Keika let out a long, silent sigh — the kind that belonged to souls utterly fatigued by cosmic inconvenience.
He pinched the bridge of his nose out of habit, a gesture carried over from his host club days. It was his way of rebooting mental composure, though at this point, even that felt like trying to restart a dead computer.
VRMMORPGs.The word itself felt like a fossil from his teenage years.
He was thirty-five now — long past the age of chasing "love harems" and far too accustomed to managing them for a living. And now, somehow, he was smack in the middle of what could only be described as a real-life isekai plot.
Truly, the universe had a sick sense of humor.
He put on his best polite smile — the same one he used for especially clingy clients who couldn't take a hint.
"Your Majesty, if I may," Keika began smoothly, every syllable polished. "I believe there's been a misunderstanding. I was merely an employee of the establishment that was... interrupted. It's highly likely I was brought here by accident — along with your actual hero and his companions. So, if it's all right, I'll just find the nearest exit and, uh, contact my consulate."
The King smiled.
Not kindly. Not regally. But with a slow, deliberate curl of the lips that sent an ice-cold shiver down Keika's spine.
"Sure," the King purred, his voice slipping into something low and intimate. "But we will have to talk first."
Keika froze.The blonde-haired monarch — beautiful in a way that made sculptors weep — licked his lips.And not the I'm being polite kind of lick.
Oh no.This was predatory.
Before Keika could process the incoming disaster, Jouzo — his ever-reliable partner in cowardice — made his move.
"Then I shall take my leave!" Jouzo declared, already halfway turned. Without waiting for permission, he grabbed the nearest terrified client and a few bewildered handmaidens. "We'll, uh, need baths! And food! Yes, lots of food!"
And just like that, he was gone.
Keika stared after him in mute betrayal.So much for brotherhood.
Resigned, Keika slipped the useless VVIP room key back into his jacket pocket — a meaningless gesture of comfort. His fingers brushed against the smooth brass, grounding him just enough to realize the King was descending from his throne.
The rustle of velvet robes echoed softly, almost sensually, as the monarch approached.
And Keika felt it — that vibe.The same dangerous, possessive energy he'd seen countless times before — in the eyes of clients who wanted to own him.
Except this time, it wasn't a woman.And it wasn't safe.
"Um… Your Majesty? What exactly are you doing?" Keika asked, his host-club tone cracking at the edges.
The King stopped a few feet away — close enough for Keika to smell the mix of perfume and something sharper. Ozone. Magic. Power.
"I am enjoying your figure," the King said softly, his eyes roaming from Keika's shoes to his perfectly knotted tie. "You awaken something in me, little bird."
Keika's composure twitched.
"Is my plain face really that stimulating?" he replied dryly, hoping sarcasm might serve as a shield.
The King took another step. His breath hitched. His hand trembled slightly as he reached forward.
"Give me your body…"
And that was it.
Every nerve in Keika's body screamed nope.His survival instincts — honed by years of dodging emotional landmines — took over.
He didn't think.He didn't chant.He just panicked.
"PLEASE DIE!" he yelled — pure reflex, pure terror.
The air cracked with a faint fwoomp of displaced space, and in the blink of an eye, Keika was gone.
The King's hand froze midair, grasping at nothing.
Keika stumbled into existence again, nearly crashing into a marble shelf. Dim light. Cool air. Rows of jars and wine bottles. A pantry, maybe.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid, uneven thump of his heart.
"What the hell was that," he muttered shakily.
He'd faced clingy clients, drunk nobles, and weeping debutantes. But a magic king with romantic aggression issues?There was no script for that.
He let out another long sigh, the kind that could drain a lifetime of exhaustion.
"I need a lock. I need a door. And I need to find Jouzo before that guy finds me."
He leaned back against the cold marble, the reality of his situation setting in like a hangover.
Somewhere in the distance, the King was probably plotting his next move.And Keika, the ex-host-turned-accidental-isekai-protagonist, realized one terrible truth:
This is why I hate clichés.