Chapter 1: The Encounter

Now then, let me ask you something right off the bat—are you familiar with what's known as a "red herring character"?

They show up in just about every genre. They’re easy to write, easy to get feedback on, and super convenient for authors to handle.

More often than not, they appear as losers in the story—obstacles for the protagonist or tools to wrap up loose plot threads. And once they've served their purpose? Tossed aside. They're the unfortunate ones.

Take that certain kid's manga, for example—you know, the one where they collect magical balls to summon a dragon? Yeah, someone like Yamcha. Treated like a throwaway, a classic sacrificial character.

But let me be clear: the type I'm talking about here is the red herring character in romantic comedies.

They come in all forms—childhood friends, the protagonist’s friend’s little sister, or even a stepsister. No matter how they show up, they usually lose to the main heroine. They're what you’d call "loser heroines."

I hated that. I mean, come on—can’t a romantic comedy just let us dream a little? That’s what I used to grumble back in high school, right after watching my favorite character get her heart broken.

So, what does all this have to do with me now, you ask?

Well——

"Dear, hold her for me."

"Uh… how do I even hold her…?"

"Ugh, c’mon, like this."

My head and back are supported, and I’m lifted into the air—though my weight makes it clear I’m not exactly floating.

"You gotta support her head like this. Babies can’t hold their necks up yet."

"O-Okay… like this…?"

The sensation of being passed from one pair of hands to another.

"There you go~! Say hi to Daddy~!"

"H-Hi there… uh, does she even know who I am?"

"Honestly, you’re hopeless. She can’t even open her eyes yet."

Then, deemed too fragile to handle, I'm promptly returned to my original position.

"Hey, did you decide on a name yet?"

"Yeah, actually. I did."

I can feel them looking at me. I can’t see outside yet, but I’m pretty sure they’ve got kind eyes.

"Towa. Your name is Edogawa Towa."

"Towa… That’s a lovely name. I love it. Towa… my and your child…"

"I wonder what kind of person she’ll grow up to be?"

"She’s your daughter, so I’m sure she’ll be sweet-natured."

"Look at that cute face. She’s definitely gonna be a beauty like you."

Against my will, a tiny sound escapes my throat—something I can’t control, like it’s just the natural order of things.

Somewhere nearby, a flustered man and a gently scolding woman move about.

"Oh dear, she needs a change. Honey, take care of it."

"Uh… okay, like this…?"

The part of me that had been covered is now exposed. And though it looks like nothing’s there, it’s unmistakably… female.

Yep. I’d been reincarnated as a girl.

And this? This is the story I’d look back on years later.

Edogawa Towa—that’s my name in this life.

At first, my sense of self was hazy, little more than scattered fragments. But bit by bit, the pieces came together, and only recently have I finally managed to sort myself out.

Now, let’s circle back to that initial rom-com remark.

I wasn’t joking. This world bears an uncanny resemblance to the setting of a massively popular rom-com manga from my past life.

Anata ni mo Atarimae no Koibana wo—or AnaKoi for short.

The protagonist, Tadano Yuuki, had no luck with women and carried a complex about never having been in love. The story revolved around heroines—who’d already fallen for him before the plot even began—trying to make him aware of their feelings.

The author outright stated there’d be no harem ending. Normally, I’d be all over that kind of setup, but I hated seeing heroines get left heartbroken. Still, my inner masochistic fanboy couldn’t resist diving in headfirst.

And how does that connect to my current situation? Well—

"Hellooo!"

"Oh, Yuuki-kun! My, what a polite greeting!"

"Hehe, is Towa home?"

"I think she’s in her room. Go on up."

"Kay!"

The sound of small feet thundering up the stairs echoes down the hall.

"Click—Towa, you there?"

And there I was.

Doing what?

Don’t ask stupid questions.

Staring… at the mirror.

"Even I have to admit… I’m ridiculously cute."

"What’re you doing?"

"Basking in the glory of my own perfection."

"…Towa, are you a narcissist?"

"…Shut up."

I mean, come on—getting called that by a five-year-old? That’s beyond embarrassing.

"Ahem—Greetings first."

"Oh, right! Hi, Towa!"

"Hello, Yuu-ki."

In this life, my role—no, my position—is that of the protagonist’s childhood friend.

Of course, I didn’t exist in the original story.