Young Masters Pov Woke Up As A Villain In A Game One Day Chapter 375

[ … words ]

The scene shifted again.

It was the next day now.

Noah’s phone buzzed incessantly. It was likely his employer sending an official termination notice, which was nothing more than a formality at this point after the stunt he’d pulled last night.

Following his father’s death, the apartment he lived in alone had only grown even darker and filthier. It truly was a prison of his own making.

Noah was sitting there in his usual chair with the gaming controller still clutched in his hands and glazed eyes still fixed on the blank TV screen before him.

Dust coated the corners of the room and trash had piled into haphazard mountains all around the place. Yet the boy’s hollow gaze never left the TV.

The Lord of Stories drifted through the apartment, inspecting every grimy surface. “What were ye saying about never changing the story?”

Samael’s lips tightened. “The past… it doesn’t matter. So what if I left out some details from my previous life? It has no bearing on my current one.”

The god tilted his head, regarding him with the patience of a teacher confronting a stubborn student. “And how do I trust ye never changed any significant detail while recounting yer current life? The point is that a good narrator has to let go of his bias.”

He then turned around, humming curiously as a small tower of light novels stacked on the bedside table caught his interest. He was still murmuring a lecture…

But Samael wasn’t paying attention to the child god anymore.

He was instead looking at his past self — at Noah.

And Noah… was looking back.

…Their gazes were locked. And for one breathless second, a deep shade of haunting violet swirled like a storm that was about to break out in the depths of both their eyes — Noah’s dark black and Samael’s shiny golden.

Then the Lord of Stories turned back around, and just as quickly, both Samael and Noah snapped out of the shared gaze, acting as if nothing had happened.

But the god stopped in his tracks and immediately frowned hard. Because all of a sudden, something just didn’t feel right.

“What?” he asked, cautious.

Samael shrugged, feigning the same confusion and echoing the same question in response, “What?”

…Okay, something was definitely not right.

The Lord of Stories’ intuition was blaring like an emergency siren, screaming at him not to trust the man before him.

…But then what could a mere mortal possibly do against a proper High God?

Right?

So after a few seconds, he exhaled and shook away his unease, though the tension stayed lingering in the air like the static before a storm.

’No… I must be overthinking,’ he told himself. ’Even clever and powerful as he is… he’s still only a man.’

Sure, Samael had some impossibly impressive feats under his belt, but he was still not yet an O-ranker. If he were, the Lord of Stories

That was why he knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that while Samael’s soul was much more immense and powerful than almost everyone on Earth, save for a select few who were nearly his equal, he was still only on the same rank as a Low God.

His Threadweaving was dangerous, yes, but it was neither fast nor lethal enough to rival the Spirit King’s.

He wasn’t a threat to the high heavens.

So if Samael really was up to something shady, the Lord of Stories would simply crush the mortal like an ant he was.

Right then, Samael’s out-of-place cheerful voice sliced through the child deity’s thoughts. “You know what? You’re right. You can’t trust me now that I’ve told a single lie, can you? So here’s what we’ll do. I’ll be honest with you… starting now. And to make this fun, let’s play a game, shall we?”

The Lord of Stories squinted suspiciously. “What? A game?”

“Yes! As you must know, I’m rather famous among my friends as a gameshow host,” Samael responded, tilting his head with that sly, unnerving smile of his. “Everyone fears, and secretly loves, my games. So why don’t you try it too?”

“…And what would this game entail?” the god asked, still not sure where this was going.

“Oh, it’s simple,” Samael said, his smile growing wider as he lifted three fingers. “Three lies. I have told you, or will tell you, only three lies that should be big enough to affect the story, big enough to shift perspective and change what you think you know. If you catch them all, you win. If not… you lose. For the record, I’m counting this lie about my past life. You caught me once. Now you need to catch two more.”

The Lord of Stories’ eyes narrowed further, yet a spark of irritation mixed with curiosity lit up his youthful face. “Ye… serious? Is it wise to play a game like this when I hold the entire record of yer life in my hands?”

“Of course,” Samael said smoothly.

“And why should I?” the god pressed.

“…Huh?”

“Why should I put up with your unreliable narration and play a fool’s game that I know I’ll inevitably win?”

Samael paused to consider something, running a hand over his dark beard before grinning again. “If you do it, I might reconsider not killing you. How’s that sound?”

Silence.

In complete and utter silence, the stunned child god was taken aback by the brazen audacity of this mortal who dared threaten a High God so casually. Then he threw back his head and laughed.

“BWAHAHA!” It was a childish laugh, menacing and dripping with mockery. “Ye! Ye have truly lost yer mind, arrogant fool! But that’s fine! That’s perfectly fine! I will relish it when yer arrogance breaks! I will revel in the hopelessness on yer face! Ye said the climax of this story has yet to come? Tis true! And I shall enjoy it when it does!”

Without wasting a second more, the god then spun around to float away.

Simultaneously, the scenery all around them shifted one last time, changing back into the infinite hall of parchment and ink.

Samael threw a subtle glance at Noah who was still sitting before the switched-off TV, only now there was a faint trace of resolve in his dark eyes.

By the time he returned his attention to the present, Samael was once again standing in the vast hall that existed far outside the reach of existence.

The Lord of Stories hovered near the center with his tiny arms crossed, the uneven crown of quill nibs atop his head catching the dim light.

His expression was a balance of exasperation and delight. “Go on, then, Archduke Samael. Continue your story.”

Samael stretched a little, sat back down cross-legged onto the endless paper plains, and took one more sip from the glass of scotch in his hold that was refusing to empty out.

Then, as requested, he began again.

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[End of Interlude]

[End of Volume 1: Lord of Stories]