---
Well, I had a good run.
Got married, raised a couple of decent kids, and even managed to send them off to high school.
Not exactly a legendary life, but a quiet one.
And, truth be told, I'm satisfied with that.
I never wanted fame.
Never dreamed of climbing mountains or changing the world.
I just wanted peace—and I had that, at least at the end.
So... what now?
I don't know where I am.
There's no floor beneath me, no sky above.
Just emptiness stretching in every direction.
A black so absolute that it makes the idea of shadows feel redundant.
It's not cold.
Not warm either.
Just... void.
At first, I thought I might still be dreaming.
Maybe I was in a coma.
Or trapped in some strange afterlife queue.
But then I realized something disturbing.
I couldn't feel my body.
Couldn't blink. Couldn't breathe.
There was no up, no down.
Just me—consciousness without shape, drifting in a space where even time feels irrelevant.
Seconds could've passed.
Or centuries.
How do you measure time when there's nothing to compare it against?
No heartbeat.
No breath.
No sound.
Just my thoughts, bouncing endlessly against the inside of my skull—or whatever was left of it.
This must be some kind of purgatory.
A cosmic waiting room with no magazines or muzak.
Hell, maybe this is hell.
And if it is, Satan has seriously underperformed.
Where are the fire and brimstone? The screams? The ironic punishments?
This is just… boring.
Give me a few months and I'll probably start naming the darkness.
Then again, maybe this is what I deserve.
Not for any sins committed—but for daring to expect anything after death.
Maybe we all end up here eventually.
Alone. Adrift. Forgotten.
Can I tell you something?
A voice.
Real. Sharp. Like someone whispered right into my thoughts.
No.
Please, no. Not now.
Wait—
That voice… it felt familiar.
A memory?
A hallucination?
Before I could answer, it was gone.
Silence returned, wrapping around me like a wet blanket.
But something had changed.
I could feel something.
Pressure.
A tingle—like pins and needles after being numb for too long.
Light.
Faint at first, barely more than a shimmer.
Then growing. Expanding.
Blinding.
Oh shit—
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|•So… turns out I got reincarnated or something. Go figure. •|
When I opened my eyes—or whatever counted as eyes now—I was greeted by a world bursting with color.
Vivid, clean lines. Unreal lighting.
The kind of palette you only see in anime.
And that's when it hit me.
Everything looked like one of those shows I used to watch in passing.
The exaggerated expressions. The sparkly atmosphere. The impossible proportions.
I was in a goddamn anime.
Not just any anime, either.
My body felt weird. Too light. Too springy. Too... unfamiliar.
And inside me, there was this strange pressure—like something was coiled and waiting, deep in my chest.
Not pain. Not illness.
Just wrong.
It felt like someone had stuffed a battery inside me and forgot to seal the casing.
Whatever it was, I'd deal with it later.
At the moment, I noticed I was standing in a clothing store, right in front of a fitting room.
Bright lights. Mirrors. Racks full of suspiciously stylish outfits.
What the hell am I doing here?
Then, a voice cut through the air.
—"Issei-kun, how do I look?"
I turned instinctively toward the source, even though I knew that wasn't my name.
And standing there was a girl.
Dark hair, radiant smile, sweet voice.
Wearing an outfit that left very little to the imagination.
Without thinking, my mouth moved.
—"You look really cute, Yuuma-chan!"
I said it.
With enthusiasm.
Like I meant it.
Wait. What?
I didn't say that.
That wasn't me.
I don't even know who this—
Oh.
Oh no.
This is High School DxD.
---
Of all the worlds I could've ended up in…
I had to land inside the body of the most infamous pervert in anime history?
Seriously?
The dude who once tried to make a harem out of demonic royalty?
Fantastic.
Still, I can't lie—this might actually work in my favor.
If I play this right, I might just survive.
But right now, survival isn't guaranteed.
Because these two—"Yuuma" and me—are walking toward the park.
And I know exactly what's about to happen.
The worst part?
I have no control over this body.
It moves, speaks, reacts on its own.
I'm just a passenger.
A screaming voice trapped inside the head of the world's most enthusiastic boob-enthusiast.
If I could, I'd be sprinting toward the most crowded place I could find.
Yelling for help. Waving my arms. Something.
Instead, I'm smiling like an idiot while doom strolls beside me in heels.
Suddenly, "Yuuma" stops.
She turns to face me.
The light in her eyes dims—replaced by something cold and sinister.
—"Issei-kun, can I ask you something?"
My brow lifts, confused.
—"Of course, Yuuma-chan."
Oh great.
We're seconds away from being stabbed and this meat puppet is still flirting.
—"Would you die for me?"
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