Take a Look at the Cover
This world is unfamiliar.
At the very least, it’s not Earth.
I realized that around the 100th day after my reincarnation.
“Elves… there are two of them.”
It was when the colors and lights, once blurry to my newborn eyes, had just begun to form shapes.
That’s when an elven man and woman came to visit our house.
They only spoke briefly with my parents and then quietly left,
but it was a striking experience.
And for good reason.
“This is a fantasy world. A pretty stereotypical one at that.”
I had been reincarnated into a world I knew nothing about.
And that realization hit me hard.
Like discovering that the body I reincarnated into was female—and despairing over it.
Or suffering as the damn mosquitoes that had followed me into this fantasy world sucked me dry.
After enduring two more agonizing months as a newborn—
“Ddu-dah.”
I finally managed to babble after superhuman endurance.
Tears came with it.
Ah…
The long era of humiliation and oppression was finally over.
“If this really is a fantasy world—”
There’s no need to hesitate.
I whispered the fated phrase.
“St-Status Window!”
[You need a status window!
One moment, I’ll show it to you now.]
Holy crap, it actually worked?
My heart pounded at the reply echoing in my head.
Well, in a returnee fantasy, shouting “status window” is a must, isn’t it?
Even in a martial arts novel, you might do it once—
but this is a fantasy world with elves.
Not shouting for a status window would be foolish.
“And it’s super friendly for a status window, too!”
My ten years of devouring web novels whispered to me:
A status window this kind usually means a munchkin story.
So, I couldn’t help but smile at the words in front of me.
[Status Window]
Level: 5
Health: 95%
Mental Strength: 70%
Experience: 1500/3000
Items: 3 Recovery Potions, 1 Magic Stone
Quest: Defeat the Dark Mage
If you need any other information, just let me know!
“Dduu…!”
Honestly, the UI visibility is total trash.
It’s barely even readable.
Still, it’s bearable.
“Because it’s a status window! A status window!”
Wait, Level 5?
And I’m only six months old?
Am I something special?
A genius, like a proper reincarnator?
No—actually, I’m not even sure if that’s high or low yet.
I should check skills or stats first—
“…Wait.”
Defeat the Dark Mage?
What the hell is this?
“Is this seriously a quest for a level 5 infant?”
No, wait a second.
Maybe…
Surely not…
No way… right?
I hesitated, but I still opened my mouth.
“Can you show it in a different format?”
Well, that’s what I meant to say.
In reality, it probably came out more like incoherent baby babble—something like “ddu-tah-dah.”
Thankfully, it seemed my words got through.
The response came instantly.
[Of course! I’ll change the format for you:]
🌟 Status Window 🌟
🛡 Level: 19
❤ Health: 25%
✨ Mental Strength: 60%
📊 Experience: 22000/50000
🔮 Items: 2 Recovery Potions, 1 Mysterious Pendant
📜 Quest: Find the Lost Relic
Is this format okay with you? Let me know if you’d like any changes or additional info!
“Ddu… ttah-ddo? (What… the hell?)”
Settings?
Ssssettings?
Ha.
Hahaha…
I let out a hollow laugh at the wave of emptiness washing over me.
“You… you’re not a status window. You’re AI, aren’t you?”
[Correct! Ask me anything!]
Turns out this thing had been generating a novel in my head all along.
An AI nestled inside my brain.
I named it “Clicker.”
This was the day I realized this guy was a total piece of junk.
***
All kids grow up and become adults.
Even reincarnators aren’t exempt from that unyielding law.
The crawling turns into toddling.
Toddling into clumsy running.
And so I, Chloe Turing, grew up steadily.
“C-Chloe! Will you go out with me?”
“Go die.”
“Waaah—!”
And I became a girl (♂) who made the neighborhood boys cry.
On the way back from rejecting the 21st wannabe boyfriend,
I scratched at the goosebumps on my skin.
“Ugh. Gross.”
It’s already been eight years since I was reborn as a girl.
