MR GHOST ( 2 )

"So, You're Gonna Help Me, Right? Player?"

Ghost Carlo grinned at me with an infuriating amount of confidence, as if my answer was already set in stone.

This wasn't a request—it was straight-up coercion.

I felt like one of those unlucky heroes summoned to a fantasy world to defeat the Demon King, given zero choice in the matter.

Which meant… I only had one option.

"DAGA KOTOWARU! [But, I refuse!]"

…was what I wanted to say.

But let's be real—given my situation, I had no choice but to agree.

"Fine, I'll help you."

"Huh? That easy?" Ghost Carlo blinked at me, looking genuinely surprised. "You sure you don't wanna, I don't know, think it over first? Maybe throw a tantrum? Yell something like, 'Why the hell should I do this?!' I mean, you're not even mad?"

What the hell is wrong with this ghost?

The second I agreed, he started worrying about me.

"Of course I'm mad," I shot back. "I got thrown into some random world that looks straight out of an anime! And yeah, okay, I don't hate it, but that doesn't mean I'm happy about it either. Don't get the wrong idea, got it?"

Crap. That sounded way too much like a tsundere. Gross.

"Uwah, what the hell was that? Did you seriously just go full tsundere on me, Player? That was disgusting."

(This goddamn Ultimate NEET…!)

"Listen, of course I'm pissed off," I continued, ignoring his insult. "Unlike all those protagonists in isekai novels, I'm not some orphan with no attachments to my old life. I have a family. Responsibilities. A job. Dreams. Then suddenly, I wake up in this obese body? If I just shrugged and accepted that like it was nothing, I wouldn't be human—I'd be a damn saint."

The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I got. But what could I do?

One of the defining traits of humanity is our ability to think—our logic, our adaptability.

"So tell me—who am I supposed to be mad at?" I asked, crossing my arms. "You? A ghost I can't even punch? Or some god I don't even know how to find? I don't have a choice but to accept this."

"Who said you can't touch me? Wanna try?"

Suddenly, Ghost Carlo struck an awkwardly cutesy pose, forming a heart with his hands.

"If I could touch you, I still wouldn't, you disgusting Ultimate NEET," I deadpanned.

This ghost was going to drive me insane.

I needed one of those Man In Black memory erasers to wipe the last five seconds from my brain.

"Fair point," he shrugged. Then his expression turned curious. "Oh yeah, Player—I've been meaning to ask. What do you mean by 'anime world'? If there's a world like that, I wanna visit it too."

I was absolutely stunned.

Of all the things he could have asked, that was his question?

But after thinking about it, it actually made sense. While I was shocked by how everyone here looked like anime characters, Ghost Carlo seemed genuinely confused—like he saw nothing unusual about it.

It was an interesting shift in perspective.

It made me realize that this world had a fundamentally different understanding of reality compared to mine.

"The only thing I can really tell you is that humans in my world look different from those in yours," I explained. "Oh, and one more thing—can you stop calling me Player? From now on, just call me Carlo since I'll be the one living in your body. And as for you… hmm… I'll call you Mr. Ghost."

(I initially wanted to explain that people in my world look more realistic, but given how this world works, Mr. Ghost would probably just think everyone around him already looks 'realistic' enough.)

"Hmm… Even though I can read your thoughts, I still don't quite get it," he admitted.

"Can you stop reading my mind already, Mr. Ghost? You do realize that in the 21st century, privacy is a pretty big deal, right?"

"No can do," he replied flatly. "Unless you want to go around talking to me out loud in public? If you don't mind being labeled a lunatic, then sure, go ahead."

He had a point.

Since he could read my thoughts, we were basically communicating through telepathy, which made our conversation completely invisible to others. No one would think I was crazy for talking to myself—except for the one-sided mind-reading, which was still annoying as hell.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Big bro, wake up! Mom made breakfast!"

A voice called from outside the room—Carla, my little sister.

"Carla…"

Ghost Carlo murmured her name, his face darkening with guilt and regret.

