“Whew—”
Setting down the copy of An Actor’s Essential Cultivation in his hands, Minami Yuji wearily lifted his fingers and rubbed at his temples.
Minami Yuji, age 8 this year, was a transmigrator.
Only, unlike the countless other transmigrators out there — great and small — he belonged to the womb-transmigrator variety.
He had to admit, those first days right after the womb-transmigration were truly a tale of blood and tears.
A newborn child couldn’t control the waves of sleepiness that washed over him.
He spent basically the whole day, morning to night, in bed.
Counting generously, his waking hours added up to maybe four hours total a day, and even then he had to close his eyes again every half hour.
His limbs were so weak that, lying in bed, he couldn’t even turn his body over freely.
Fortunately, the one upside of possessing an adult’s soul was extremely strong adaptability — truly very strong.
About two days into his womb-transmigration — watching, with no expression on his face, the nurses playfully teasing him with their hands — Minami Yuji had more or less pieced together his surroundings.
First, he had apparently transmigrated.
Second, this place didn’t appear to be the Heavenly Empire — it seemed to be Japan.
As for the Japanese language…
In his previous life, he had occasionally been sent to Japan on business trips for work.
So while his Japanese wasn’t exactly fluent and smooth, handling most everyday conversation was no real trouble.
The last point, and the most crucial one, was—
—he had somehow, inexplicably, become an orphan.
This wasn’t to say his parents had ascended to the heavens.
It was that his parents simply couldn’t be found at all.
Based on the scraps of conversation he overheard between the nurses, he seemed to have been an infant abandoned at the relief organization outside the hospital.
By the look of it, his birth mother fell into that ‘oh-yes, oh-my’ category of ‘good girl’ — in Japan, that kind of young woman was surprisingly common.
They wantonly enjoyed their youth in certain places and then abandoned their innocent children, dusted off their hands, and went right on enjoying their own lives.
Fortunately, Minami Yuji’s birth mother had retained one tiny scrap of conscience and hadn’t tossed him into one of the public toilets you could find everywhere.
Instead, after giving birth to him, she had quietly placed him at the relief organization outside the hospital.
A little conscience — but not too much.
And so, with the support of the relief organization and beneath the alarmed gazes of the nurses, Minami Yuji grew up smoothly to the age of two, and just as smoothly became a local celebrity—
Yes, a celebrity.
Under the astonished gazes of the adults around him, little Yuji — only two years old — could not only converse fluently with people, but could also breeze through whatever senior-high-level coursework the grown-ups passed him.
In his ordinary hours, he was even fond of leafing through books on literature and philosophy.
“If I didn’t know his age, I’d honestly suspect he was already in his twenties.”
The director of the rescue organization gave that assessment to others.
Meanwhile, Minami Yuji himself had no intention of hiding his extraordinary nature.
At two, and already capable of fluent conversation, he was naturally transferred to a nearby orphanage, placed in the care of Director Minami Mao for his education.
But it didn’t take long for Minami Mao to realize something.
This child…
…was simply not someone she was equipped to teach!
Courteous to everyone, picking up anything he was shown on the first try; mental math, philosophical questions, both the sciences and the humanities — all of it came to him with absolute ease.
He was, simply put, a born prodigy.
At that time, the orphanage also had a fairly serious problem of children bullying each other.
Minami Mao and the other adults were all aware of it.
But every time they tried to get to the bottom of it, the victims would always shrink back and refuse to speak up.
This gave the director and the others a tremendous headache.
Then, within a week of Minami Yuji’s arrival—
—several of the ringleader bullies collapsed in tears in front of Minami Mao, snot and tears mingling together, taking turns admitting their wrongs and apologizing to her.
Looking at the children crying in a heap before her, their faces full of fear—
Minami Mao opened her mouth, her eyes drifting involuntarily over to the other side, where Minami Yuji sat under the shade of a tree, chin propped in his hand, expressionlessly flipping through a book — and she swallowed.
To this day, she still didn’t understand what Minami Yuji had done.
All she knew was that, from that point on, whenever a ‘troublemaker’ child was transferred into the orphanage, within a day or two — or at most two or three days — they would, without fail, come to her on their own and bow their heads in admission of guilt.
And so, in practical terms, Minami Yuji had become the orphanage children’s ‘supreme commander.’
To the point that, on ordinary days, most of the children couldn’t even look at him without an inexplicable awe in their eyes.
As a result, Minami Yuji quickly became a favorite at the orphanage director’s side.
Basically any charity-related social engagement she had to attend, she’d bring him along — there was no helping it: little Minami Yuji was simply too useful.
He was particularly good at conning…
ahem, ‘con’ isn’t quite the right word here — as the ‘poor little thing’ role at a charity function, Minami Yuji was just too skilled at wringing tears out of other people.
Time passed, the years slipped by like white horses through a crack, and now the moment had arrived at today.
Minami Yuji, age 8 this year.
And the most crucial thing was—
“Through systematic study, your Acting skill has improved by a small increment.”
“Your skill: Acting has leveled up.
