[Multiverse] I Became The Prime Minister In A Mashed Up Anime World

New York, Park Hyatt Hotel.

Toru Fujiwara stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of the luxury suite. The city stretched below him—a vast concrete jungle alive with endless movement. The skyline's shimmering glass and steel mirrored the early morning sun.

The room was pristine and extravagant, a 200-square-meter suite with an outdoor garden balcony offering an unmatched view of the city. Clothes lay scattered on the polished wooden floor. Black lingerie. Men's boxers. A tangle of fabrics bearing silent testimony to the night before.

The smell of passion lingered in the air, faint but undeniable.

On the bed, a woman stirred. Her light blonde hair cascaded over her bare back, catching the golden light streaming through the window. The curve of her silhouette peeked through the fallen quilt.

"Leaving already?" Her voice was a blend of lazy seduction and amusement.

Toru, half-dressed and fastening the buttons of his shirt, didn't turn. "My family messaged me. Something urgent came up."

The click of a lighter cut through the quiet.

The woman sat up, unbothered by her exposed figure. She lit a cigarette, her fingers slim and elegant, nails painted a subtle nude. Smoke swirled around her as she took a long drag.

"Chris," Toru started, adjusting his tie in the mirror, "don't overthink it. Last night wasn't a one-off. But I really do have to leave."

She smirked, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. "A family emergency, huh? Fine. But I'm calling you tonight. Let's grab drinks after your little audition."

Toru stepped into the bathroom, brushing his teeth quickly and washing his face. His reflection stared back at him, his sharp eyes betraying a moment of thought. It's been twenty years since I came to this world.

His memories had returned only a year ago, crashing into his mind like waves on a shore. He had realized then: this wasn't the real world. This was an anime world, where logic twisted, and his survival relied on more than brute strength.

A panel appeared in his mind, vivid and glowing with text only he could see:

[Name: Toru Fujiwara]

[Physical Fitness: 10]

[Skills: Learning, Sports, Mystical]

[Special Ability: Yin-Yang Eyes]

[Mission: Become the Prime Minister of Japan or the President of the United States]

Toru leaned on the sink. So, the "Golden Finger" really is activated now.

He had discovered its rules years ago: emotional connection. Every time he earned the genuine affection of a woman, he gained skill points or upgrades. It was a cold, calculating system masked behind romance.

But something had changed with Chris. She wasn't just any woman. She was Vermouth, a pivotal figure in the anime world. Her affection for him had granted an S-rank skill point, something no ordinary relationship could achieve.

"This world is cruelly simple," Toru muttered to himself. "Women's favorability equals strength."

He straightened his tie and stepped out.

Chris—no, Vermouth—was already off the bed, slipping into her lace underwear with practiced ease. She hooked the straps behind her back, her movements graceful and confident.

"Boy," she said with a teasing smile, "aren't you going to help me?"

Toru didn't move. His expression shifted subtly. He reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a Beretta M9-A3 pistol, silencer already attached. The motion was smooth, controlled.

Vermouth froze for half a second before her lips curled into a smirk. Slowly, deliberately, she turned to face him, unbothered by the gun aimed at her.

"You like sherry cocktails," Toru said calmly, his voice devoid of emotion. "Three-quarters sherry, one-quarter French vermouth. Sweet. Smooth. But with just a hint of bitterness."

Vermouth's green eyes sparkled with amusement. "How poetic."

Before Toru could react, she raised her hand. A compact pistol, sleek and deadly, materialized between her fingers. Its muzzle pointed directly at his chest.

The air between them crackled with tension.

"Do we need to do this, Toru?" Vermouth's tone was playful, but her grip on the weapon was steady.

Toru smiled faintly. "Do you think you'll walk out of here if I pull the trigger first?"

She chuckled softly, smoke trailing from her lips. "You're bold. I like that. But you know me better than this."

Both stood frozen in a dangerous dance, neither lowering their weapon.

"Toru Fujiwara," she said finally, her voice dropping an octave, "you and I are far from done."

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