"Oh gosh! He's not dead—he's moving!"
"Lucky bastard. I thought all our effort had gone to waste."
Riku heard unfamiliar, youthful voices as he struggled to open his eyes. His eyelids felt heavy. The language was foreign, and though he couldn't understand the words, the tone was unmistakable intended as if he was being watched. Surrounded by strangers who definitely weren't the police, he decided to feign unconsciousness.
"Why isn't he waking up?"
One of the boys, clearly panicking, suddenly kicked him in the stomach and struck his chest hard.
Riku jolted upright in pain, only to realise he was tightly bound.
As his vision slowly returned, he found himself surrounded by dark-skinned boys in school uniforms, all inside a dimly lit, abandoned warehouse. The most jarring realisation? None of them looked Japanese, and none were speaking Japanese. Worse yet, they were teenagers—he was being beaten by high schoolers.
"Wait... what the hell? Am I being bullied by kids? And why are they all foreigners?" he thought, before a cold wave of realisation hit him.
He looked down. He was wearing the same type of uniform as them. His limbs were thinner, his frame younger, and his skin tone—though not dark—was clearly not as pale as his own used to be. He looked... different.
Though it might sound insensitive, after a life spent among fair-skinned people, the sudden change in complexion felt impossible to ignore.
Then, a nearby boy—who looked more paler than him but also shackled and equally bruised—pleaded, "You'll kill him! Please, stop!"
Riku's mind reeled. 'What the fuck?! I got transmigrated?!'
Suddenly, a searing pain hit his skull as a rush of unfamiliar memories poured in. He clutched his head and groaned. He went through all of them in flashes, like watching a movie in an abandoned theatre, alone in front of a big wide screen.
A second boy, likely one of the ringleaders, stepped in to stop the first assailant. "Hey! That's enough. Killing him won't help. Don't ruin the agreed plan."
"You saw him fake being dead," the first boy snapped. "Scums like that needs to be beaten to death, to get them in straight line."
But the other shook his head. "You already hit his head once. Look at him now—he's barely conscious. I'm calling the boss. Don't touch him again until we get paid." With that, he stormed off.
The first boy spat on the ground and followed, muttering under his breath, "Coward. Siding with a damn brat."
As the two disappeared into the next room, the other chained boy sighed in relief as he tried to reach out to him .
"Rohit, are you okay?"
Riku flinched. Rohit? That was the name of this body's original owner. The words were in Hindi, but now he can understand them, as he inherited the memories. an out-of-body haze, he began to piece together the truth.
This new body belonged to Rohit Singhania—a young member of one of Delhi's wealthiest and most influential families.
The Singhanias were a business dynasty, with deep roots in Uttar Pradesh's sugar and dairy mills and political ties across six Indian states. Their influence extends beyond borders, as they are heavily involved in agricultural exports, all coordinated through their extended family networks.
In Delhi, his father and uncle were part of the branch family who were incharge of managing the city-based operations.
Additionally, his father runs a growing tech business focused on gaming, giving them another sphere of influence in the capital region. Through this, they also control certain supply lines in the city, just like their other family members.
But within this powerful family, Rohit had always been the black sheep. Mediocre at school, socially isolated, and constantly compared unfavorably, he carried an extra burden—he was adopted. His real parents had been close friends of his adoptive father but died tragically, leaving him behind.
His adoptive family took him in because they lacked a male heir—but they never truly accepted him. Their kindness was tinged with silent resentment.
That inferiority complex crept into every part of his life.
His current mess all came down to one mistake: being emotionally stupid.
The boy in shackles, who was pleading for his mercy, was his friend and classmate Akhil, the main root of this issue. As per his old past memory, this guy confessed to some type of scandalous relation with a female teacher, who not only was hot but also married. Some school bullies had caught them in a compromising act on camera and had been blackmailing them ever since.
