The boy stared into the bathroom mirror with eyes dead to the world, a toothbrush hanging loosely from his hand.
He scrutinized his reflection: the shoulder-length pale blue hair, the vibrant golden eyes, the porcelain skin, and the delicate, refined facial features.
"No matter how I look at it, I just look like a girl," he muttered, resigning himself to the image in the glass. "Though... considering the name I woke up with, I guess I shouldn't be surprised."
Fragments of memory were swirling in his mind, but the clearest piece of information was his new identity: Rimuru Tempest.
If memory served, that was the name of a protagonist from an anime he had watched to pass the time in his previous life. Which meant... was this an anime world?
"Ugh, I don't know the specifics yet," he sighed, leaning over the sink. "But I definitely remember that Rimuru is supposed to be... a slime?"
He raised a hand to test the theory.
Instantly, intricate patterns, Magic Circuits, flared to life, glowing beneath his skin.
They traced a path from his heart down the length of his arm, illuminating half his body with a faint, ethereal blue light.
In his palm, moisture from the air condensed rapidly into a sphere of water before freezing solid in a heartbeat.
It was an ability that felt like second nature, born of both instinct and the memories of this body.
Rimuru glanced around at his lavish surroundings, trying to reconcile the sight with the scattered information in his brain.
The massive villa was empty. No servants, no family. The reason was simple, according to these new memories: The Tempest family had been wiped out.
He was the sole survivor.
So, I'm a slime now? And my entire family was murdered? What kind of chaotic start is this?
But frankly, that wasn't the most important issue right now.
Rimuru looked back at his reflection and frowned, deep furrows appearing on his forehead. The most important thing was figuring out if he could somehow get back to his own world.
If he had been a miserable wage slave in his past life, lonely, broke, and grinding away at a dead-end job, he might have accepted an isekai adventure with open arms.
But he wasn't!
His parents were alive and well. He had cars, houses, and a cute, capable step-sister who borderline had a bro-con.
He was the only son of a big xxxx company owner, a massive company… brand whatever ine wanna call it.
His mother was a fashion designer.
He had always considered himself God's favorite. Born into money, not to mention being the only son (so no Game of Thrones style brotherly betrayals), and blessed with good looks, he was winning at life.
The only downside had been the grueling "elite education" his parents and relatives forced on him. They wouldn't let him be a lazy trust-fund baby; they wanted a capable man.
And that was exactly why he was so pissed off!
He had endured twenty-five years of hellish life that started practically in the womb.
Recently he had finally earned his Master's degree. He was ready to go home, inherit the family business, and finally start his life of hedonistic luxury life.
He had survived what one may call in movies or in novels like 'the corporate wars.' 'He had dodged the assassins.' 'He had made it to the final circle of the battle royale,' ready to claim his "Winner Winner Chicken Dinner" and live as a scourge upon society for a years to come.
But no. He survived everything everyone threw at him, only to be taken out by the damn Isekai trend.
"Ugh..." Rimuru choked back a sob, gripping his toothbrush tightly as he stared at the ceiling. "Even if this other world has toothbrushes... that doesn't mean it has Internet or Wi-Fi!"
"And of course, there are superpowers. This is definitely a battle shonen anime!"
Rimuru stared at the frozen water in his hand, feeling a headache coming on.
"I've never even killed a chicken in my life! I'm management material; I know how to order minions around, sure, but fighting?" He groaned, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "And to top it off, the 'family' is gone? I'm the last one left? That's basically a giant neon sign inviting tragedy."
No. This wouldn't do.
Thuck!
Rimuru slammed the toothbrush down onto the marble counter, grinding his teeth in frustration.
The more he thought about it, the angrier he got. There was no way he was accepting this. It was a sunk cost fallacy, if he accepted it now, he'd be losing everything!
He gripped the edge of the sink, his knuckles turning white. "Even if I had to get isekai'd, I'd refuse to do it before I've cashed in on the twenty-five years of suffering I endured to get my degree! I need my return on investment, dammit!"
And as for having a beautiful girl in another world?
Screw that!
With his family's wealth back home, he could walk into the entertainment industry and have his pick of idols and actresses. What did this world have that money couldn't buy on his Earth?
Besides... he couldn't leave them. His strict father, his gentle mother... and that silly little sister who was probably waiting by the door for him to come home.
"Okay. First things first… calm down."
Rimuru lowered his head, his breathing slowing as he forced his mind into a cold, analytical state.
He needed to return. He would do whatever it took to get back. But that led to the obvious problem: How?
The classic trope was that dying in a dream woke you up. But he wasn't stupid enough to bet his life on the hope that this was just a hallucination. If this was a dream, he would wake up eventually.
But if this was real? Then dying just meant... dying.
The odds of transmigrating once were already one in a billion or something. He refused to believe he had the kind of cosmic luck required to die, transmigrate again, and somehow land back in his original body.
So, suicide was out. What about waiting for the plot to finish?
That seemed like the safest bet. But to do that, he needed to sort through the chaotic memories currently cluttering his brain. He needed to know the state of the world and just how developed this civilization was.
He glanced sideways at the amenities on the counter. Towels, toothbrush, a ceramic cup.
"Looks like basic industrial civilization is intact," he muttered. "Or maybe this world's magic system is just advanced enough to replicate modern conveniences."
He turned on the faucet and, without hesitation, dunked his head into the stream of water. It should have been freezing, but he felt nothing.
Is this my ability?
[Notice: Thermal Fluctuation Resistance acquired.]
"?!?"
The mechanical, gender-neutral voice ringing inside his head nearly made him jump out of his skin. But the shock quickly faded into relief.
"Great Sage? Is that you?"
[Answer: Correct.]
"Hah," Rimuru let out a breathy laugh.
Rimuru lifted his head. Water dripped from his bangs, sliding down his cheeks and soaking into his oversized sleepwear. He didn't bother reaching for a towel. instead, he focused his will.
Black mist erupted from his skin, swirling around his body in a vortex. The sleeping gown disintegrated, consumed by the magic, and within seconds, the mist solidified and re-weaved itself.
When the fog cleared, he was dressed in a set of modern, casual clothes constructed entirely from his own magical energy.
"That is incredibly convenient," Rimuru marveled, checking the fabric. "Pity I can't conjure a hairdryer, though."
He picked up a towel and began vigorously rubbing his wet hair, marveling at the novelty of his powers. He turned to leave the bathroom, intending to find a bedroom where he could sit down and properly organize the fragmented memories of 'Rimuru Tempest.'
Because his mind was still stuck in 'modern human mode,' he completely forgot that he didn't actually need a towel. He could have simply manipulated the water element to lift every droplet off his hair instantly.
But he never got the chance to realize that.
CRASH.
The sound of shattering glass tore through the silence.
Rimuru's head snapped toward the window. Thanks to his inhuman dynamic vision, he saw it.
A dark, heavy caliber bullet, spinning at high velocity, wreathed in heat and kinetic energy. It had already punched through the reinforced glass.
There was no time to dodge. There was no time to think.
The bullet slammed squarely into his temple.
SPLAT.
In an instant, the head that had been admiring itself in the mirror moments ago was obliterated. Rimuru's body crumpled to the tiled floor, headless and limp.
As his consciousness faded into the void, a final, bewildered thought echoed in his mind: Why the hell... does this fantasy world have sniper rifles?!
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Hey guys dont forget to add this to your library… and comment.