching the vehicle disappear into the distance. For a long moment, I didn't move. I just stood there, trying to process everything that had happened that day.

I died.

I transmigrated.

Got a haircut.

Beat up a delinquent.

Got involved with a beautiful girl.

And the day still wasn't over.

Honestly, this was too much. My body was exhausted. My mind? Even more so.

Whatever this world was, whatever was waiting for me next—it could all wait.

For now, I just wanted to go home.

And sleep to my heart's content.

---

My eyebrow twitched in irritation as I sat cross-legged on the floor of my apartment. In front of me, a perfectly composed, handsome bastard—sipped on the tea I had begrudgingly brewed for him. Seriously, I wanted to sleep. Why the hell was this day not over yet?

Kido Itsuki, my older brother by a year, sat across from me, exuding his usual regal aura. From the memories of the previous Yuuto, I knew that my older brother had always looked down on me. To put it bluntly, he thought I was a waste of his time—a stain on his perfect image. And that? That pisses me off more than I care to admit.

"… Hmm, you've settled well."

His voice was smooth and nonchalant, like he was offering a compliment, but I knew better. It was just another way for him to mock me—just like always.

"Yup. Though, my previous room was bigger." I shrugged, nonchalant. I knew that probably caught him off guard. He was probably expecting me to either snap or fall into my usual silent, passive routine. "Oh, and by the way, talk to our parents to put a TV in here, would you? It's a bit boring with nothing to do."

Itsuki blinked, his eyebrow twitching. The audacity, huh? Good. That was the goal. I couldn't care less about what he thought. His unannounced visit, in particular, really rubbed me the wrong way.

I was this close to decking him when I saw him walk through the door. Seriously, Yuuto's memories of this bastard weren't exactly a highlight.

"You've got a sharp tongue now," Itsuki remarked, his lips twisting into a smirk. "Guess it's better than you nodding like a puppet."

"I try." I barely glanced at him, sipping from my own cup.

Then, out of nowhere, the bastard dropped a bombshell.

"I broke up with Asahi," Itsuki said, eyes flicking to me as though he was waiting for some sort of reaction.

"Meh. You came all this way just to tell me that?"

Itsuki blinked twice, clearly stunned by my lack of a response. Relief, anger, frustration—any of those would've been the expected reaction, but not this. I wasn't interested. Honda was the reason I transferred schools in the first place, and she sure as hell didn't do anything to improve my self-esteem. Honestly, I didn't even care about her tits. Not my type.

He stared at me for a few moments longer, clearly expecting more.

"You seem different. Have you been trying to act tough?" Itsuki leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at me, assessing. "Anyway, I'm here to tell you, you're free to come back. Our parents want you back. It's time to stop being childish."

He was always good at twisting things, making them sound like he was doing me a favor. Whose fault was that Yuuto had to leave in the first place?

"Nah, I'm good."

His expression darkened.

"You've got no reason to act this way. Just because we messed around with your friends, you're going to hold a grudge? You should come home." His glasses gleamed with an almost patronizing gleam as he relaxed back into his chair. "I'll even put in a word with Asahi. Maybe she'll take you if you ask nicely."

I blinked once. "Dude, are you hearing yourself right now?"

My eyebrow twitched again. This guy was delusional, assuming I still gave a shit. The old Yuuto would've probably thought he had to earn Itsuki's approval. But me? I could care less. The guy screwed the girl his little brother liked and didn't even have the decency to apologize.

If he thinks I'm going to fall into the role of the obedient little brother, he's sorely mistaken.

"Get out."

"What?"

"Get out of my apartment, Lord High Chancellor of Pretentiousness."

Itsuki's eyes narrowed into slits. I could see the rage building up, but he didn't lash out. Honestly, I didn't know whether to be impressed or disappointed. The tension was thick, but I wasn't backing down.

"You've grown insufferable," he hissed. "Is this how you speak to your brother? You're a waste of my time. I came here trying to do you a favor…"

"Oh, how kind of you, Aniki," I said, rolling my eyes. "Take that kindness and shove it up your ass. I told you to get out, didn't I?"

"Kindo Yuu–"

"Out. Now." I stood up, a slight edge creeping into my voice.

Itsuki ground his teeth together, his fists clenching. I could practically feel the rage radiating off him. The guy's always been able to keep his cool, but now… I could tell he was having a hard time. Too bad for him, I was done with his bullshit.

"… I see. So that's how it is." He took a deep breath, straightened his glasses, and slowly stood up. "You're still angry, huh? Fine. But you better not regret this. I offered you a chance to come home. A chance to get with Asahi–"

"Yeah, whatever, see ya. Book a cab."

I slammed the door shut, cutting him off mid-sentence, and locked it before he could protest. Through the door, I heard his frustrated yell, but it quickly faded as his footsteps retreated down the hall.

I stood there for a moment, feeling oddly… calm. He was gone. Finally. I could breathe again. I heard him muttering outside, probably making all sorts of assumptions about my behavior, but frankly, I didn't care.

Why was he acting so cool, anyway?

I didn't want him out because I was mad. I just wanted him to leave me alone so I could finally get some damn sleep.

"… I hate this damn genre."

Let me out of this nightmare.

---

Sumire shifted in her seat, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the car door as she gazed out the window. The neon glow of passing streetlights flickered across her face, illuminating the quiet turmoil in her expression. Today had been… unexpected.

All she had wanted was to buy a present for her stepfather—something that would make him happy. Something that would let him know how much she appreciated him.

She owed him that much.

