After a reasonably satisfying lunch—though for him, it was more like breakfast at afternoon tea time—Akira stepped out of the café and hailed a taxi.
That was his main mode of transportation most of the time.
Since he transmigrated three years ago, Akira had always believed he was living in a typical mindless wish-fulfillment urban story.
First, there was the issue of age—he had already been a working twenty-year-old adult, and he crossed over without his age or body changing, just with a new identity.
No matter how you looked at it, it didn't lend itself to a youthful high school narrative.
Second, he was an abandoned child who had gone hungry in his early years.
After growing up and being able to work, he had chased money like a squirrel hoarding for winter—ruthlessly, insatiably greedy.
Naturally, he ran into many obstacles and, in the end, died from overwork. That alone fit the typical tragic-half-life-turned-glorious-storyline.
The only problem was, after dying from exhaustion once, Akira wasn't the least bit fired up about getting a second chance.
Instead, it felt like waking from a dream—he didn't even know what he had been struggling so hard for. In other words, he was questioning the meaning of life.
That said, people still have to find a way to survive.
So relying on his golden-finger ability, as most transmigrators do, Akira rose to the top like the protagonist of an urban supernatural story, living a mundane life where he had a car but couldn't be bothered to drive, always opting for taxis.
That was also why he believed he was on the path of an urban novel—his system was the epitome of brainless wish-fulfillment in the urban supernatural genre: Onmyoji.
He could read yin and yang, understand feng shui, divine fortune and misfortune, ward off disasters, perform funerals, and exorcise spirits.
Even negative restrictions like karma or five evils and three lacks were loosened.
It was so absurdly overpowered, it felt like watching Revolutionary Machine before a certain date in XXXX, where you felt your IQ being insulted.
But the actual experience? It felt so good, it was like watching Revolutionary Machine afterward and wanting to kneel and call it "dad."
Though readers often disliked such systems in novels, if it were real, who wouldn't love it?
For example, the Asai family's fortune turned around dramatically just months after Akira rearranged their courtyard and house layout.
Even the skeptical young heir had to treat him like a VIP—otherwise, his father and grandfather would've beaten him up.
Later, he accidentally stepped into a "wish-granting shop" and met a powerful witch, which made him realize he might actually be on a 2D fantasy route.
But not wanting to get entangled in her troublesome karmic drama, he made a wish while maintaining his distance, sticking firmly to his urban path.
Why choose suffering when you can live comfortably?
Getting off the cab in a relatively remote area, Akira keyed in a passcode and opened the gate to his yard—a lush, green garden nearly hiding the standalone villa behind it.
He had chosen this place precisely because the yard was big but the house wasn't.
A large yard allowed him to set up protective layouts to avoid disturbances, while a modest house helped him, a solitary resident, avoid feeling like he lived in a haunted mansion.
Not that he was afraid of ghosts.
Opening the front door and feeling the blast of cold air, Akira narrowed his eyes in satisfaction. Inside, a plump black long-haired cat met his gaze.
"Meow—"
"Shoo, shoo. Back inside."
He waved a foot in the air, herding the black cat back in. Only then did he have room to enter.
But as soon as he stepped inside, a second meow rang out—from the wall-mounted catwalk.
He looked up while changing shoes. A white cat followed him via the narrow walkway and jumped onto the fridge just as he opened it, peering inside curiously.
That white, elegant cat was named Shiro (Whitey), while the chubby black one was Kuro (Blackie)—clearly, Akira wasn't good at naming pets.
But when it came to raising cats, he was quite responsible.
His home had cat slides, cat towers, wall-mounted steps and paths, and cat holes in every room, letting his cats run wild throughout the house.
He was also a firm believer in keeping cats indoors. Even the windows were fitted with safety nets.
Grabbing a soda and scooping Shiro off the fridge, Akira flopped onto the couch, turned on the TV and PlayStation, and prepared to enjoy his day.
But when he heard strange meowing from the next room, he sighed, put down the controller, and went off to clean up cat poop.
If he had ambition, with his network and his unique social status among the elite, he could've had a real place in that world—not just been a shut-in cat servant.
But again, after dying once from overwork, he didn't know what he was striving for anymore. With no fear of hunger now, he had no drive.
He had a car, a house, money, cats, no relationship drama, and no social obligations.
It was an almost disgustingly comfortable life.
He had even tried the playboy lifestyle, only to find out that human joy and sorrow really didn't connect—drinking too much made him puke and get hangovers.