"Yeah, I'm up! You go ahead, I'll be right there," I called back.

Tap, tap, tap.

I heard her footsteps fade as she made her way to the dining room.

"Ahem, I think we've talked enough for now," Mr. Ghost suddenly said, his voice shifting back to its usual tone. "Let's go eat, Carlo."

I could tell he was trying to end the conversation quickly.

"Wait a second, Mr. Ghost," I said, stopping him just as he was about to phase through the wall toward the kitchen. "There's an important question you still haven't answered."

He sighed. "What now? If it's about my issues with my family, then sorry, but I can't tell you yet. You don't meet the requirements ♡♡♡♡♡. At the very least, you need to collect three♥ before you unlock that route."

…

Since when did this turn into a dating sim where I had to win over the heart of a fat ghost NEET?!

A game like that would never sell.

"It's not about that," I quickly clarified, keeping my expression serious.

"Hoo? Then what is it?" Mr. Ghost straightened up, mirroring my seriousness.

"I've been meaning to ask this ever since I arrived in this world," I said, locking eyes with him. "So I need you to answer me truthfully and seriously."

"Go ahead," he replied, standing tall as if bracing himself to face a storm.

"The poster," I began, pointing at the wall. "The one of the well-endowed woman with twintails—half blue, half black—hanging in this room… Is that an anime character? Or is that a real person?!"

"…."

"The poster of the well-endowed woman with twintails—"

"AHH, I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!!! Are you an idiot?!"

"The poster of the well-endowed wom—"

"STOP! ENOUGH!!!"

 ---

Ha ha ha, to think that in this world, such a beautiful woman actually exists—not just confined to animated screens or printed pages. From now on, you are my oshi, nameless idol.

"You're seriously weird. I thought you were going to ask something important, but it turns out it's just about the idol poster in my room."

(Something considered trash by some might be a treasure in the eyes of others. You wouldn't understand this, Mr. Ghost.)

A man who lived, died, and then lived again as a ghost in an anime-like world probably wouldn't understand the feelings of us humans, trapped in a dimension where we can only observe from the other side of the screen.

"Carlo, don't just sit there. Here, have some vegetables too," Mom said, handing me a plate filled with broccoli and carrots.

"Alright, Mom." I took the plate and scooped a few pieces of broccoli and carrots onto my plate, which was already filled with an English breakfast—beans, a sunny-side-up egg, and meat.

(Yuck. I've only been here for a day, and I already miss rice. Am I really supposed to start every morning with beans instead of a warm bowl of rice that not only fills the stomach but also nourishes the soul?)

"Oi, Carlo. Don't be picky with your food. Mom put a lot of effort into making this," Mr. Ghost said while looking at Mom with the same expression he had when he saw Carla.

(You don't need to make that face, Mr. Ghost. I'm here to properly resolve your issues, after all. One way or another, I need to return to my original world, too.)

"Heh, fair enough." He smirked slightly, as if mocking himself for his past—or rather, his future—mistakes.

"Why are you so quiet, Carlo? Usually, you'd have finished eating and asked for seconds by now. Are you sick?" Mom asked with a worried look.

"He probably stayed up late reading his comics again, Mom," my little sister Carla said while focusing on her food.

"Haha, no, Mom. It's not that. I'm actually trying to go on a diet and cut down on my food portions." I quickly answered, trying to ease Mom's worries.

If only they knew I had been chatting with their actual son this whole time—who is now a floating ghost lingering in the dining room ceiling.

Without realizing it, the dining room suddenly fell into complete silence.

"D-Diet?" Mom asked, her face filled with concern.

"Diet!?" My sweet little sister, Carla, looked at me as if she had just heard that the sun would start rising from the west.

(Why do they look so shocked, Mr. Ghost? Explain this immediately!)

"Well, it's only natural for them to be surprised. After all, I usually eat three to four servings for breakfast," Mr. Ghost explained.

