13 people agreed with the rewrite, while 14 wanted to continue from where we left off. My bad for not providing a sample of the rewrite before asking everyone to vote.
So, here's the deal, friends: take a look at this sample rewrite I've prepared before making your final decision. Take your time to read it carefully.
If you change your mind—whether you decide you like the rewrite or end up preferring to continue the original—you can update your vote.
Just delete your previous comment and add a new one with your updated vote.
Here's the sample of the rewrite:
Chapter 1:
"Hayasaka-kun, why did you stop?"
Okay...
Wait, where am I?
Why am I in the bathroom, with the girl standing naked before me, and why am I holding a hairdryer?
My eyes immediately noticed her perfectly pink nipples and her smooth, hairless pussy, its healthy pink hue reminding me of something straight out of hentai.
Despite being a virgin in my past life, I had seen enough naked women in real life to notice the stark contrast between anime girls and real-world women.
There's just something special about the idealized perfection of anime girls when they're naked—their nipples and pussy always appear brighter, tighter, and somehow more appealing. In contrast, real women tend to have darker, looser features, especially when it comes to their nipples and pubic areas.
What made this even more confusing was the fact that I've seen so many naked women in my life—most of them were family members.
I've seen my older sister, my younger sister, and even my aunt naked during a holiday trip where we shared a hotel room.
Yet despite all these experiences, I've never actually had any sexual encounters with them or anyone else, which made it feel like one big cosmic tease.
And honestly, out of all the girls I've seen naked, my younger sister was... well, she had the tightest, freshest body.
Her skin and her intimate parts were flawless, with that same ideal pink color that real women seemed to lack.
No hair down there, unlike the real-world women I've seen, who almost always have pubic hair.
My sister's body was, in my strange and twisted perspective, the most perfect I had ever laid eyes on.
"Hello? Hayasaka-kun, are you still there?" the girl asked again, her voice pulling me back to reality.
I realized I had been standing there like an idiot for way too long.
The fact that she waited so patiently made me wonder if I was dreaming.
Could I possibly be her boyfriend in this dream?
Maybe the point of the dream was for me to finish drying her hair and help wipe the water from her body with a towel.
That must be it.
Well, if this was the case, I figured I might as well finish the task and end this dream as quickly as possible.
Sure, it was fun, but I prefer real life, where I can chase after girls with my own effort, rather than rely on delusions like this.
So, with my nerves on edge and my hands trembling slightly, I did my best to dry her hair with the hairdryer. She stood there quietly, waiting for me to finish.
It seems my guess was right.
I'm her boyfriend in this dream.
With that realization, I grew more confident and continued wiping her body with the towel.
I started with her arms, slowly gliding the towel across her soft, delicate skin.
The sensation of her delicate skin through the fabric made my heartbeat quicken.
My hand moved to her chest, hesitating for a moment before brushing the towel gently over her breasts.
Her nipples hardened slightly from the contact, and my breath hitched, but I pressed on, circling each breast with slow, deliberate strokes.
My hand lingered longer than it should have on her intimate areas.
As I moved the towel lower, wiping her stomach, I couldn't help but feel the heat between my legs intensified.
The soft towel brushed over her abdomen, and then—without thinking—I slid it downward, wiping gently over her hips and then between her thighs.
Her pussy, warm and inviting, seemed to react to my touch, and I couldn't hold back my erection any longer.
I tried to stay composed, but my hand trembled as I wiped her most sensitive area, the fabric catching slightly on the curve of her lips.
My fingers pressed a little more firmly, and for a moment, I thought she might protest, but she said nothing.
Instead, the air between us thickened with tension, making each touch feel heavier, more intimate.
When my hand, still wrapped in the towel, brushed up against her breasts again, I felt her body shiver slightly under my touch.
That's when the girl suddenly spoke.
"Do you like it, Hayasaka-kun? How strange... Normally, you'd hate this and wouldn't touch me there, even for a second."
"That's not true. Why wouldn't I like it?" I instinctively refuted, almost without thinking.
