Absolute Loser Becomes The Pleasure King Using Satan System

Chapter 19: 19.A connection to begin our story- 4

The hostel corridor was quiet by the time Reina reached her door, most of the other freshers still lingering somewhere downstairs, laughing over dinner, exchanging numbers, doing all the things new students were supposed to do on their first night.

She didn’t mind missing it.

She slid her key into the lock and stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Two beds sat on either side of the room.

Her side was a mess of comfort, manga stacked in uneven towers against the wall, a worn blanket half-hanging off the mattress, her backpack already tossed somewhere near the desk.

The other bed was untouched.

Bare mattress. Folded sheets still sitting on top, exactly as the hostel staff had left them at the start of the semester.

Reina dropped her bag onto her desk and practically threw herself onto her own bed, bouncing once against the mattress, her glasses sliding slightly down her nose.

’...wait. Did that actually happen? Did I really...?’

’I have a friend.’

’Okay but like. An actual friend. Not a "we-said-hi-once" friend. A real one.’

She grabbed her pillow and hugged it tightly against herself, rolling onto her side, unable to keep the smile off her face.

A manga panel flickered behind her eyes.

The heroine, face-down on her bed, kicking her legs happily in the air, tiny sparkling flowers blooming around her, little chibi hearts popping out of nowhere for absolutely no reason except that the moment demanded it.

’...okay that’s a little much, even for me.’

Another panel followed anyway, because her brain clearly wasn’t done.

Two silhouettes standing beneath a tree, hands almost touching, dramatic wind machine somehow active despite them being on a college bench, single word bubble hovering above,

"Friends."

Followed immediately by a second panel, much smaller, tucked in the corner like an afterthought : the same heroine, chibi-sized, screaming into a pillow.

Reina buried her flushed face into her actual, real pillow, muffling an embarrassed, giddy sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a dying animal.

’Stop. Stop it. Stop making everything a panel!’

She failed to stop it. Not even a little.

After a moment she rolled back over, staring at the ceiling, replaying the whole afternoon on a loop.

The bench, his voice, the way he’d listened to her go on and on without once checking the time like she was some kind of obligation.

Her ears got a res flush upon remembering some particular details she tried to forget.

’He said he’s never read manga.’

The thought hit her again, and this time it came with an entirely different, much more urgent kind of panic.

’Wait. Wait wait wait!’

’That means I get to be the one who introduces him.’

’Me!’

’The person who introduces someone to their first manga basically becomes a permanent character in their brain forever, everyone knows this, it’s basically a law!’

She sat up so fast her glasses nearly launched off her face.

Spun toward her bookshelf, crammed edge to edge with volumes, spines gone soft from being read one too many times.

This has to be perfect. This is basically a first impression except it’s a first impression on his entire soul.

Her fingers walked along the spines, pulling one out, frowning at it like it had personally wronged her, sliding it back.

’Nope. Too sad. He’ll think I’m secretly depressed.’

Another.

’Too long. He’ll take one look at volume eleven and give up on life.’

A third got pulled halfway out before she shoved it back with real offense, as though the book itself had suggested the idea.

’Absolutely not, he is not ready for that plot twist, I’m not ready for that plot twist, nobody has ever been ready!’

Her hand finally stopped.

She pulled the volume free, holding it gently, almost reverently, between both palms, the cover so familiar she could probably draw it from memory at this point.

’...this one.’

’Yeah. Yeah, this is the one.’

A small, satisfied, slightly smug smile crept across her face, the kind reserved for people who had just made an extremely important decision and knew it.

’He has no idea what’s about to happen to him..hehe..’

She hugged the book against her chest, the same way she’d hugged the pillow minutes earlier, and flopped back onto the mattress with a happy little sigh.

Outside her window, the last of the evening light melted into deep blue.

But inside that small, cluttered room, on a bed that had sat empty far longer than the one across from it.

Reina Voss couldn’t remember the last time her chest had felt this warm, or her thoughts had been this loud, or her face had hurt this much from smiling at absolutely nothing.

Mylo walked back toward his apartment, hands shoved into his pockets.

His mind still turning over everything the strange system had thrown at him.

The hidden quest notification hovered stubbornly at the edge of his vision, refusing to be ignored.

Leh lake. Midnight. Should I even go?

It could be nothing. It could be another one of Vespara’s twisted little games, dragging me into something I’m not ready for.

Or it could actually make me stronger.

Just then, another bloody screen flickered into view, the same message patiently repeating itself, as if the system itself was growing impatient with his hesitation.

Right. Fine. I get it. I heard you the first time.

He exhaled, pushing the thought aside for now.