(You pig! ) That was the only response I could give in this absurd situation.

"Are you sure about this, son? Do you really want to go on a diet?" Mom asked again, still in disbelief.

"Haha, yeah, Mom. I mean, look at me—I've gained a lot of weight. I need to start dieting and exercising more."

"E-EXERCISE!?" This time, Carla looked at me with the same shock Nixon must have had upon hearing about the Watergate scandal.

(Just how much of a mess was Mr. Ghost's life for his family to be this surprised at the idea of him trying to be healthy?)

"Ahem. By the way, Mom, is Dad still not home yet?" I quickly threw out a distraction—one I was sure would work 100%. Like bait cast into a pond, I knew that the fish known as "Mom" would take it immediately.

And sure enough, the already silent dining room suddenly dropped in temperature. I wasn't joking—the air literally felt colder, not in a refreshing way, but in a chilling, bone-piercing kind of way.

"From now on, you no longer have someone you can call 'Dad,'" Mom said.

Father is dead!

—Mom (a midwife philosopher)

Success! My plan to shift the conversation had worked! And in doing so, I had awakened the Nietzschean spirit within Mom.

With everything going according to plan, I swiftly finished my meal and prepared to make my escape, leaving my dear little sister to take command of this sinking ship.

"Well, I'm done eating, so I'm going to take a bath now. Oh, and Mom, you seem really stressed out. Maybe Carla can listen to your troubles? Since you're both women, I'm sure it'll be easier to talk things out with her. Alright then, I'm off."

Without looking back, I bolted out of the room.

"Wait, big bro!" Carla's desperate cry echoed behind me.

I'm sorry, dear sister. But I believe in you! Fight on! As your big brother, there's not much I can do besides cheering you on as you face your first life crisis in this world.

I successfully escaped from the gates of hell that I had willingly opened, sacrificing my sweet little sister in the process. But I have no regrets. Sometimes, in life, you have to let go of something to gain something else.

As I made my way to the bathroom—a place where I could finally talk to Mr. Ghost in peace and discuss our plans for the future—I felt a sense of relief.

WAIT A MINUTE!

Doesn't this mean I'll be alone with a ghostly old man while being completely naked, with him watching me!? This is insane! ABANDON SHIP! ABANDON SHIP!!!

I immediately turned on my heels, only to stop dead in my tracks.

If I wanted to go back to my room, I would have to pass through the Bermuda Triangle—the kitchen and dining room—the very place I had barely escaped by sacrificing my little sister.

Would I have to return there again?

But I had nothing left to sacrifice. Going back would only make Carla's sacrifice meaningless!

"Oi, relax. I'm not gonna peek or anything. Even though that's technically my own body, I have absolutely no interest in watching a naked guy," Mr. Ghost said in an attempt to reassure me.

(Wait a second, Mr. Ghost. Doesn't that mean you can freely peek on women taking a bath whenever you want? My god, Mr. Ghost, you're a total pervert.)

I smiled knowingly, the kind of smile shared between men who understand each other's tastes.

(I'm not gonna judge! But don't forget to drop a few hints about what you see, alright?)

"I AM NOT peeping on women, you idiot! Do you really think I'd waste this second chance at life just to sneak a peek? What if God found out and got angry enough to take away this opportunity!?" Mr. Ghost shot back, shutting down the idea of using the Brotherhood Network Services to peek on girls in the bath without any risk of leaving evidence.

"Well, that sounds great. If that happens, I can go back to my original world without having to do anything."

"…You really are a piece of shit."

Finally reaching the bathroom, I resumed my conversation with Mr. Ghost about our future plans.

(So back when we first met, Mr. Ghost, what was it you said again? About your big plan moving forward?) I asked.

"I said I wanted to live a life without regrets," Mr. Ghost replied confidently.

(A life without regrets!?)

I was at a loss for words. Did he just say he wanted to live without regrets!?

GAME OVER.

Goodbye, my world. I'm never going back. Owari da.