A Regressor's Guide to the Frozen Apocalypse - Chapter 24: Close Friend

I was possessed by the game (forced).

Known as the country’s top onmyoji, Yuuma Kisaragi, who lived to the age of 99, awoke to find himself in an unfamiliar forest. A voice echoed in his mind, revealing that he had been reincarnated into another world at the age of 20.“Good morning, Master. Skip the greetings and please defeat the goblin in front of you.”The voice belonged to a skill acquired during reincarnation called “AI,” designed to assist Yuuma in his new life. When the skill, AI, took over the form of a golden-haired fox yokai, the familiar shape of Yuuma’s shikigami, he decided to embark on a new life alongside AI-chan.The onmyoji and AI-chan’s second life began, tackling various challenges and formidable enemies with the strongest spells and shikigami.

Chu Qianze turned the pen in his hand in a circle and smashed it against the drum next to him, the loud drum sound resounding around him.

Facing the two people who looked over at him together, he pulled out a polite smile, which was very dazzling under the neon light.

“I’m sorry, you are ruining my eyes.”

Later:

Feeling the gazes of the people around him, the flashing lights that flared from time to time, and a few gasps, Chu Qianze’s mouth twitched: “Is this a new way to surprise people?”

***

Chu Qianze, who had just arrived in the world and was getting acquainted with his surroundings, was inexplicably pulled by a man and was held in his arms.

“I already have someone I like; it’s him!”

Chu Qianze looked at the person blankly, but saw that the other person turned his eyes away, his breath a little disordered.

“..?”

- Description from Novelupdates

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.