What kind of man wouldn't get hard with a beautiful, naked woman standing in front of him, showing her breasts so blatantly and even allowing him to touch them?
Of course, I like it.
And seeing that she wasn't rejecting me, I became even bolder.
I wiped down to her pussy again, pressing the towel gently but firmly against her.
The soft fabric slid between her legs, grazing her delicate skin.
Then, I lifted her arm high, admiring the view of her armpit.
Her skin was seductively white, without a single hair in sight, which made my already hard cock throb painfully, growing even longer and harder as I felt the strain intensify in my lower body.
"I think that's enough, Hayasaka-kun. You don't need to force yourself."
With that, she covered her naked body with the towel and gave my shoulder a gentle pat.
Before leaving, she added,
"I know you want to go to the Tower, but it's dangerous. Even if you're trying to seduce me, this won't work. You should just stay at home and let me take care of you."
After saying that, she left, leaving me standing there speechless. I didn't understand a single word she had just said.
What Tower?
What seduction?
Shouldn't it be the other way around—her seducing me, not the other way around?
Why did her words sound so... sexist?
Damn, my head hurt like hell.
I think I need to get out of here too.
My "little brother" was still hurting and needed some first aid and relief.
With that decision made, I left without looking back.
Luckily, despite not having complete memories of what transpired in this dream world, my vague recollections and instincts guided me to the correct location—my bedroom.
It felt as if my memory was gradually returning, piece by piece, little by little, which left me wondering whether this was a mere dream or, in fact, a case of transmigration.
Everything seemed far too real to be just a fleeting dream.
The sensations, the emotions—everything felt like it belonged to a new reality, as if I had truly been transported to another world.
The feeling of her nipple, the soft skin of her armpit, and the warmth of her pussy lingered with me, even now.
The memory was vivid, and the smell... It was so tangible, so overwhelming. I had never imagined that the scent of a woman's pussy or her armpit could be so incredibly seductive and hot.
I remember a conversation with a friend of mine, someone with much more experience than I, he claimed that the scent of a woman's sweat was far more intoxicating than after she had bathed. I never gave much thought to it then, but now, I wonder if there might be some truth in that.
Perhaps I need to experience it for myself to truly understand.
In fact, back in the day, when my sister would come home after school, her feet were always so smelly. It was the pungent scent of her socks, and oddly enough, I found it incredibly arousing.
That experience was what initially sparked my interest in the natural scent of women.
Over time, I realized that I much preferred the raw smell of sweat on a woman than the clean scent they had after a shower.
There was something primal about it, something that stirred deep desires.
Before I knew it, I had unknowingly arrived at my room.
My eyes immediately brightened when I saw my laptop resting on the desk.
Without a second thought, I opened it and hastily pulled off my pants, ready for a much-needed masturbation session.
I was even more thrilled when I noticed that the WiFi was already connected, sparing me the trouble of entering any password.
With excitement building, I began to browse for some porn.
As I searched, I reached out for tissues on the desk, preparing for what I thought would be a perfect release.
However, my rising anticipation quickly turned into disappointment.
My expectations came crashing down when I saw that the screen was filled with gay images.
My cock immediately softened, losing its vigor in an instant, and I slammed the laptop shut in anger, the screen cracking as I heard the sharp sound of it breaking.
My mind was reeling with shock.
What had I just saw?
Why were there no naked girls, only pictures of men?
Did I somehow mess up?
This wasn't what I signed up for.
Frustrated, I collapsed onto my bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything.
Everything was so bizarre.
Not only did that girl let me touch her most sensitive parts, but her reaction had been so unusual. Even her words were baffling—sexist, even—which made me question her sanity.
But most unsettling of all was the fact that the porn was filled with gay men, with not a single woman in sight.
Nothing made sense anymore; everything felt wrong and twisted.
I needed answers, and I needed them now.
As if a god had answered my prayer, my bedroom door swung open, revealing the girl I had previously bathed. She stepped into my room with an air of quiet confidence, her presence sending a jolt through my chest.