From the moment he entered their lives, he had been nothing but kind. Her mother had spent everyday drowning in grief after her father's passing, but then he arrived—offering warmth, stability, and love without ever asking for anything in return. Despite her mother's inability to bear children, he never once complained, never showed resentment. He was content with the life he had.

Sumire bit her lip, an ache settling in her chest.

He had done so much for her. So why did she still feel like this?

"And you feel like you're not doing enough."

Kido-kun's words echoed in her mind, striking a chord deep within her. She clutched at the fabric of her skirt, her heart clenching.

He was different.

Sumire was used to being stared at. She wasn't arrogant about her looks, but she was aware of the way men—boys, teachers, strangers—looked at her. She saw it in their eyes, the same unspoken hunger, the same veiled intentions.

Even today, those delinquents had wanted nothing more than her body. She could see it, could feel it. And for a split second, as fear gripped her, she had thought of her stepfather. Of the way his gaze had started to shift in recent months.

The realization had left her disgusted. Ashamed.

And then he appeared.

Kido-kun was… unremarkable at first glance. Soft, even frail-looking, without the sharp, chiselled features of the boys who usually tried to flirt with her. But there had been something about him—something solid. Something commanding.

His presence wasn't overwhelming, nor was it charming in a conventional sense. But when he stepped between her and those men, he became something else entirely.

Strong.

Imposing.

And when he looked at her…

Sumire's breath hitched, her fingers tightening against her lap. Just for a moment—just a fleeting moment—her heart had skipped a beat.

His gaze wasn't like the others. It didn't strip her bare, didn't weigh her value in flesh and desire.

It was genuine.

He had helped her not because he wanted something in return, but because he could.

A soft, almost involuntary smile crept onto her lips as she leaned her forehead against the window.

"Hmm, thinking about that boy, are you?"

Her mother's teasing voice snapped her back to reality. Sumire's entire body stiffened, heat rising to her cheeks.

"Kaa-san is so emotional right now," her mother continued, sighing dramatically. "My little Sumire is finally growing up."

"I-it's not like that!" Sumire stammered, her voice slightly higher than intended. "I was just… He was my savior. That's all. I'm grateful to him."

"Of course you are. I'm grateful to that young man too," her mother hummed, her eyes still on the road. "I would've loved to meet him, you know, if someone hadn't been so embarrassed and told me to just drive away."

Sumire groaned, burying her burning face in her hands.

"Mom, please…"

"You didn't want to make him awkward, is that it?" Her mother chuckled knowingly. "How thoughtful. But who's to say there isn't a chance?"

Sumire peeked through her fingers, shooting her mother an exasperated glare. "There is nothing going on between us."

"Mm-hmm. And yet, you exchanged contact information with him." Her mother's grin widened. "And even set up a date."

"It's not a date!"

The entire ride home was filled with Sumire's desperate attempts to defend herself while her mother laughed at her expense. But beneath the flustered denials and playful teasing, a quiet truth settled in Sumire's heart.

She had only just met Kido Yuuto.

And yet, somehow…

She couldn't stop thinking about him.

---

The streetlights flickered erratically in the dead of night, casting uneven shadows along the cracked pavement. Three delinquents strolled down the sidewalk, their footsteps echoing in the empty streets. The tallest among them—the blonde, tanned figure with a cigarette between his lips—walked with an air of quiet contemplation, his sharp eyes reflecting the embers of his smoke.

"Oi, Masaru, you're not just gonna let this slide, are you?"

The question came from one of his lackeys, his voice laced with uncertainty. Masaru exhaled a slow plume of smoke, his expression unreadable as they walked in tense silence. The air between them felt heavy, thick with expectation.

His lackeys fidgeted under the weight of it.

Finally, Masaru spoke, his voice low and dripping with malice.

"… I'll bide my time." His lips curled into a slow, predatory grin. "And when the time is right, I'll strike."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Goro, the bruised and battered one, clutched his swollen nose. He had been the one thrashed earlier, and frankly, he wanted nothing more to do with that guy. "Are you even hearing yourself? That freak isn't some random loser from the streets. I saw it in his eyes—he's different. He's dangerous."

Masaru halted mid-step, his cold gaze sliding toward Goro like a blade against skin. That one look was enough to shut him up instantly.

Oga Masaru knew it too—the guy wasn't normal. Despite his lean frame and unimposing features, his movements had been precise, practiced. Lethal. That was why Masaru hadn't pushed the fight further. Not out of fear, but out of calculation. He wasn't about to pick a battle without knowing exactly what he was dealing with.

But there was something else. Something far more interesting.

That girl.

The way she had looked at the guy—the so-called "hero" of the day. Her wide, innocent eyes had practically glowed with admiration. Like a maiden falling for her knight in shining armor.

Masaru licked his lips, a dark thrill running through him.

Pure.

And if she truly fell for him, her love would be pure too.

Nothing was more satisfying than corrupting something that started off pure.

"That girl," he murmured, his tone taking on a chilling amusement. "She's from our school. I've seen her around before. But the guy? He's new." He flicked his cigarette away, watching the ember die against the pavement. "Keep an eye on her. If she falls for him, then we'll find him soon enough."

He chuckled, the sound slow and deliberate.

"And when she does fall for him…" His grin widened, his tongue running over his lips. "I'll take her for myself."

A shiver ran down the spines of his lackeys.

Everyone knew Oga Masaru's reputation. The Shark. A predator who collected women like trophies, shaping them to his liking before discarding them when they bored him. He wasn't just a playboy—he was a master manipulator, a creature of pure, self-indulgent cruelty.

That girl had no idea what she had just gotten herself into.

And this time, his lackeys weren't so sure if the so-called "hero" would be there to save her.