Title: I Was Isekai'd With My Wife and Now She's the Final Boss of the Fandom Author: H. Behevras Genre: Comedy, Isekai, Music, Married Protagonist, Parody Tags: #FinalBossWife #MetalheadMC #BoybandHell #TrashIsekaiButActuallyGenius
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CHAPTER 15: Slum Sweet Slum
Finding a house in a fantasy world wasn't as magical as Raiko hoped. There were no singing fairies offering cozy cottages, just an old man with three teeth and an aggressive wart selling dirt-cheap properties in a back alley.
> "We can't keep freeloading off Yu-Riella forever," Raiko said, arms crossed like a man with morals and not a single gold coin.
Noona sighed and glanced at her satchel. Their total funds barely covered a single room at a halfway-decent inn, much less a house.
Yu-Riella had offered for them to stay longer, of course. Her son sobbed dramatically, clinging to Noona's leg like she was leaving for war.
> "THE FAIRY AUNTIE IS LEAVING US!" he wailed.
Her husband—whom Raiko mentally referred to as Disaster Mustache—had simply nodded while holding back tears, muttering something about destiny and secret kung-fu footwork.
Still, they couldn't stay.
So, after being laughed out of twelve listings, they ended up at Graverot Alley. The real estate agent looked like a vampire who'd given up halfway through becoming undead.
> "No pets, no noise complaints, no refunds, no exorcisms," he warned while holding up a key that looked more cursed than crafted.
Raiko grinned. "That's metal as hell."
Noona's eye twitched, but she took the key.
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The house looked like a haunted breadbox. Slanted floors, cobwebbed corners, and wall scribbles that read: "IT LIVES IN THE WALLS" in what may or may not have been ketchup.
The front door creaked like a monster yawning. The stairs moaned with every step. The plumbing made hissing noises that Raiko insisted were just "spooky ambiance."
Raiko flopped onto a broken chair with the enthusiasm of a man proud of his poor choices.
Noona silently lit a stick of sandalwood incense and placed garlic in every corner.
That night, the closet door opened on its own. Raiko waved.
> "Evening, ghost. We'll be loud sometimes, just warning you."
Noona threw salt at it and went to bed.
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A week passed.
They survived on basic herb-collection quests, Raiko often returning with bruises and questionable plants.
> "We needed ginseng," Noona said, frowning at a weird mushroom Raiko proudly held up.
> "Close enough."
Sometimes, Raiko tried busking in the alleyway—until a pigeon stole his coin cup. Noona had to physically stop him from trying to duel it.
Their neighbors weren't exactly friendly. There was a cult across the street that prayed to a pothole, and a guy next door who only spoke in riddles and curse words.
Still… it was home. Barely.
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Then came the thugs.
They were walking back from the market—Raiko holding a bag of potatoes, Noona carrying herself like an empress—when five lowlifes stepped into their path.
> "Hey doll, you lost?" the leader asked. "You with this clown?"
Raiko muttered, "Oh no, not again."
Noona smiled. "Says the pile of sentient garbage that somehow learned to talk."
One thug flinched. "Oi boss, I think she cursed me."
> "Back off," Raiko said, setting the potatoes down. "She's taken. And I've got rage issues."
The fight began.
Raiko swung with wide arcs, grunting, blocking, taking hits like a stubborn tank.
Noona? She didn't move much. One thug tripped before reaching her. Another ran head-first into a pole. She remained untouched.
> "I've seen scarecrows with more coordination," she mused as another attacker flailed.
Raiko, now bleeding slightly, suplexed the leader with a roar.
The remaining thugs ran, crying.
> "WHY DOES IT HURT MORE WHEN SHE TALKS?!"
Raiko stood, bruised and panting. "Why do I look like I lost?!"
Noona checked her mirror. "Because you fought. I just spoke facts."
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That night, while Raiko played a light tune (Noona forced him to lower the volume) on his electric guitar (still mysteriously powered), the house creaked.
A cup fell.
The door slowly opened.
A whisper curled through the air.
> "Get... out..."
Raiko paused mid-riff. "This house has S-tier reverb."
Noona clutched a garlic braid. "I hate this place."
Then they heard soft footsteps upstairs. Something tapped once… then twice… then whispered:
> "Nice solo..."
Raiko blinked. "Wait. The ghost's into metal?"
Noona glared. "If you start a band with a poltergeist, I'm leaving."
Raiko raised an eyebrow. "Would it count as an ethereal backup vocalist?"
Noona walked into the kitchen without answering.
Their new life was chaos. And it was only just beginning.
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TO BE CONTINUED
— Author's Note —
I didn't expect to invent haunted housing lore, a pothole cult, and a musically-inclined ghost. But here we are. Rent's due.
– H. Behevras
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© 2025 H. Behevras | First published on Royal Road
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