As I looked at her more closely this time, my heartbeat quickened uncontrollably.
I finally recognized who she was.
Earlier, my attention had been fixated on her more...vulgar aspects, particularly her naked body, and I hadn't paid much attention to her face.
But now, with the clarity of hindsight, I realized the truth.
She was no longer naked.
Instead, she was dressed in a school uniform that immediately struck me as familiar—the very same uniform from the anime Kaguya-sama: Love is War.
She wore the Suuchin Academy uniform designed for female students, her petite figure perfectly suited to its tailored lines.
Her crimson eyes gleamed beneath her long, jet-black hair, which fell freely down her back, not tied up in a ribbon as I had seen in the anime.
This small but noticeable difference left me wondering, had she not yet encountered Miyuki?
My mind raced with possibilities.
With her appearance now fully in focus, I knew without a doubt who she was, she was Kaguya Shinomiya!
In my opinion, not only was she stunningly gorgeous, but she was also irresistibly cute.
But if it was truly her, why had she allowed me to touch her body so blatantly earlier?
And what exactly had she said?
Hayasaka?
The name echoed in my mind.
Could it be that I had some connection with Ai Hayasaka?
Was that why Kaguya had allowed me such intimate contact?
No, that seemed unlikely.
It didn't quite add up.
Something more was at play here.
Her face, which had been teasing and seductive just moments ago where her breaths quickening as she held back soft moans under my touch—was now completely different.
Her expression was cold and intimidating, a stark contrast to the playful demeanor I had witnessed earlier.
Yet, when she looked directly at me, her gaze seemed to soften.
"Hayasaka-kun, have you not changed into your school uniform yet?" Her voice was gentle, though tinged with a hint of reproach as she addressed me.
She didn't seem angry, though, nor did she lash out at me for failing to meet her expectations about changing into my school attire.
I didn't know who I was in this strange scenario, why I needed to attend school with her, or even what grade I was supposed to be in.
The only thing I knew was that I had to play along until I figured out more of what was going on.
"I'm sorry, Miss Kaguya, I'll get changed right away," I replied, trying to match the respectful tone I thought was appropriate.
Her eyes dimmed slightly when I addressed her with "Miss," my tone far more formal than whatever dynamic we had shared previously.
Had I said the wrong thing? Had I addressed her incorrectly, or was my manner too formal? Was I treating her differently than I was supposed to? Should I have acted more casual or intimate, as I had before?
Before I could dwell too long on my doubts, Kaguya spoke again, leaving me little time to respond.
"Well, don't be late, Hayasaka-kun. I'll be waiting outside," she said, nodding at me with a mixture of encouragement and expectation before turning to leave.
As she stepped out of the room, I opened my wardrobe, my mind still spinning, and began changing into the Suuchin Academy uniform, preparing for whatever awaited me next.
After I changed into my school uniform, I stepped out the door, Kaguya nodding in silent acknowledgment as I followed behind her.
The crisp morning air greeted us as we walked down the polished wooden hallway, the faint scent of freshly brewed tea and miso soup wafting through the traditional sliding doors.
When we reached the dining area, I couldn't help but pause for a moment, taking in the sight before me.
The breakfast table was laid out with meticulous care, on a lacquered wooden tray sat an array of dishes: a perfectly grilled slice of salmon, its skin crisp and shimmering, accompanied by a bowl of steaming white rice.
There was tamagoyaki—soft, golden layers of sweet omelet, neatly sliced—and small plates of pickled vegetables, their bright colors contrasting against the minimalist ceramics.
In the center of the table was a delicate ceramic teapot, steam gently rising as Kaguya poured green tea into porcelain cups with elegant precision.
She glanced at me briefly before gesturing toward the seat across from her, her expression calm but expectant.
As I sat down, I felt the warm aroma of the miso soup settle over me, soothing and comforting.
The clink of chopsticks against porcelain broke the morning's silence as Kaguya gracefully picked up her utensils, beginning her meal with practiced ease.
I mimicked her movements, though with a bit more hesitation, still somewhat unaccustomed to such refined morning rituals.
