My Crush Also Has a Crush on Me! - Chapter 18 - Falling into the Garbage Heap

{NO SMUT}Noa lost his virginity to the Doom God and transmigrated into a game he had played for over ten years.Instead of being the protagonist, he found himself as an extra—a mere background character, fated to die before even making an appearance.To make matters worse, the game’s main character was also an extra who had read the novel about this world.However, Noa's power came after having sex with the Doom God, her blessing granting him 1,000 lives.And armed with 10 years of gaming experience, he was set on changing his future.Though Noa had 1,000 lives to spare, dying over and over had a price…The system was cruel, issuing his existence to every corner of Velrox and slapping a sweet bounty on his head.Suddenly, everyone in the world became interested in his identity, wanting him dead.With enemies on every side, Noa not only intended to screw up the plot, but he also had to survive the impending perils, as the world was set to be destroyed in five years…

At the moment when he was about to be buried alive by the villagers, he blew himself up… no, he saved himself successfully.

He just wants to live and die in this era, but… that woman is too crazy.

…

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- Description from novelbuddy

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.