Tokyo, Suginami District.
The smell of mold was the first thing that hit him.
Ren opened his eyes, feeling like a drill had bored straight through his skull.
He didn't recognize the stained ceiling. He didn't recognize the cramped, messy room. And he definitely didn't recognize his own hands when he held them up to his face.
They were younger. Paler.
"What the hell?" Unexpectedly, he was speaking perfect Japanese—a language he shouldn't know.
A minute ago, he was Alexander, a miserable thirty-year-old corporate wage slave, dying of stress in an office, drowning in bills and coffee.
And now, an avalanche of foreign memories slammed into his brain.
Ren Kudo. 18 years old. Orphan. High school student in Tokyo.
He shot up in bed, gasping for air as he processed this new reality.
He looked at the calendar on the wall, the Japanese characters, the school uniform hanging on the chair.
"You've gotta be kidding me," he whispered, but there wasn't a shred of panic in his voice.
He touched his face. The skin was smooth, free from the lines of exhaustion.
His back didn't ache anymore.
Fear? Panic? What a load of bullshit!
A slow, predatory smile began to curve his lips until it twisted into a psychopathic grin.
"It's over," he said aloud, testing his new voice. "No more reports... no more moronic bosses and no more shitty life."
He fell back onto the old mattress, chuckling under his breath—a dark, liberating laugh.
"Transmigration, huh?" He looked at the ceiling with defiance. "Well, thanks for the one-way ticket."
In his past life, he was just cattle.
But here... here, Ren Kudo had only one fucking goal: To Enjoy.
!
But his moment of introspection was cut short by a sharp, painful buzzing drilling into the base of his skull. Then, neon blue text burned into his retinas, floating like an augmented reality interface.
[DOMINATION SYSTEM: INITIATED]
[Subject Analysis: Ren Kudo (Ex-Alexander).] [Diagnosis: Pathological desire for pleasure and zero moral restraints.]
[Conclusion... Perfect Candidate.]
[Prime Directive: Hunt the "Untouchables." This world is populated by High-Value Targets. They aren't just women, they are protagonists. Break them, dominate them, and make them yours to unlock rewards money can't buy.]
He blinked repeatedly, but the letters didn't vanish. A slow smile curved his lips.
"A game system?" he murmured. "Fuck yeah. Now we're talking."
No panic.
No existential questions.
He understood the rules of the game instantly: the universe had just handed him a loaded gun and pointed out the victims.
[Current Phase: Tutorial / Daily Life.]
"I don't care about the phase," he said smugly. "Hand over my welcome gift. I'm not starting empty-handed."
The interface flickered.
[Welcome Package: UNLOCKED]
[Obtained: Psychological Thriller Masterpiece - "6 Days, 6 People, 6 Guns".]
He felt a jolt... like liquid ice being injected straight into his brain.
Images, dialogue, plot twists... A complete story unraveled in his mind in milliseconds.
It wasn't just any story; it was a psychological slaughterhouse.
Six strangers locked up, dark secrets, a revolver, and a sadistic game of survival.
It was the kind of dark, addictive shit people devoured.
"Six Days..." Rubbing his temples, he absorbed the sheer brilliance of the plot. "This isn't a book; it's a fucking gold mine."
Getting out of bed, he ignored the mess in the room and sat down in front of the old laptop on the desk.
His plan was simple: Sell this. Get rich and start living like a king.
He opened the browser and typed: "Best Light Novel Publishers Newcomer Awards."
The screen flickered and spat out a list of results. He was about to click the first one at random, but his finger froze over the mouse.
The logo at the top of the search result.
It was a stylized red badge he knew too well... Way too well.
[Fushikawa Publishing - Grand Prize Fantasia Bunko]
Frowning, he leaned closer to the screen.
"Fushikawa...?"
The name gave him a solid case of déjà vu. This publisher... this name belonged to...
His mind clicked.
"Hold up a fucking second." An absurd suspicion started to form in his head. "That logo is from the Saekano anime—"
THUMP
But before he could process it, a dull thud on the other side of the wall snapped him out of his thoughts.
The slam was immediately followed by a terrified female shriek.
"Mom! Please, wake up! Mom!"
Curious, Ren got up, moved to the door, and peered through the peephole.
And there she was…
An imposing figure, jet-black hair cascading over her school uniform. Even in that state of absolute panic, the impeccable curve of her legs was visible beneath her black stockings.
Utaha Kasumigaoka.
The famous novelist and the "Poison Tongue" of Toyogasaki Academy.
"Goddamn it," Ren laughed dryly.
The Fushikawa Publishing logo, the name Sobu that sounded like an anime, everything clicked in an instant.
He was in a crossover anime world... one packed with female protagonists who were now his targets.
But the part that made him smile wasn't the girl; it was the scenery. She was living in this damp-smelling shithole?
The Utaha from the anime was upper-middle-class and would never be caught dead here.
"So the plot might not follow the anime," he murmured, his eyes glittering. "And her fall is deeper than I remembered."
He backed away from the peephole and yanked the door open.
Kneeling, Utaha was hugging a pale, unconscious woman, her wine-red eyes now saturated with terror.
"Ku... Kudo-san..." Her voice broke when she saw him. "My mother... I don't know what's wrong with her! She passed out!"
