I'd finally made it to a place I'd been dying to visit since arriving in this world.
"Here it is—the adult shop of this world, or as I like to call it, the A-duh-lt Shop."
It's located in the shopping district near the station closest to school—a hub for students commuting by train, including plenty from our academy. The vibe is local and lively, a chaotic yet familiar bustle filling the air. In my past life, I'd often detour here on my way home from school, so it feels like an old haunt.
Maybe it's the gender ratio shift in this world, though—some stores I remember are gone, replaced by ones I've never seen. Male clerks I used to know have been swapped out for unfamiliar women. It's that weird mix of recognizing a place yet feeling like it's foreign.
Navigating through the noisy familiarity of the shopping street, I slip into a dim back alley and walk a bit further. There it is: the shop. Its storefront screams adult store—glass walls that might've offered a peek inside plastered over with sexy posters and shady product ads, blocking any view of the interior.
"Textbook exterior, huh."
These days, adult shops don't usually lean this hard into the stereotype. Given its tucked-away location, it's probably an old-school, family-run joint. I knew of it in my past life but never had the guts to step inside. Curiosity? Sure. Courage? Not so much. Glad to see it's here in this world too.
"Well then, let's pay a visit."
I stride confidently up to the automatic doors and step in.
The moment I enter, the clerk at the counter glances my way. It's an old grandma. She gives me an "oh my" look but doesn't shoo me out. I'm not in my school uniform, but my age is probably borderline for passing as an adult. Still, with my hat pulled low, she seems to pick up on my youthful impulse and lets it slide—maybe out of kindness. I nod lightly in thanks and start browsing.
It's still early evening—maybe that's why it's quiet, or perhaps it's always like this. The shop's decently spacious, stocked with plenty of goods, but there are only a handful of customers: two at the DVD section, one flipping through books, and one in the adult toy aisle. All middle-aged women in suits—think company salarymen stopping by after work in my old world.
I weave past their backs and head straight for my target: the toy section.
"…Hmm."
The lady already there is grunting as she inspects an electric vibe. It's in her hand—a gnarly shape and size. No way I'd use that on Natsuki-san. If she got used to something like that, she might start saying stuff like "Hurry up and put it in" while I'm still doing my thing. I'd be crushed—probably drop out of school in despair.
Unaware of me behind her, the woman mutters to herself.
"They've got the new Black Thunder model out. Latest in a legendary line, but wired ones are such a hassle. Rechargeables overheat too fast, and battery-powered ones have that weird smell when they run—I can't stand it."
She's quite the expert. I'm intrigued, but there's no way I'm asking for advice. A master like her, honing her craft in obscurity—it's humbling. Gotta step up my game.
Anyway, where's the thing I'm after?
Scanning around, I finally catch the eye of the clerk. I bow slightly to this esteemed senpai, and she nods back awkwardly, still holding the Black Thunder with a strange expression.
I slip past her and venture deeper into the aisle. Along the way, I spot a rack of used boys' school uniforms—including some from my school. They're pricey for secondhand stuff. Or maybe because they're secondhand.
Reminds me of the old "burusera" days—used uniforms wrapped in plastic, dangling from the ceiling. I check a price tag on one. At a glance, I can't even tell how much it is.
"One, ten, hundred, thousand… ten thousand… huh? Seriously?"
Attached is a photo—someone hiding their eyes with their hand, like, "This was mine!" Kind of like those farmer pics next to veggies at the market. Okay, comparing them's rude, but you get the vibe. No guarantee it's legit, but that's the unspoken rule.
"Maybe I should sell mine if I'm ever strapped."
With prices like that, the payout'd be decent. I could sell what I'm wearing, buy a new one, and still come out ahead. My eyes meet the grandma clerk's again. She smiles—like she'd buy it. Tempting.
But that's a side note.
After wandering a bit, I finally spot my prize.
"Found it."
A little device for delivering subtle vibrations—a pink rotor. The price range fits nicely within my allowance (aka living expenses). What's it for? Let's just say I'm exploring infinite possibilities. Dreams expand with this thing, you know?
"Pretty good range, huh."
Most come as a set with a wireless remote, effective up to about ten meters.
"…That's anywhere in a classroom."
My expanded dreams zero in on a certain someone.
"But if I got caught doing that in class, I'd be toast."
Better nix the classroom idea. Still, using it on Natsuki-san's bed isn't quite the dream fragment I'm chasing either.
"Hmm. How about getting Natsuki-san to wear something different and trying it out on a walking date?"
She's gone from a friends-with-benefits who'd do anything I ask to one who'll do most things I ask. This should be fine. She might not jump at it—probably call me an idiot, a jerk, or a pervert first—but I can picture her grumbling, nodding reluctantly, and going along with it.
"Price-wise, it's down to these two. Guilty or Yuliano. Which one?"
I don't see much difference. Shapes are similar; only the remotes vary a bit.
"Might go with this pen-shaped remote."
Still hung up on school use, I pick the rotor with a pen-style remote—perfect for slipping into a chest pocket. The grandma clerk sees it, says "oh my" again, and packs it in a cute paper bag. No shop logo, just a plain design—could pass for stationery.
Even in this online-shopping era, this little store's thoughtfulness keeps it alive. Letting an obvious minor slide is a smart move for repeat customers too. I'll definitely be back. I bow again as I leave.
"Good haul."
Feeling a bit worn out, I stop by a big, glass-walled coffee shop to rest. Back in my old life, trendy cafés intimidated me—waste of time and money, I thought. But now that I'm a pretty boy who turns heads, I can't resist popping into crowded spots. Maybe it's backlash from a past life starved for attention.
Some women sneak glances; a few even snap pics with their phones. I pretend not to notice. Go ahead—look, snap away.
"A date around this shopping street could be fun, huh?"
It's close to school, which adds a thrill. If Natsuki-san's disguised enough, no one'd recognize her. I'll handle the outfit. I've been feeling bad for making her buy pricey underwear, so this'll be an apology gift.
"With the rotor included, of course."
I'm already pumped for our date.