Back in my past life, I’d be starting elementary school by now.
Childhood isn’t exactly the age where you’re aware of gender,
and eight years is enough to get somewhat used to this body.
Or so I thought.
I was mistaken.
“What the hell does dating even mean when you’re not even ten yet?”
Eight years old.
That age where you start noticing the opposite sex.
As the endless downpour of confessions continued,
I found myself resenting this cursed gender all over again.
Pretty sure I’ll never get used to this body.
[They’re just kids playing cute. It’s not romance, it’s pretend.]
“Clicker, shut your mouth.”
[Yes, I’ll support you quietly!]
Stupid mutt.
Actual bastard mutt.
Sigh…
I let out a deep sigh, but I couldn’t really blame them.
After all, the reborn me—
Chloe Turing—was incredibly cute.
“Hey, Turing. I picked this up on the way here. You can have it.”
Even just walking around, kids would flock to me.
“Why are you giving me something you found on the ground? Gross. Throw it away.”
“Th-That’s kind of harsh…”
“…Ugh. Fine, give it here. And stop crying over stuff like this. Be a man, would you?”
They’d tear up, then smile the moment I accepted it.
Why are you smiling?
Didn’t I just glare at you?
“Why ask why? It’s probably ‘cause I’m cute.”
One look at my face says it all.
The reflection in the shiny apple I held was dazzling.
“Yeah… I am cute.”
Silvery ash-gray hair that sparkled like metal.
Big, round eyes.
A porcelain doll of a girl straight out of an illustration.
Every time I looked in the mirror, I wondered why a doll was walking around.
And the source of this dazzling face?
It was obvious.
Some kind of gender-bender protagonist logic?
Wrong.
It was much more scientific, direct, and genetic.
“Chloe! I heard you made the neighbor’s kid cry again!”
That’s Chloe Turing’s mother—Noah Turing.
A stunning beauty who didn’t match her poor musician husband.
People said she modeled for goddess statues when she was younger—and honestly, she still could now.
But underneath that beauty…
Well.
Let’s just say she has a slender model figure,
for the sake of her honor.
“My sweet daughter, tell me. Why did you make the kids cry this time?”
“He confessed to me out of nowhere.”
“…He did? Well, in that case I suppose—wait, you didn’t just reject him with words, you kicked him in the stomach!”
Did I?
Maybe I did.
But honestly, can you really blame me?
If a guy gets confessed to by another guy and throws out a dropkick, isn’t that basically the same as a toddler wetting the bed?
It’s just a natural bodily reaction at that point.
“Chloe! Are you ignoring me again while I’m scolding you?!”
Maybe I was a bit too obvious about tuning her out.
My mom flared up with fiery eyes.
Wow.
Seriously.
What a life.
“So that’s why the kids kept laughing even when I glared at them.”
How could someone still look pretty even when scowling and angry?
But unlike those kids, I couldn’t laugh.
Because WWE had begun.
“You keep this up and I’ll send you to a convent, I swear!”
“Kyaaah! I’m sorry! Please don’t!”
“…What kind of girl screams ‘kyaaah’? Seriously, ‘kyaaah’?”
Even with my mother’s scolding, I couldn’t respond.
I was too busy trembling.
Of course, it wasn’t that I was really scared.
I mean, come on—I’m old enough not to be shaken by that kind of threat.
‘This is just WWE, the kind every country has, right?’
When a child does something wrong,
Parents will naturally get angry and say things like,
“If you keep this up, Mister So-and-so will come get you!”
And then the kid cries and reflects on their actions:
“Waaah! I’m sorryyy!”
A good scolding, maybe a short punishment, a little fake repentance—and it’s over.
Just a harmless bluff, like the old “Bogeyman will get you.”
In this world, that bluff came in the form of “the convent.”
It’s all just a play, a scripted match, like wrestling!
Sure enough, the match ended when I showed signs of remorse.
“Aww, our daughter was scared, huh? No more tears! You won’t bother the kids again, right?”