Current level: LV8.
Acting Trait unlocked: Born Star.”
“Oh?”
Minami Yuji, who had been listless for ages, finally took some interest.
This trash heap of a system had actually given a notification today — a rare thing.
He extended his finger out in front of him.
An exceptionally simple, pale-blue light screen unfolded itself horizontally before him.
‘Cultivation User: Minami Yuji.’
‘Life Stats: Intellect 8, Appearance 9, Athletics 8.’
‘Currently Cultivated Skills: Study LV8, Acting LV8, Modern Mixed Martial Arts LV9.’
‘Currently Unlocked Traits: ① Study Maniac (Addicted to learning, you possess the ability to rapidly pick up any skill.)
② Superhuman Physique (Through years of athletic training, your physical conditioning surpasses that of most adults.
You possess extraordinary dynamic vision, recovery, and stamina.)
③ Born Star (This is the fruit of your hard work.
You, who have polished your craft day and night, are beyond doubt a true natural-born star.
The moment you step onto the acting stage, your performance will draw the attention of every soul present.)
‘Limit Mode: Not Activated (Activate?
Yes / No?)’
‘Cultivation Game Evaluation: Good heavens!
As a human being, you are already a sufficiently perfect creature!
Just how much more perfect do you intend to become?’
Minami Yuji’s gaze skipped past these miscellaneous options and lingered on the ‘Cultivated Skills’ row.
“Acting at LV8, huh.”
He let out a satisfied breath and stretched himself out broadly.
Then he kept looking at the stat panel in front of him…
and the longer he looked, the more the corner of his mouth twitched, his face filling with distaste.
There was nothing strange about Minami Yuji reacting this way.
Because, if you only looked at the gorgeous numbers on this system page, perhaps some people would assume that having this system meant his life was already completely smooth sailing — nothing but a flat road ahead.
But in reality—
—that wasn’t how it worked at all!
Because this cursed contraption and your average ‘System!
Show me your limits!’ wave-of-the-hand stat-allocation system were two entirely different beasts!
This one leaned much more toward the ‘Minami Yuji, show me your limits!’ type.
The specific procedure required Minami Yuji to first set a target skill to cultivate.
For example, the direction Minami Yuji had set his system toward was ‘Acting.’
As a result, Minami Yuji, the user, had to work hard to learn everything related to acting.
It was sort of like a game.
As long as Minami Yuji was willing to put in the work to ‘grind mobs and clear dungeons,’ he would definitely earn ‘experience points’ related to ‘Acting.’
At this point, someone surely had a question.
If Minami Yuji slacked off and lazed around without learning anything, what sort of system support would he get?
Sorry, no such luck.
If he didn’t actively go out and learn, he naturally got nothing.
That might sound like a stating of the obvious, but applied to something as lofty-sounding as a ‘system,’ it was a different story.
The kinds of things other web novel protagonists could handle with just a wave of the hand and a few free stat points, Minami Yuji had to study until he was practically coughing up blood to achieve.
In other words, beneath each gorgeous row of data Minami Yuji had on his panel was the sediment of his sweat and blood across days and nights!
The Study skill at LV8 had taken Minami Yuji two years, and he’d nearly studied himself to puking before he managed to light it up.
Modern Mixed Martial Arts at LV9 had taken Minami Yuji a full three years.
With a pair of iron fists, he’d beaten countless troublemakers in the orphanage to tears — you could say he’d fought his way from the east wall of the orphanage all the way to the west wall, and when there was no one left to fight, he’d been reduced to drilling on his own every day.
Including his current Acting at LV8 — that, too, had been unlocked only after Minami Yuji came to Tokyo and put in half a year of study, day and night, paired with the ‘Study Maniac’ trait.
All these various results were indeed related to this devilish system — but the connection wasn’t actually all that strong.
Because as long as you didn’t bother to study hard, this system was, in effect, nonexistent.
Of course, that wasn’t to say this cultivation system was bad.
On the contrary, the very ability of ‘effort always yielding reward’ was, in itself, already terrifying enough.
After all—
“In this world, there are plenty of things where, even if you put in the effort, you don’t necessarily get rewarded for it.”
Leaning back in his lounge chair, Minami Yuji raised his gaze.
Back when he had first transmigrated into this world, he had already begun to notice certain things.
For instance: that idol with the surname Hoshino, who was discovered by fans murdered in her own home.
Or, for another example: Sakurajima Mai, a wildly popular child star whose fame was at its zenith.
Or, for yet another example, the one he’d run into today…
“Arima Kana…”
He murmured the name to himself.
The Minami Yuji of his previous life hadn’t been particularly fond of watching anime, but the names of these 2D female characters — as long as you scrolled through any of the young people’s news sites or feeds — were basically common knowledge.
Now, perhaps at this point, some people might think — isn’t that a good thing?
Becoming a koyaku, then taking it one step further to becoming a top-tier koyaku, having relationships with these beautiful 2D heroines, falling into a passionate love affair…
wasn’t that the very thing countless male and female otaku dreamed of?