Gaming at home was far better. And so, this god-tier urban supernatural protagonist had turned himself into a lazy homebody.
His only "serious" pursuits were earning some pocket money or fulfilling the occasional request from the witch, as payment for his wish.
If nothing unexpected happened, Akira's life would've continued to drift along like this.
But a week ago, while buying games, he stopped by a bookstore and discovered a popular novel called Love Metronome—written by none other than Kasumi Utako.
Surprised, he took a cab to the publisher and coincidentally ran into Utaha—and also the Asai family's young master, who clearly had no good intentions.
At that moment, Akira found a short-term goal that interested him—one worth making an effort for.
Yes, it was that kind of somewhat indecent interest.
Akira knew full well that there was no emotional bond between him and Utaha.
His current "interest" was purely lust and the thrill of meeting a real-life version of a 2D waifu.
Whether they could get along or how he'd feel after the novelty wore off were still unknown.
If he were just being pursued, he could simply reject her.
But if he made the first move and didn't intend to take responsibility, that would be tasteless. So he proposed a deal—not a romantic conquest.
Getting physical would satisfy his desire. But if feelings got involved, that'd be a different story.
The heart-piercing words he said today at the café were mainly meant to drive a wedge.
After all, if Utaha still had feelings for Tomoya, the guilt and shame of the "deal" would be too heavy, and Akira's chances would plummet.
The secondary reason? He just couldn't stand it.
Covering your eyes and heart, forcing yourself to be indecisive and hesitant, basking in the joy of being pursued while fulfilling your dreams—sure, maybe it was a kind of talent.
But in Akira's eyes, it was still distasteful.
Having finished washing his hands, Akira lay back on the couch.
The freshly relieved Kuro waddled over, climbed onto his chest, and all twelve kilograms of him made breathing a bit difficult.
"Kuro… you really need to lose weight…"
Akira sighed and rubbed Kuro's head, which earned him a couple of rough tongue licks in return.
He had said this many times, but despite knowing obesity was bad for cats, he couldn't bear to limit their food. To him, hunger was a truly painful experience.
Picking the controller back up, he realized he wasn't that interested in gaming today.
After thinking it over, he figured it was probably because something new had caught his attention, making games seem less appealing.
Men—always chasing novelty.
Chuckling at himself, he picked up his phone and sent an email.
"Did I cause trouble?"
Soon, a reply came back in an unmistakably irritated tone.
"So Mr. Akira does have some self-awareness."
Akira smiled. He wasn't offended by Utaha's tone.
In fact, he liked seeing her true reactions.
What interested him about Utaha was her ability to have all three: looks, brains, and backbone.
If she turned into just another smiling flower vase, it would be boring.
"Even if I don't think I was wrong, I still caused you trouble. Is there any way I can make it up to you?"
"No, none."
"This offer stands indefinitely. If anything comes to mind, just let me know."
Seeing no further reply, Akira yawned, grabbed a nearby blanket, and curled up with Kuro under the covers.
Spending so much time outside today… exhausting. Time to rest.
…
Elsewhere, Utaha had just arrived home. She lay on her bed with one arm over her eyes, silent for a long time, her thoughts still in turmoil.
Her mind replayed the entire scene at the café—
The inner struggle while sitting across from Akira.
The relief after rejecting temptation.
The intense guilt when she coincidentally ran into Tomoya.
The brief reprieve after Akira helped her out.
The panic when her feelings were exposed.
The shock from his ruthless mockery.
And finally, that empty, devastated look on Tomoya's face when they parted.
Such an emotional rollercoaster had drained her.
But what truly disturbed her—
Was the faint sense of satisfaction she felt deep inside when she saw Tomoya like that.
She wasn't the only one in the circle who liked Tomoya. Eriri, the illustrator, also had feelings for him.
And with her sensitive heart, Utaha had also noticed that something was changing between Tomoya and Kato Megumi.
Encouraged by Tomoya's passion and expectations, she had poured her heart and talent into this game.
But behind the scenes of their rom-com antics, after showing her feelings time and again and never getting a clear answer, how could she not feel hurt and disappointed?
So today—
Even though she was angry at Akira for saying those things.
Even though she felt pain seeing Tomoya like that.
Even though she didn't want to admit it.
She had to admit—
It felt good.
"If it wasn't true, then why did everything line up with those deductions so perfectly? Was it really just a coincidence?"
From deep within her heart, the darkness whispered again.
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