But Ren didn't move a muscle on his face, quickly pulling out his phone.
"Shut up and breathe," he ordered. "Crying is useless."
He dialed the emergency number (911) and began speaking in a professional, calm tone.
"Yes, I need an ambulance. Suginami District, address [X]. Middle-aged woman, unconscious. Unresponsive to stimuli."
"..."
Utaha was paralyzed.
Her desperation withered before Ren's cold efficiency. She stared at his perfect face, her mouth hanging slightly open.
She didn't expect a hero... but she didn't expect this kind of calm either.
...
The smell of desperation filled the waiting room.
Utaha's mother disappeared behind the double doors of the ER, surrounded by nurses.
Ren stayed back, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, watching the scene with total detachment.
Minutes later, a doctor stepped out and pulled down his mask with a tired gesture.
"Family of Kasumigaoka Haruko?"
Utaha jumped to her feet.
"I'm her daughter! How is she?"
"Subarachnoid hemorrhage," the doctor dropped the bomb without anesthesia. "We need to perform a decompression craniotomy right now."
!
Utaha clamped her hands over her mouth, stifling a sob.
"But first..." the doctor lowered his voice, his eyes showing a trace of pity. "I need you to go to administration. The initial deposit for the operating room is five hundred thousand yen. Without payment, we cannot proceed."
"..."
Ren watched Utaha's shoulders slump, as if the weight of the world had just snapped her spine in two.
"Fi... Five hundred thousand?" she whispered, her face going from pale to ashen.
"I'm sorry," the doctor said.
Utaha turned toward the hallway, walking like a zombie, biting her lower lip so hard she could almost taste the blood.
Ren followed her with his eyes, analyzing the situation.
Five hundred thousand yen. About three and a half grand. For the Utaha he expected, this was pocket change. But for this girl, the one living in the apartment next door... that was a death sentence.
So the neighborhood rumors were true, he thought, connecting the dots.
He recalled the old hags in the building gossiping. The father's car accident and death. The massive debt. The bankruptcy. The Kasumigaoka family had gone from middle class to destitute in a couple of months.
And now, with the mother out of the picture, Utaha was alone.
Alone, broke, and desperate.
And faced with those adjectives, Ren smiled.
In his previous life, he might have felt pity. He might have even cried about how unfair the medical system was.
But right now, he didn't see a tragedy. He saw an opportunity.
Romance? Wooing her slowly? Fuck that.
He'd been a wage slave long enough to know that love is expensive and time is money. He didn't want to play boyfriend.
And fate had just placed Utaha Kasumigaoka's leash right in his hand.
All he had to do was yank it.
He watched Utaha return from the payment window, dragging her feet, her gaze lost on the floor and a crumpled form in her fist.
Obviously, her card had been declined.
Ren peeled himself off the wall and stepped into her path.
"Need a hand?"
Even though he was an orphan, he'd scraped together over a million yen over the years. And he'd have even more soon with that system novel.
Utaha looked up, startled, as if she had forgotten he was even there.
"Kudo-kun..." Her eyes, red and puffy, hesitated as she tried to force a smile. "It's not necessary. I know I have emergency savings... maybe I can get…"
"Let me be brutally honest, Utaha-san," Ren said.
He stepped a little closer, closing the distance, but kept that reassuring smile plastered on his face to put her at ease.
Time to tighten the noose, he thought, noting the tremor in the girl's hand.
"You have nothing. Your balance is zero, and your mother is dying. By the time you scrape that cash together, it'll be a week from now, not ten minutes. And by then..."
He paused deliberately, letting the heavy implication of death sink in.
"The condition is simple," he said, smiling with genuine warmth. "I give you the five hundred thousand yen right now, so your mother gets into that operating room. And in exchange... you keep me company for a month."
His gaze lingered briefly on her thick thighs that her clothes couldn't fully hide, before snapping back to her eyes
"Think it over carefully, Utaha-san," he continued in a reasonable tone. "A corporate drone in Tokyo barely pulls in three hundred grand a month. I'm offering you nearly double that for just one month of compan—"
Smack
Pure desperation accelerated the blow, sending Utaha's palm violently toward his cheek.
But with reflex-like speed, Ren tilted his head to the side—a minimal evasion—allowing the hit to just graze his face without connecting fully.
The contact, though a miss, felt like an electric shock.
"Get out!" Utaha screamed, a howl torn from her throat as tears began to flow. "You filthy piece of shit! Get the fuck out of my sight!"
Straightening up, Ren gently touched his grazed cheek. His smile didn't fade.
In fact, it grew wider.
"You can insult me all you want, Utaha-san. You have every right," he said, his voice unshakeable, almost paternal. "But hurling insults won't save your mother."
"The offer stands. Anytime." He walked slowly toward the exit, not looking back. "But remember what the doctor said. She will die. I'll always be here for you. Just think about if your pride... is worth more than your mother's life."
"..."
Paralyzed in the hallway, Utaha shook convulsively—not from rage, but consumed by a crushing agony that had wiped every trace of disgust from her eyes.
When her lips parted, her voice was reduced to a single whisper.
"In your dreams..." But the conviction was gone.
Ren ignored her and disappeared.
________
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