But the problem was…
was there even a single 2D heroine who wasn’t a problem girl?
Some had inexplicably venomous tongues.
Some had genuine psychological issues.
And some were prone to wishing for death at the drop of a hat, sporting multiple personalities…
Even in the anime itself, they were that hard to handle.
Make Minami Yuji deal with them in real life?
Wasn’t that just a complete joke?
He was only an eight-year-old kid!
In truth, Minami Yuji really hadn’t wanted to involve himself with the dejected Arima Kana today.
But he’d had no choice.
The reason was simple—
White Coastline was the first proper film Minami Yuji had ever acted in — the first to actually feature his supporting role under its own name — not one of those flash-by ‘Child A’ or ‘Child B’ credits in the end roll.
He couldn’t just stand by and watch as Arima Kana, the female lead, ruined her performance and turned a project he’d finally managed to land into a mess — do you have any idea how rare opportunities to actually appear on screen and act are for an unknown koyaku like him?
But now that he’d already done it, he wasn’t about to regret it.
“Haahhh—”
Minami Yuji let out a small sigh.
He had to admit, this thing called life never went entirely smoothly.
Just like with his decision to become a koyaku — or, more accurately, the fact that he had no choice but to become one.
The orphanage he had been womb-transmigrated into was located on a small island near Okinawa.
That was a fairly remote place.
With sea winds eroding everything and the orphanage long since fallen into disrepair, even when kind-hearted people were willing to donate, faced with the steadily increasing number of orphans, the tight room allocations, and the building areas that needed repair, that money was little more than a cup of water against a burning cart.
More than once, he had watched Director Minami Mao running around for money — already worn into illness by accumulated exhaustion, even coughing up blood — and still, every single night, bowing and scraping on the telephone to contact charity organizations.
Mortals scurry about in a flurry, all just to scrape together a few coins of broken silver — and yet it’s precisely those few coins of broken silver that can dissolve every kind of flurry in this world…
Who doesn’t want to live out their life in plain, ordinary happiness?
Minami Yuji was no exception, really.
But he couldn’t afford to be plain.
He was a worldly man, and he knew it: he had to survive in this industry.
And not merely survive.
He had to become a runaway hit!
Earn massive money!
So!
He had to grind himself down!
Relying on the system — grind, grind, grind!
And then keep on grinding!
And then—
—hold onto that one small patch of land where he had been womb-transmigrated.
His thoughts having reached this point.
Minami Yuji patted his cheeks and forced himself to perk up, turning his gaze to the desk in front of him.
On the desk lay a fresh audition invitation, along with a thick script — He and She.
Excellent!
Minami Yuji’s spirits revived.
This time, he would not get tangled up with any 2D heroines again!
He would mind only his own business!
And he would smoothly stand out from among the swarm of koyaku and land this audition!
…
Meanwhile, on the other side—
“Minami Yuji…
Minami Yuji…”
Muttering the name under her breath, little white socks planted on a stool, Arima Kana grumbled as she searched the internet for any information she could find on the boy.
The reason she was searching for that guy was that, by any measure, he had done something incredibly rude to her.
Yes.
Every time she thought of what had happened today, Arima Kana felt absolutely furious.
Those round little cheeks of hers puffed out with a ‘pomf,’ just like a hamster’s.
For the first time!
For the first time someone had stared at her with that kind of disgust all over his face!
And then lectured her at length from such a high-and-mighty perch!
And in the end, he’d even…
Arima Kana lifted her fingers.
She subconsciously stroked the strands of hair beside her ear.
She still remembered, even now, the feeling of his hand reaching out to stroke her head as he had walked away.
It had been a kind of…
soothing, comforting stroke.
No!
She shook her head vigorously.
Arima Kana puffed her cheeks out again.
“Apologize!
He absolutely has to apologize to me!”
That was right!
How dare he treat her — a genius koyaku — that way!
She had to make that little nobody of a koyaku, the one she couldn’t even find by searching the internet, understand the weight of the word ‘senpai’!
The little devil in her heart was running back and forth, whispering in her ear.
But…
after he apologizes…
then what…?
The little devil in her heart slowly faded away.
Arima Kana quickly arrived at that question.
And then—
She gave a haughty little ‘hmph,’ looking thoroughly stuck-up.
“Well then, I’ll just begrudgingly let him be my friend.
With how arrogant that guy looks, he definitely doesn’t have any friends, after all.”
With a little ‘ooph,’ Arima Kana flopped face-down onto the bed.
At the edge of the pillow, her bright, sun-like eyes peeked out.
Lately, things had been nothing but bad in the industry.
Her popularity dropping, her mother not understanding her…
But—
For some reason, every time she thought of what had happened today, Arima Kana couldn’t help hugging her pillow and rolling back and forth on the bed with a delighted ‘tumble-tumble-tumble.’
It was the very first time she had ever looked forward this much to tomorrow’s day in the industry.
And on the floor not far behind her lay a thick script.
On its cover, several large characters were clearly visible.
She and He.