There would be time to decide later.

Just then, something caught his eye.

A small convenience store tucked along the street, its sign glowing faintly in the growing dusk.

He slowed his steps, glancing through the window, then stepped inside almost on impulse.

A minute later he walked back out, a single bar of chocolate tucked into his jacket pocket.

By the time he reached his apartment building, the sky had deepened into a soft orange-grey, streetlights flickering weakly to life one by one.

An old man stood near the entrance, broom in hand, sweeping stray leaves off the steps with slow, unhurried strokes.

Despite his age, his shoulders were still broad, carrying the faint outline of a man who had once been strong.

Deep wrinkles lined a weathered face, framed by a full head of white hair, and his eyes held the kind of calm that only came from a lifetime of not being in a hurry.

"Ah, young man! You must be the new tenant on the terrace floor."

"Yes, that’s me," Mylo said, offering a small smile. "I just moved in today. I’m Mylo. Mylo Zane."

"Everyone around here just calls me Uncle Joe," the old man said, setting his broom aside and dusting off his hands.

"I look after the building. Little repairs, keeping things tidy, making sure the tenants don’t burn the place down."

He said it with a small chuckle, clearly a joke he’d made more than once.

"Nice to meet you, Uncle Joe."

"Terrace floor’s a good spot," Joe said, nodding toward the top of the building. "Quiet up there. Lots of space. You’ll like it, I think."

"Yeah, it’s... perfect, actually," Mylo said.

They fell into easy conversation after that,

Joe asking about his classes, his hometown, whether he’d figured out where to get decent food nearby. His voice was slow and unhurried, the kind of voice that made you want to slow down just listening to it.

"Don’t mind me asking too many questions," Joe said with a small laugh. "Not much else to do around here except talk to the tenants. Keeps things interesting."

"I don’t mind," Mylo said, and he meant it.

As their conversation wound down, Mylo reached into his pocket and pulled out the chocolate bar.

"Oh, actually, could you give this to your granddaughter? If that’s alright."

Joe blinked, clearly caught off guard.

"My granddaughter? How do you-"

"The building manager mentioned it," Mylo said quickly, keeping his tone casual. "Said there’s an older man who watches the door here, and that his granddaughter visits sometimes."

I made the same mistake with miss Chloe too. I need to be careful with the way I interact with other people.

What if someone ends up thinking that I am some creepy dude?

Joe studied him for a moment before letting out a warm chuckle, waving a hand as if brushing the question aside.

"Ha, that’s kind of him to mention." He took the chocolate gently, turning it over once in his hand, something soft settling into his expression.

"Her parents... my son and his wife, they passed a few years back," Joe said, his voice quieter now, though still steady.

"So it’s just been me and her since. We manage well enough, but we’re not exactly well-off. Can’t always give her the little things a kid her age should be able to enjoy."

He looked down at the chocolate bar, turning it over once more in his weathered hands.

"But this? This’ll make her whole week. She loves chocolate more than she loves me, I think.’’

He laughed at his own joke.

"Thank you for this, Mylo. That’s very thoughtful of you."

"It’s nothing," Mylo said, offering a small smile. ’’How old is she? I hope I’m not spoiling her too much.’’

’’Haha... There’s no need to worry. She just entered highschool. Believe me when I say that she is the smartest among girls her age. She even got full scholarship from her school.

’’Still, she does likes chocolate a lot. Hmm well it’s not like old sticks like me can enjoy this, I’ll let her spoil herself a little hahaha..’’

He didn’t shy away from boosting his talented granddaughter while also mentioning about spoiling her. Mylo also laughed with him.

"Well, I should get going. It’s been long day."

"Of course, of course. Get some rest, young man. First days are always tiring."

Mylo gave a small nod and made his way inside, taking the elevator.

He’s a kind man.

The thought settled over him as he pressed for terrace, quiet and simple.

I don’t remember much about him from before.

He was just... always there. Always sweeping those same steps. Always smiling like that, even after everything he’s been through.

Raising her alone, with barely enough to get by, and he still laughs like that.

But then another memory surfaced, one he wished hadn’t.

He’s going to die. In two years. His heart is going to give out.

He didn’t even know that fact meant anything back then. It was just a small, forgotten detail buried somewhere among a thousand bigger tragedies.

What happens to her then? To his granddaughter, when he’s gone?

He didn’t have an answer. He didn’t have anything.

There are things that I can’t change no matter what I do.

But there is nothing that I am going to get by worrying about it.

So maybe it’s better to focus on things that I can change and work on them.

’’Two years...huh.’’

He said it to no one, just the machanical humm of lift going up.

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