Black company. 89th hour of the week.
My vision tunneled, the Excel sheet blurred, and the last thing I felt was my forehead hitting the keyboard like a meteor.
Then, darkness.
Then, cold stone and the smell of instant ramen.
I tried to lift my head.
Couldn't.
Because I no longer had a neck.
Or arms.
Or legs.
I had… squish.
I was a slime.
A very small, very round, very blueberry-colored slime the size of a large grapefruit.
Before I could finish screaming internally, a shadow fell over me.
A girl was crouched three meters away.
Silver hair spilling like liquid moonlight across black marble.
Elaborate gothic dress that probably cost more than my entire bloodline.
Curved obsidian horns.
Folded bat-dragon wings trembling with emotion.
Crimson eyes glowing in the dark.
She was staring at the phone in her hands like it had murdered her family.
And then she started crying.
Not delicate anime princess tears.
Full-on, snot-bubble, ugly-crying, pounding-the-floor-with-her-fist, demonic reverb wailing.
"Uuuueeee… why is the pity rate a lie… I just wanted Summer Berserker Artoria… just one copy… please…"
She collapsed face-first into a body pillow with a suspiciously familiar white-haired saberface on it and sobbed harder.
I, a freshly reincarnated grape-flavored jelly, sat there in stunned silence.
A golden system window popped up in front of me like a polite serial killer.
[Welcome to Elyndria, Otherworlder!]
[Race: Blueberry Slime (Unique Variant)]
[Registered Owner: Velzavelle von Nachtkrone — Demon King of the Thirteenth Throne]
[Irremovable Title: Beloved Pet of the Final Boss]
[Hidden Effect: Owner receives +9999% to all stats while you are within 10 meters]
[Current Owner Location: Right behind you, crying over gacha]
I slowly turned (by wobbling my entire body 180 degrees).
The Demon King was now on all fours, crawling toward me with the expression of a soldier who'd just seen water after forty days in the desert.
"P…Poyo…?" she whispered, voice shaking like a magnitude 9 earthquake.
Apparently that was my name now.
I opened my nonexistent mouth to protest.
"Poyo."
Her eyes widened.
Her wings shot open so fast they knocked over three shelves of limited-edition figures.
And then she lunged.
I was scooped up, squished against the softest, warmest cheek in existence, and used as the world's most luxurious handkerchief.
"Poyo-chan… Poyo-chan is real… you're really real… I thought the cash shop scammed me again…"
She rubbed her face all over me like I was a limited SSR dakimakura.
I was being loved to death by the final boss on day one.
Fantastic.
She suddenly held me at arm's length, eyes sparkling with manic, terrifying determination.
"Poyo-chan. Listen carefully. We are going to clear the new event together. I will carry you. I will buy every pack. We will get Summer Berserker and her swimsuit Merlin and we will be happy forever."
Then she paused, sniffed once, and her voice dropped into demonic reverb that cracked the ceiling.
"First… food."
She carried me through corridors of black obsidian plastered with glow-in-the-dark stars and waifu posters.
We passed a twelve-foot minotaur general in full plate armor.
"My lord!" he roared. "The heroes have breached the 44th layer! Should we—"
"Later," Velzavelle said without breaking stride. "Poyo-chan is hungry."
The minotaur looked at me.
I looked at him.
"Poyo," I offered politely.
The twelve-foot minotaur dropped his battleaxe, fell to his knees, and began weeping openly.
"Truly… the throne is eternal…"
I was starting to see a pattern.
We reached what could only be described as the Demon King's bedroom.
98-inch monitors ×6.
California king bed buried in plushies.
Mini-fridge labeled "Emergency Ramen."
One corner: a mountain of unopened boxes labeled "FIGURE EMERGENCY FUND."
She set me on a velvet cushion on her desk, right beside a mechanical keyboard with custom keycaps of her favorite characters.
Then she opened a drawer and took out a tiny porcelain plate.
On it: one perfect heart-shaped pancake, drizzled with blueberry syrup.
She poked it toward me with the solemnity of a knight presenting a holy relic.
"I made it myself. Three months ago. I've been keeping it fresh with time-stop magic because I knew… I knew someday you would come."
That was either the sweetest or most unhinged thing anyone had ever done for me in two lifetimes.
I extended a slime pseudopod and took a bite.
Absolute flavor nuclear bomb.
Best pancake I'd ever had.
Better than my grandmother's.
Better than sex.
Better than not dying from karoshi.
I made the happiest sound a slime can make.
"Poyo poyo~ ♪"
Velzavelle screamed in pure joy and spun around the room so fast her wings demolished another shelf.
And in that moment, as the final boss of the world danced with a pancake plate like it was the holy grail, I understood my mission in this new life.
I was going to take care of this magnificent disaster dragon.
Even if it meant becoming the strongest entity in the universe by doing literally nothing except being round and producing headpats.
Somewhere far below, the heroes were climbing the tower, holy swords drawn, blessings active.
They had no idea what was waiting for them.
None of us did.
But that's next week's raid party.
For now…
"Poyo," I said again, settling onto my cushion throne.
Velzavelle scooped me up, hugged me to her chest, and started crying all over again.
"Welcome home, Poyo-chan. Let's stay like this forever."
Yeah.
I could work with this.
Chapter 1 End.