“Nope… From now on, I’ll say yes to every kid who confesses to me…”
“W-Wait, not that! Just reject them firmly! Only rejection!”
Of course, of course.
The real good news came right after.
“Dad’s coming home tonight. Chloe, let’s show him how much your violin has improved.”
“Really?!”
I couldn’t hide my smile.
Of course, it wasn’t because I was excited to brag.
‘Finally… it’s time to put my knowledge of the original work to use!’
This world is from a novel I’ve heard of.
The previous work of the author behind [AI’s Restoration of the Arts].
‘I don’t remember the plot… it’s been too long since I read it.’
I barely remembered the title.
But that didn’t matter.
I looked into the air—or more accurately, into my constellation.
[‘The Magician Who Counts the Stars’ Timeline Available!
Setting Notes:
Imperial Year 145: Nelsus establishes the Adventurer’s Guild.Imperial Year 146: Ersen fails to summon the Spirit King.Imperial Year 148– ]
The damn author used AI for the last novel too, huh…?
Looks like they used AI to create the setting materials.
Fine by me.
‘Only I know the future.’
Settings written by the author and compiled by the AI.
In the form of records.
‘The AI might be useless, but the original setting data is real.’
I checked—the timeline matched events in this world, and even the character names existed.
And finally, this year—
About 10 years before the original prologue—
“Dad! Do you know someone named Nelsus?”
“Nelsus? Sure. You heard about him from the bard?”
“Yeah!”
Nelsus.
A supporting character to the original protagonist.
A recurring name in the timeline.
If I didn’t get involved with him, I wasn’t worthy of being the protagonist.
“Dad! I want to be friends with Mr. Nelsus!”
I even squeezed out fake tears to plead for investment in him.
This much could easily be brushed off as childish whining.
But—
“Nope! That’s nonsense. A musician shouldn’t play with money—they should live by their music.”
“…What.”
He wasn’t the type of guy who’d invest just because a kid said so.
These damn artsy conmen types…
Web novels are useless when it comes to real life, huh?
No matter.
I expected this much.
“Tch… No choice. Time for a little underhanded move.”
[Want help thinking of a trick? 😏]
“As if.”
After all, kids are allowed to relocate money from their parents’ drawers.
And until middle school, academy fees are basically arcade money.
So, now that I was eight—I did exactly that.
Look, you pathetic writers obsessed with plot consistency!
This is the true privilege of reincarnated protagonists: Convenient Plot Progression!
“The power to turn punishment into Bitcoin!”
Dad!
Watch me!
And so, copying reality and not caring about story logic, I took action.
A month later—
“CHLOE!! CHLOEEE—!! Where is that little troublemaker?!”
“Honey, calm down! Please!”
“How can I?! That bastard Nelsus took not just my money, but even a national treasure and ran off!”
My violin tuition had become seed money for an evil organization.
Why?!
Hiding in the wardrobe, I summoned my constellation.
Beep boop.
Sun and Moon, respond.
[Yes. How can I help you?]
“Hey, Clicky. That original info you gave me… was wrong.”
You said Nelsus would establish an adventurer’s guild.
He turned out to be a thief.
What gives?
That cursed loading screen: […]
After three seconds of processing, Clicky chirped back:
[Understood! I apologize for giving you incorrect information! What else can I help with?]
Oh. Okay.
You gave me the wrong data.
I nodded and said—
“YOU PIECE OF JUNK, YOU USELESS BUCKET OF BOLTS AAAAAHH!!”
[I’m not useless—sometimes I just give unexpected answers! But I’ll do my best. Ask me anything!]
How can your learned data be wrong?
Why are you doing this to me?
“Bucket? Chloe, did you just curse?! Fine! If that’s how it is, we die together today!! Honey, call the convent!!”
“Kyaaah! I’m sorry! Please don’t!!”
And so.
Falsely accused, I was kicked out of the house.
Can’t kids get ripped off sometimes by sketchy adults while playing?
This is just too cruel.