Chapter 7 – Who Doesn’t Want the Easy Life?

Yin Ze jolted awake again—not from smoke-induced stabbing like last time, but because he'd been ambushed mid-sneak by a sunglasses-wearing, bald-headed menace. The guy had hit him with a gravity-warping mega punch that sent him flying into a wall and promptly classified as *dead*.

His enemies? Mutant beasts that could speak, gravity-controlling monsters, time-traveling aces with tight suits, scientists wielding nature itself, muscle-bound warriors in mecha armor... even AIs with actual avatars.

And him? All he had were outdated throwing knives, a dagger meant for ritual seppuku, and a comically oversized katana that could only be drawn for six seconds—clearly meant for window shopping.

Was there no justice left in the world?

Eyes half-open, Yin Ze stared at the ceiling and slowly reconnected with reality. Clutching his aching stomach, he shuffled to the bathroom to do what needed doing.

His ideal morning routine started with squatting on the toilet, cigarette in mouth, magazine in hand.

He tossed some cheap seasoning packets into the cold rice leftover from the night before and made a steaming bowl of improvised ochazuke. A few spoonfuls of Lao Gan Ma chili sauce added just the right amount of flavor. Simple, but delicious.

Flipping on a late-night variety show he'd recorded, he watched with great interest. The stunts were borderline inappropriate, especially the parts where unsuspecting young girls shrieked in surprise during pranks. He shook his head and chuckled—part entertained, part regretful.

Morning dramas were wholesome and heartwarming. Afternoon PSAs had you tearing up. Evening documentaries were quiet and philosophical, celebrating the spirit of craftsmanship. But once midnight hit? All hell broke loose.

The same channel that told the touching story of a train conductor working rain or shine for forty years would, hours later, feature a twin-tailed high school idol catching bugs in a bikini.

This country really was something else…

It was hard enough surviving in this city as a regular salaryman chasing scraps. Working in entertainment—especially a service-focused gig like voice acting—wasn't much easier.

Yin Ze wasn't exactly deep into the scene, but close enough.

People here lived under enormous pressure. The faster life moved, the more extreme their need to blow off steam.

He made a silent vow to himself: In this cold, heartless city, he'd hold onto his values. Keep his dignity. Stay true to who he was.

"Yin Ze, don't get corrupted," he reminded himself. "You used to be a brave guy with guts—lust, courage, loyalty! You were a man of the world, not some sleazeball falling for these shallow, cheap thrills that exploit the weak!"

With righteous determination, he firmly shut off the late-night variety show… and opened up a harem anime instead.

*2D girls are pure, elegant, kind. They exist only to heal weary souls. They never hurt anyone. They're perfect.*

"Besides, I'm a voice actor. Watching anime is basically homework, right?"

Yin Ze sprawled across the floor, basking in the soft pastel world of postmodern flat-color aesthetics. Not the realism of Western styles, but the lineage of Japanese ukiyo-e artistry, evolved into thin-lined, translucent-skinned anime heroines.

His brows furrowed as if pondering the origins of the cosmos. Freeze-frame him, and you'd get a screenshot titled *studying the craft.jpg*.

At first glance, nothing unusual. Look longer, and you'd start to wonder. As a working voice actor, a tiny thought began to form.

*Wouldn't it be nice to play one of these harem protagonists?*

After finishing *Moving to Tokyo Alone and My Landlord's a 17-Year-Old Girl?!*, he got up to stretch.

Back when he was broke, he didn't have the time or energy to think about these things. But now, with a little cash and a bit of free time, he finally felt… bored.

Takizawa Satoru never had many close friends. With a broken family and distant relatives, he rarely visited anyone, even during holidays.

And Yin Ze? He'd only recently escaped the life of sleeping under bridges. His list of acquaintances was laughably short. What was he gonna do—go hang out at school with the bald-headed department head and the school nurse over a round of loser-geek poker?

So, he idled online—talked trash, watched meme videos, browsed social media, and even checked out ArtStation to gawk at the latest tentacle monster masterpieces.

*Seriously, how are these kids so good? Are they the real isekai protagonists?*

It'd been a while since he picked up his stylus. Time to knock off the rust. Step one: he renamed Photoshop to "Steam." If he could fool himself, he could fool the world.

He plugged in his tablet, opened a blank canvas—

*Damn it, all my brushes are gone!*

Mourning the past, he picked a hard round and started sketching nonsense.

With "reference corridors" now a thing, he didn't have to hunt down materials anymore. He could just conjure them with a thought. On one screen: images. Another: drama. A third: music. A fourth: stand-up comedy. A fifth: horror stories.

It was glorious. But also... exhausting.

After two hours of doodling, he stared at the screen, lines covering his face like a comic panel.

*Too rusty. I need real rehab. At this rate, I'll downgrade from swordmaster to small-town yoga instructor.*

Just as he was despairing about the vast difference between humans and other "primates," his phone buzzed.

It wasn't his manager this time—it was Satoshi Matsuoka, someone he hadn't heard from in a while.

"Yo, Matsuoka. What's up?"

"You busy today?" Matsuoka asked. He sounded like he was in a mall—the background was noisy.

"Nah, pretty free."

"Some of us from the same cohort are getting together at Iwasawa's place to make dumplings. Wanna come?"

"Sounds great! Send me the address."

"Cool, I'll grab the groceries now." Matsuoka chuckled and hung up.

Yin Ze tossed aside his stylus and closed his sketch without saving.

He washed the dishes, changed, double-checked his wallet, keys, and appliances. As he was slipping on his Adidas sneakers by the door, a thought crossed his mind:

*Should I invite someone else, too?*

He scrolled through his tiny contact list and dialed a freshly added number.

After a dozen seconds of ringing, a slightly awkward voice answered:

"Hello…?"

"It's me."

"I know, I know. What's up?" said Ayane Sakura.

"Got time? Wanna hang out?"

"..."

"...Hello? You there?" Yin Ze waited a few beats, then asked again.

"I'm here! So—hang out, like… just friends hanging out, right?!" Her voice jumped.

"Uh, yeah? You busy today?"

"Nope! Finished all my homework ages ago!"

"Alright, I'll text you the location. Meet you there."

"Okay!"

*Beep. Beep. Beep.*

Yin Ze scratched his head as he looked at his phone.

*Wow, she got that excited over a hangout invite? Must've been stuck home studying.*

*Guess now she's got a legitimate excuse to go out.*