Renard's eyes snapped open. He sat up abruptly in the massive bed and started to look around the dimly lit room.
For a moment, he just stared at the unfamiliar ceiling.
"...No"
He raised a hand and delivered a sharp slap to his own face.
Smack.
"...No, no, no. This is bullshit!"
It didn't feel like a dream. The sting on his cheek was too sharp. He slapped himself again, harder this time.
Smack.
"Ow... damn it." He rubbed his throbbing cheek, his heart sinking. "Fuck… It's real. This is actually real."
His eyes swept the room again. The mahogany furniture, the stone walls, the oppressive opulence of it all, it felt like he'd been dropped onto the set of a triple-A historical drama. Renard clutched his hair in frustration.
"I really did get isekai'd."
Just then, a blue screen appeared in front of him. Soft, glowing letters formed.
[Hey, you. You're finally awake.]
Renard stared at it. Then he slowly pointed at the screen. "...Did you just make a Skyrim reference?"
The screen flickered. For a brief second, the text glitched. Then it changed.
[Correction: Cultural reference detected.]
[Humor module functioning properly.]
[Villain Correction System Activated]
Renard's eye twitched.
"...No."
[Rewrite your fate. Claim power. Build your harem. Provide Entertainment.]
Renard stared at the prompt for three long seconds. Then, he lunged out of bed, screaming at the top of his lungs.
"HELL NAH!"
He kicked the blankets off the bed and jumped to his feet. "I DON'T WANT THIS!" He pointed angrily at the floating screen. "Send me back! Do you hear me?! SEND ME BACK!"
His breathing grew heavy as anger bubbled out of him. "I finally won! After everything, I finally won the lottery! My life was actually going to mean something!" He began pacing the room like a caged animal. "I was going to pay the debts. I was going to help my mom. I was going to fix everything!"
He whirled back toward the screen. "And now what? I'm stuck in some knock-off fantasy world as a damn villain?"
The blue screen glitched violently. The systemic text dissolved, replaced by jagged, reddish-edged words.
[Listen, you ungrateful brat.]
Renard blinked, his rant dying in his throat. "What?"
[You died.]
[In your world, you were nothing but a fat, pathetic loser.]
[You should be kneeling in gratitude that I bothered to give you a second breath.]
Renard's jaw dropped. "Did... did the System just insult me?"
The screen glowed with an intimidating, blinding intensity.
[I am not the 'system'.]
[I am the God of Entertainment.]
Renard froze, his voice dropping to a confused whisper. "The... the what?"
[The one who brought you here.]
Renard clenched his fists, "New life, my ass!" He pointed angrily at the screen again. "I DON'T WANT THIS 'NEW LIFE'!" he barked. "Send me back to my world! Yeah, maybe I was a loser! So what? I had the money to change that! I finally had the means to turn it all around!"
His voice cracked. "And then I get hit by a damn truck!"
The screen flickered, and the God replied calmly.
[Do you truly believe money would have changed you?]
Renard frowned. "What do you mean?"
[Let me tell you what would have happened.]
[You would have wasted that money buying useless materialistic garbage.]
[A high-end PC. The latest phone. Expensive distractions to fill the void where a personality should be.]
[Not a single cent would have gone toward actually 'improving' the man in question.]
Renard opened his mouth to argue.
Then stopped.
"…."
The fire in his eyes died out. He looked away, his shoulders slumping because the bastard was completely right. A new PC. The latest console. Those were exactly the first things he had added to his mental shopping list.
Renard slowly sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Tch." He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the floor. "...Fine. Maybe you're not entirely wrong about me."
He looked up at the floating screen, his expression weary. "...Is there really no way back?"
The answer came instantly.
[No.]
He let out a long, shaky breath.
The God continued.
[Why are you so desperate to return to that boring world anyway?]
[This world offers everything your previous one denied you.]
[Power. Wealth. Adventure. With my guidance, you will live more in a month than you did twenty years back then.]
Renard looked down at the floor quietly. "You're probably right," he muttered. Then, his voice grew soft but barely audible. "But... my mom. She was struggling."
His voice was quieter now. "I wanted to help her."
He swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. "I didn't have life insurance. My death just... it just added more weight to her shoulders. I never even told her about the ticket. If I'm gone, that prize money just sits there, unclaimed. She'll never see a dime of it."
He looked back at the screen, a desperate glimmer in his eyes. "Can you tell me it worked out? That the money somehow got to her?"
The room fell silent.
Then the answer came.
[No. It did not.]
Renard lowered his head. "I see."
Then God spoke again.
[However.]
Renard looked up again.
[If you follow the system and provide me with the entertainment I desire...]
[I will find a way to deliver that ticket to your mother.]
Renard froze. "Wait... seriously? You can do that?"
The blue screen pulsed softly.
[I swear it.]
[A god does not break his word.]
Renard stared at the screen for a long time, his chest heaving. Finally, he let out a whisper that was part relief and part resolve.
"Thank you."
God responded immediately.
[Do not thank me yet.]
[Earn it.]
The screen flickered, returning to its standard interface.
[Provide me the entertainment I seek.]
[And I will grant whatever your heart desires.]
Renard took a deep, steadying breath. He wiped his face and muttered to himself, "Guess I don't really have a choice, do I?"
The interface reset to its original startup screen.
[Villain Correction System Reinitialized.]
[Welcome, Host.]
Renard sighed, a small, cynical smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He lay back on the plush pillows and stared up at the ceiling.
"Alright then," he whispered. "Let the show begin."