As much as my parents had always strictly urged me in the past to maintain proper etiquette when eating, I had always been rebellious at heart and never cared about such rules.
Of course, I still upheld superficial manners in public, but in private, I basically didn't care and often ate alone in my chamber, leaning against the wall as I nonchalantly scooped food with my spoon, savoring every bite without anyone bothering me.
That was the way I preferred things.
This is precisely why I hated eating with others or attending banquets.
I valued my own privacy far more than being bound by tedious rules of decorum.
Now, as I sat at this table, I found myself maintaining the superficial rules and etiquette of my past as I gracefully swept my hand over the spread of food, presenting myself with the elegance befitting the Young Master of the Peng Clan.
"Hayasaka-kun, is the food not to your liking?" Kaguya asked, her voice laced with a hint of concern.
My movements had grown stiff and nervous, something she quickly noticed.
"I just prefer to eat alone, Kaguya-chan," I replied, deliberately using a more intimate form of address, testing to see if my hunch about her reaction was right.
It seemed I was correct, as her eyes brightened at the use of the nickname.
"Well, if you say so, then I'll allow you to eat in your own privacy next time," she said, unbothered by the fact that I, someone beneath her station, had made such a request. It was probably a bit rude, wasn't it?
"Speaking of which, Hayasaka-kun, is there something you wanted to request? You seem less formal, a lot closer even. I don't know... Before, you always insisted that it wasn't proper for a servant to eat at the same table as their young lady, but now you don't seem to mind. Is this related to the tower again?"
Now I understood my role in this whole scenario, which made it easier to determine how I should behave. However, I had no intention of acting like a servant, and the fact that Kaguya seemed pleased that I treated her as an equal showed me that this was the right approach.
"What is the Tower, Kaguya-chan?" I asked bluntly, no longer bothering to hide my frustration. The endless confusion swirling in my head was driving me insane, and I needed answers, right here and right now.
"Can you repeat that again, Hayasaka-kun?" she asked with a drunken expression that hinted she was quite pleased about something.
"What is the Tower, Kaguya-chan?" I repeated, this time more firmly. Her eyes seemed to flicker with amusement, and she looked even happier. I had no idea what exactly she was so happy about.
"Wait, Hayasaka-kun, did you just call me Kaguya-chan?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity and a hint of mischief.
"Yes, I did," I confirmed in a tone that was far too patient for how much I craved answers about the Tower. I tried to suppress my growing impatience, but it was hard.
"Well, since you're so eager to call me Kaguya-chan," she grinned mischievously, "then it's settled. You'll be joining me in the Awakening Ritual for Tower Paradise. If you awaken any latent potential, I'll allow you to enter the Tower."
"For now, though, let's not be late for school."
I nodded, sharing her sense of urgency, as we both rose from our chairs and started preparing to leave for school.
When we reached the garage, Kaguya suddenly said, "Let me drive this time, Hayasaka-kun. You don't seem to be in the best condition for driving."
She wasn't wrong. I wasn't in any state to drive—hell, I didn't even know where the school was. My memory was hazy at best, and I had no idea where I was supposed to go, so I gratefully nodded in agreement.
She smiled in response and led me to the front door of a sleek, red sports car parked before us.
I didn't recognize the brand—it wasn't like I cared much about cars or bikes or any of that stuff. Honestly, I wasn't really an outdoors person in the first place. But one thing I could tell: this car was clearly expensive and stylish, the kind of thing only rich people would drive.
Once she started the engine, we drove towards the school, the gates ahead of us opening as the security guard waved us through.
That's when I noticed something odd.
Why was the security guard a woman?
I didn't want to sound sexist or anything, but wasn't security usually handled by men? In the canon I remembered, Kaguya's bodyguards were men in black suits.
Had I remembered that wrong?
I scratched my head in confusion, deciding to leave the answer to my future self.
For now, I wanted to enjoy the ride.
The wind blew through my hair as Kaguya's car, which had a convertible roof, cruised smoothly along the road.
And thus, that's how my anime life began.