Rohit was a boy who was taught to be an idealist but in reality was raised to be a loyal puppet. Being naive as he was, he wanted to help his case through talks and so tried to get them to delete the video, offering possible favors in return. But the bullies' price were outrageous—they demanded he lure his crush, Sweta, the school's beauty queen, to his family's resort for a picnic. Then, he himself would be barred from entering. They promised they'd handle the rest.
It was a twisted demand that forced Rohit to betray someone he genuinely liked, and risked his family's property turning into a crime scene—especially if those thugs went too far.
It was basically a trap meant to humiliate him before they could get what they wanted, and Rohit played directly into it. The thought of Shweta being violated snapped Rohit's usual polite side. For the first time, he tried to stand up for himself, only to get his ass kicked by people who saw him as nothing more than a runt under their boots.
To make things worse, they demanded money. Unless he paid, they warned, they'd keep beating him black and blue for hours before finally letting him go.
That was when he died.
Now Riku was in his place.
But there was more—something darker.
Just before Rohit's eighteenth birthday few days back, he'd stumbled on shocking documents—just a glance—but enough to know that the game company, supposedly owned by his adoptive father, was originally started by his real parents. The business had been seized after their deaths and fraudulently transferred.
He could now guess the real reason they died, even without proof.
That betrayal shattered the last illusions Rohit had about his place in the family.
The last emotion he absorbed from Rohit wasn't pain, but anger—bitterness so deeply rooted it had begun to warp his worldview. Women, family, loyalty... everything had collapsed into a twisted sense of revenge.
In the past, he had resolved to strip his adoptive father, Raj Shinghania, of everything he held dear before leaving him to rot on the streets like a beggar. However, back then, he had no clear plan—he just wanted to wait for the right moment. Sadly, he couldn't hold on long enough to see it through.
Now, as Riku scanned those memories, he couldn't help but smirk at the irony of his fate. In his last life, he had died in pursuit of women and money, discarding power when he had the chance—and that had been his greatest mistake. But this time would be different. Guided by his skills, expertise, and unique position in his current life, he would enjoy life to the fullest.
He licked his lips with an almost manic satisfaction as the faces of those from his past flickered in his mind. The beauties were all well-maintained figures, all quite the likes of his taste. He screamed inwardly.
'Holy shit… A 46-year-old MILF, a 27-year-old sister, a 21-year-old younger one, and twin cousins my age? And this idiot was adopted? Thank you, God. I swear I'm not wasting this second chance.'
Unlike his former self, who was tied down by emotions and helplessness, this time he felt no obligation—especially toward the women connected to those men who had made his life miserable.
They were no longer off-limits. To him, they were simply part of his second life's pursuit: fulfilling his past desire to win over beauties and enjoy all the pleasures life could provide.
He was particularly not an evil guy who would go beyond his way to force others or take revenge for petty matters, but he was indeed twisted when it came to sex and survival. To him, morals, society and customs didn't matter as long as the girl was interested.
He liked the feeling of conquering, of dominating, of making them crave for his dick. That sense of adrenaline thrilled his life, gave him meaning, and made him addicted, and in this life, he wished to carry on the same legacy.
To his predecessor's final wish—to destroy Raj Shinghania, the man who duped him—well, since it could not be avoided, he would take on the quest. It was evident that even if he played docile, nothing would change. In the end, his father was like a butcher waiting only for the sheep to fatten before he could kill it.
He had his own fair share of stories where he had dealt with the likes of them many times, and the best way to deal with this guy was the same as the guy had wished—where he would be having his family for more than he had thought of.
And to the rest, who had bullied him for being considered adopted, for being considered weak—well, they didn't know what was coming for them.
More than revenge, it was disgust that fueled him now. The idea of living like a submissive pawn again sickened him. In his past life, he may have been a crook—but at least he had lived like a king.
And now, when fate had given him a second chance with potential power, he would reign like a god.
However he overlooked something very important—the ingrained instincts,
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Author's Note:
I understand that there is very little information about the MC's character at this point, so I would ask readers not to jump to conclusions. I have designed the story to reveal his past in bits as it progresses, so the immersion can continue at a consistent pace alongside the post-reincarnation scenes.