Idol Daughter's Dimensional Group Chat

"Oh, don't be like that. It'll only take a moment." Her calm, friendly smile didn't quite hide the underlying motive behind her words.

Did I just walk into something sketchy? Could she be dangerous? No, that doesn't make sense—someone like that wouldn't be running an academy, or whatever she mentioned earlier.

"Don't wanna."

She chuckled softly, clearly amused. Why should I go along with her? It sounds like a hassle. Yet, her smile returned just as quickly, unfazed by my response.

"Then, could you tell me... about this book?" she asked, reaching over to close the textbook I'd been reading.

No, I don't want to. Why—? You know what, fine.

"As you can see, it's a human anatomy textbook."

"Oh my, and what makes it different from the others in this library?"

"..."

"..."

"It shows real cadaver photos instead of illustrations."

Her smile didn't waver, silently urging me to keep going.

"It costs $101.75 on Amazon."

Her expression faltered for a moment. Then, a faint smile and a suppressed laugh escaped her lips, drawing a few curious glances from around the room.

Thought Communication Translation: Oh, how adorable. Even geniuses worry about money. That's it—I'll sponsor her. She's clearly interested in medicine; maybe that's the path she'll choose!

What a way for a misunderstanding to start...

"Yes, yes... I suppose that's enough," she said, pausing before introducing herself. "I'm Miyano Kagurazaka. It seems I've met another genius—besides my son, that is."

It turned out she was a renowned researcher, and she wanted me to join an academy for prodigies. But it wasn't what I imagined. It wasn't just another "academy"—it was more like a college for younger students, with advanced coursework far beyond a regular school.

She didn't explain all of that directly, though. I pieced all thoughts through reading her mind. Instead, she asked me a series of questions, like:

"Do you want to be a physician when you grow up?"

"What would you like to major in if you go to college?"

"How much have you been preparing for it?"

An academy for prodigies, huh? Not like I'd struggle now that I have Great Sage, but now that you mention it...

Ruby and Aqua already had clear goals—Ruby with her dream of becoming an idol, and Aqua with his acting career. Honestly, I was happy enough just living with this new family. But maybe chasing a goal of my own wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Idols and actors are often grouped into artistic careers—paths that, in the past, parents rarely supported. The risks were too high: unstable income, relentless rejection, public scrutiny, and the constant challenge of making a sustainable living through art.

Even artistic results that anyone would consider a "masterpiece" don't guarantee success. It could be pirated or dismissed entirely. A film might end up on torrent sites, or a song uploaded to YouTube could be turned into an MP3 with a simple online converter tool.

That being said, "Kagurazaka" is quite familiar... where have I heard it again?

.

.

.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

My steps were unhurried, the setting sun painting the world in warm hues as I strolled home. The golden light kissed my skin and softened the edges of everything around me.

In my hand was her business card—simple, yet unforgettable.

She had handed it to me after a moment of thought. "Asking for her parents' number might seem odd," she had reasoned to herself. "Since she's like Yu-chan, I'll treat her as an adult, not a child." Her words, or at least how magic sense interpreted them for me, stuck in my mind.

I glanced at the card in my right hand. My left hand stayed in my hoodie pocket, holding the strap of my backpack while the rest hung loose behind me.

"Academy for Prodigies," I muttered. The woman had said little about herself but spoke at length about the academy. She even offered to recommend me, going as far as promising sponsorship for my tuition.

I wasn't sure how to feel about it yet. If the students there were truly "prodigies," as they called them, they shouldn't be as childish as my current classmates. Just a few days ago, I was already thinking about skipping grades. This, though—this felt like an unexpected gain.

"Should I ask mom?"

Thud Thud Stop.

I came to a deliberate halt as the familiar road and place greeted me once more. I was home.

Sliding the researcher woman's name card back into my pocket, I approached the grand entrance of my house.

"Welcome back, young miss."

This time, a different bodyguard greeted me at the entrance. That was unusual—there was still an hour before the next shift.

"Good work, Morishita-san," I said, studying her. "But... where's Yoshifumi-san?"

The woman standing before me had blonde hair tied neatly in a ponytail, cascading down to her waist. She wore the same crisp uniform as the others, her serious demeanor matching the role.

Though her name, Tokie Morishita, sounded Japanese, it felt anglicized. Magic sense caught traces of French in her thoughts, subtly translating her musings. Despite her flawless native-level Japanese, her mind spoke in another rhythm entirely.

