How To Survive As A Villain

A New Home

Ren surveyed the diminutive living space, its walls seemingly pressing in on him like curious spectators.

A modest sofa set, its fabric worn from use, occupied the central stage. Yet, Ren noted with bemused curiosity that, with a single command, it seemed to possess a secret duality, transforming effortlessly into a makeshift bed or perhaps a snug chair, adapting to the whims of its inhabitants.

Not of this caliber yet, Ren had seen something similar during his time on Earth.

But what truly caught Ren off guard, disrupting the predictable rhythm of his expectations, was the absence of a Robot.

In a world where automatons were as commonplace as the air one breathed, this barren emptiness resonated with an eerie silence.

Each story Ren had read or listened to the whispered of robotic companions, tirelessly attending to the needs of their masters, providing comfort and ease to the protagonists.

Those, sometimes cute and sometimes, dead serious robots, help the protagonists with cooking and cleaning and dominating the food industries all over the world.

Yet, here in this humble abode, an open kitchen counter stood sentinel at the left edge of the living space, its pristine surface untouched, as if untouched by anyone's hands since its installation.

Ren took it as a reminder not to consider himself a protagonist. He does not carry any similarities with them.

The two books he read on transmigration went like this- a girl got reincarnated as a cannon fodder fiancé and won everyone's heart, including the male lead's, with her excellent cooking.

The second one went the same way. The only exception was the girl from the apocalypse who married the major general.

From this, one can conclude that to become a main character, one might have to have a fiancé who is rich beyond measure or a Major General. The second requirement is a robotic helper, and the third is off-the-chart luck.

Ren has none of the above. Maybe he should go and marry sister Xander.

There was no shoe rack at the doorstep, so Ren left his shoes in the living room beside the sofa.

His measured footsteps carried him further, leading him to his newfound sanctuary – the bedroom.

A mattress, modest in its dimensions but inviting in its simplicity, rested upon the floor like a silent invitation.

Surrounding it from the right corner, beside the coffee-coloured curtain hanging from the back wall hiding a rectangular glass, a solitary utility table stood, its surface adorned with the presence of various objects that spoke volumes of the life lived within these walls.

A few boxes of never-before-seen snacks and the nutritional solution lay beside the mattress on the naked floor.

The entire room without carpet made Ren, who was used to walking on the warm surface, uncomfortable.

A chill lingered beneath his soles as he walked towards the table.

There were no windows, or maybe Ren needed to change the settings of the rectangular 'wall' behind the curtain from 'Concrete' to 'Open view mode'?

There was nothing else inside the room, not even a tiny chair. Perhaps because there was no space for anything else in the first place, the owner must have decided not to make the room too crowded.

Amongst the row of items, Ren's gaze lingered on the gleam of a sharp knife and a collection of equally formidable tools, their edges honed and ready for whatever purpose they intended to.