Ch. 5 - The Indecent System, Nogami Izumi’s Status Panel

On the walk home, Harutaki had no idea that his gaze had just been condemned as lecherous.

If he had, he would’ve screamed his innocence on the spot; because really, it was all the system’s fault.

From his own perspective, his focus hadn’t been on Nogami at all, but on the system panel he secretly pulled up to kill time.

And yet, after he’d kept his eyes “on” Nogami for about thirty seconds, something strange happened.

The plain status bar that normally showed only his own stats began to flicker.

Line after line of numbers dissolved into faint motes of light, which gradually merged into a little pixel figure—one that looked vaguely like Harutaki himself. When he tapped into that avatar’s sub-menu, his usual stats sat there quietly.

But there was something else.

Next to his own little avatar stood another—this one resembling Nogami.

When he opened her sub-menu, Harutaki was floored. Compared to his bare-bones interface, hers was absurdly elaborate—so much so that it could have stunned him for three days straight.

…

[Section 1]

[Nogami Izumi]

And to the side of these stat lines—an actual 2D standing illustration of Nogami in her school uniform.

[Section 2]

[Body: A young frame with delicate limbs—every standard for a beautiful girl neatly met. Growing bones, a pelvis yet to bloom, mammary glands still striving… Soft flesh wrapped in tender skin, like a rosebud guarded by cruel thorns.]

[Heart: Arrogant, absolute, a queen among mortals—words that would be undeserved for most, yet embodied perfectly by this girl.

She possessed the talent and the status to match.

[Chest: …xxx words omitted…]

[Section 3]

[Locked Content]

…

Even Harutaki, who had weathered a fair few storms in life, found his pulse racing after scrolling through Nogami’s status panel. His chest hammered like he’d just sprinted a hundred meters flat out.

That was the moment he realized—

It was very indecent.

…

Harutaki opened his front door and slipped on his slippers.

No “I’m home” slipped from his lips. He was always the first to return, after all. Words like “I’m home” or “I’m leaving” were meaningless when nobody was there to hear them—just empty sounds feeding loneliness.

Dropping his bag, he headed straight to his room and began tearing through drawers, searching for where he’d stashed his allowance.

The desk drawer was stuffed full of pink silicone toys and lube; no space for money.

The wardrobe reeked of dust, clothes piled in chaos, with a few empty hangers dangling mockingly.

Maybe under the bed?

Flattening himself on the floor, Harutaki peeked under. Dust bunnies, nothing else. Not even the stereotypical hidden stash of dirty magazines.

“Achoo!”

A dust ball grazed his nose, setting off a violent sneeze.

How did that guy live like this for so many years…?

Harutaki’s mental shopping list lengthened by the minute.

Men’s cosmetics. Clothes. Accessories. Even bedding—yes, that needed replacing too. Not out of vanity, but because nothing could be salvaged by washing anymore.

Five minutes later, empty-handed except for a pile of R18 goods, Harutaki slumped on the floor. With a sigh, he pulled out his phone and dialed Ayaka’s number.

“Hello?”

“Um… Ayaka…”

“What is it, stupid Aniki? Spit it out, don’t waste my time.” Her irritation spilled through the speaker.

“…Do you know where I usually keep my allowance?”

“…Hah?”

Her startled voice made him pause. He couldn’t fathom what about his question was so shocking, so he stayed quiet. Ayaka too fell silent—for ten whole seconds—before suddenly bursting into laughter.

“I didn’t hear wrong, did I? You, talking about keeping money?”

“W-What’s wrong with that?”

The unease in his chest deepened. He thought back to his reclusive lifestyle, realizing how ridiculous it must sound.

“You’ve borrowed pocket money from Chiaki more times than I can count, all to buy your disgusting stuff. Half the time, you can’t even pay her back on schedule. And now you’re talking about savings?”

Ayaka’s mocking laughter rolled on before turning into rapid-fire scolding:

“Don’t tell me—you just tried Chiaki and got rejected, so now you’re crawling to me? Hentai Aniki, you’re not seriously thinking I’ll hand you my allowance to buy more of your gross junk, are you!?”

“…”

“Hey? Hey! You listening?”

He was listening, but if she’d been face-to-face with him right now, she would have noticed how his eyes had gone glassy, his body sagging with the weight of despair.

A prophecy fulfilled.

Harutaki couldn’t help recalling his confident refusal of her “help” that very morning. His lips twisted into a self-mocking grin.

In the end, what were pride and face worth in this world? Less than nothing, at least until one had actually achieved something.

“…Ayaka, remember how you said this morning you’d lend me some money…?”

He thickened his skin, ignoring the blatant hypocrisy, his change of tune faster than a TV comedian’s skit.

“Didn’t you say you didn’t want it?”

Her smug hum carried clearly through the mic, and in his mind’s eye, Harutaki could see her: pink-haired little sister, arms folded, chin tipped up with triumph.

“‘What kind of brother borrows money from his sister?’” she parroted in his voice. “Now, who said that again? My memory’s fuzzy. Care to remind me, stupid Aniki?”

“Tch…”

“What’s wrong? Getting mad?”

Mad? Not at all.

If anything, he found her string of teasing adorable.

Sarcasm? This? Compared to the vicious tongues he’d seen online, she was a kitten swiping at a tiger.

“You already call me stupid brother—how could my memory be better than yours?” he said.

“I don’t even know which fool would say something like that. What’s the big deal about a brother borrowing money from his sister, right, Ayaka?”

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