"I came for an early shift, Yoshifumi-san is still with the rest of your family, in addition, the boss had another bodyguard with him. He's off to his workplace." The 'Boss' in her sentence was nonother that uncle president.

"Um... Well, don't overwork yourself", I said that not for nothing, she does overwork herself after all these years that I've seen her. After telling her that, I walked past her into the open door that she opened.

Though my steps come to a halt at her words.

"...Young miss, I'm sorry if I am overstepping. But please call for me, or take a bodyguard with you if you're stepping outside. "

Those words made me look at her face. Well, like I said, she's overworked, a pure workaholic. She's an eccentric one, so much that even anything being picked by magic sense always translated into any sentence related to her job. Even the other bodyguards aren't like this...

"I'll keep that in mind the next time."

"Pardon me."

"It's fine."

After our brief exchange, I noticed the upstairs lights were on, the only brightness in the house. Stepping into the living room, I took in the seamless space that flowed into the kitchen. A cozy couch and small table sat neatly on the east side.

To the west, the pool near the backyard door glowed softly. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and its shimmering reflection danced through the tall windows, faintly lighting the darkened room.

Click.

I switched on the lights and dropped my bag on the couch. Afterward, I stripped off my clothes and headed for the bathroom. Though I called it a shower, I soaked myself in the hot water of the filled bathtub instead.

"Haa~~"

The warmth seeped into my skin, easing every tense muscle. My thoughts drifted to the woman's earlier question: "What do you want to be when you grow up?"

The question replayed in my mind as I slid further into the water until it reached my mouth.

'Should I take a business major?'

The idea surfaced briefly, but I dismissed it. There wasn't much point. I could just monitor the stocks my family had invested in and laze around. The president had assured us that Strawberry Production had stable in-come, and our new idols were thriving. Even if I did nothing, Great Sage could handle the stocks for me.

Still, it wasn't as though the president ran our household. This house belonged to Mom, thanks to the financial moves I'd made in the past—moves she didn't even know about.

Despite all that, we lived like one big family: us and the Saitous.

I sighed, bubbles rising as I exhaled into the water.

Then, out of nowhere:

"Oi, you're there, aren't you?"

I addressed the system directly.

Ding.

A bright, translucent window appeared.

[...Don't you feel the slightest shame taking your clothes off in front of me?]

"Huh... weird." I tilted my head slightly, my voice calm and nonchalant as I said, "What, are you lusting over a 12-year-old girl?" Even if I were older, this would still be my reaction—a mix of bluntness and indifference.

I've always thought of myself as an old soul—maybe even an old (wo)man at heart. If anyone were to lust after me, they'd be the weird one, not me.

[As I've told you, I'm not a system. I was your friend in your previous life. So please, warn me next time before you strip.]

"So you're the creator of the system?"

[Well no...]

Lies, lies I say.

[First of all... the system is blue, I'm purple.]

Bruh

[Bruh]

.

.

.

Scooping some water with my hand, I stared at the ripples, a memory surfacing. The words "previous life" lingered in my mind. Back then, this water might have been blood spilled during the war. Now, it was fragrant, soapy bathwater.

"Were you a soldier in my previous life too?" He said he was my friend, so I asked that question without thinking, though I was not expecting an answer either.

But then:

[No, I wasn't.]

The response surprised me. No one had been close to me back then except my little sister, and that was far from anything military.

[Don't worry about your sister. After your death, the war ended. She pursued a medical career and recently earned her Ph.D.]

"Eh? What? But we were poor..."

[She was sponsored by the emperor. You were recognized as a war hero. She's living well now—I made sure of that. I have a little sister too, after all.]

His words made me freeze.

"You... made sure?" I sat up abruptly, water cascading off my body as the cold air bit at my skin.

What does that suppose to mean? Did I befriend a god in my past life without knowing it?

[!!!]

"Hm?" What's with all the exclamation marks?

[I told you to warn me...]

I didn't respond. Instead, I crouched by the bathtub, feeling through the soapy water to find the drain. My fingers brushed against it, and I pulled the plug.

As the water swirled away, I stepped out, grabbing a towel to dry off. While wrapping it around me, I asked a question, almost to no one.

"Then, for now, if not 'the system,' what should I call you?"

The question was, of course, for him. Almost immediately, the familiar chime of the system echoed in my ears.

[You can call me "Shun"]

.

.

.

To be continured.