Chapter Text
The light in the convenience store was too bright, casting a harsh glare over the rows of cheap instant ramen and the clock on the wall.
It was 2:43 AM.
Isagi Yoichi rubbed his eyes, his fingers tracing the dark circles underneath them. At twenty-two, his life was an endless, exhausting cycle of university lectures, unpaid corporate internships, and a bank account that consistently hovered in the single digits.
He had spent the last four years doing everything right, playing the model student, bowing to his terrible boss, and sacrificing sleep, all for the vague promise of a stable corporate paycheck that never seemed to arrive.
“If I have to read one more spreadsheet for free, I’m going to lose my mind,” Isagi muttered, grabbing a discounted rice ball and walking toward the automatic sliding doors.
The night air was freezing, biting through his thin jacket. He stepped off the curb, his mind entirely occupied by a mental calculation of his rent budget, completely oblivious to the screech of tires echoing down the deserted intersection.
There was a sudden, blinding flash of high beams, a violent impact that shattered the quiet night, and then… nothing. No pain, no dramatic final thoughts. Just a profound, dark silence, and the distinct, overwhelming feeling of being utterly cheated out of a future.
“awakened. The ritual is complete.”
The voice sounded as if it were traveling through deep water, echoing and muffled.
Isagi gasped, his lungs burning as he violently threw himself upward. Instead of the hard asphalt of a Tokyo street, his hands sank into thick, impossibly soft velvet sheets. He choked, a heavy wave of cold fluid erupting from his throat and splashing onto the floor.
Only, it wasn't blood or bile. It was perfectly clear, glowing blue water that dissolved into mist the moment it hit the ground.
"Young Master Isagi! Praise the heavens, the ritual worked!"
Isagi blinked through blurred vision, his chest heaving. The room around him looked like a museum, tall stone ceilings, heavy silk gauze woven with silver thread, and massive chandeliers that glowed with a magical light. Standing by the bedside was an elderly man dressed in elaborate, historical robes, looking at Isagi as if he had just witnessed a miracle.
"Where…?" Isagi’s voice cut off. It sounded entirely different smoother, deeper, and layered with a strange, melodic resonance that made the air in the room vibrate.
He scrambled out of the massive bed, his legs tangling in the heavy fabrics, and stumbled toward a towering, gilded mirror on the opposite wall.
The reflection staring back at him didn't belong to a tired, overworked college student.
The boy in the mirror possessed a delicate, otherworldly beauty. Strands of deep, midnight-blue hair fell perfectly around a porcelain face. His skin was pearly, with a soft youthful glow, but it was his eyes that made him freeze. They were a brilliant, piercing ocean-blue, swirling with an unnatural depth, as if a literal tide was trapped behind his irises.
As Isagi stared in shock, a sudden flood of foreign memories rushed into his mind, locking into place like pieces of a puzzle.
He wasn't in Tokyo anymore. He was inside the world of ‘The Sunken Throne’, a dark fantasy web novel he had casually skimmed during his late-night study breaks. Even worse, he hadn't reincarnated as the hero. He was Isagi Yoichi, the infamous "Siren Villain" a minor noble blessed with an unprecedented, celestial affinity for water magic, who was destined to lose his mind, betray the empire, and be brutally executed by the story's protagonists.
Isagi gripped the edges of the marble vanity, fingers tightening . The air around him grew heavy, and moisture began to bead rapidly along the glass of the mirror, responding to his rising panic.
“Wait,” Isagi thought, forcing his frantic breathing to slow down. He looked away from his ethereal reflection and focused on the sheer extravagance of the room.
The gold-leaf trim on the furniture. The rare magical gems embedded in the walls.
The absolute fortune sitting right in front of him.
The original Isagi Yoichi was supposed to plot a rebellion, get obsessed with power, and die a horrific death at the hands of the empire's strongest warriors.
But this Isagi? This Isagi had spent his entire past life dreaming of just having enough money to live comfortably without working himself to death. He had a godly magical status, a face that could disarm an army, and a noble treasury currently overflowing with unspent gold.
A slow, brilliant smile spread across Isagi’s new, breathtaking face. The ambient water in the room danced in response, forming tiny, shimmering droplets that hovered in the air like diamonds.
"Forget the plot," Isagi whispered, his ocean-blue eyes lighting up with absolute determination. "Let the heroes save the world. I'm going to take this money, build a fortress of absolute luxury, and live the most comfortable, ridiculously wealthy life this world has ever seen!"