The Gacha King and His Shadow

Old Man Yori was a simple man with simple pleasures.

In his first life, he had been an accountant, a quiet river of a man flowing through a landscape of spreadsheets and tax codes.

His second life, the one the System had so abruptly given him, was far better.

It had all the quiet of his previous existence, but with significantly better tea and an utter lack of quarterly reports.

His Domain was a masterpiece of tranquil efficiency.

A small, perfect Japanese teahouse nestled in a perpetually serene bamboo garden in the Udon-nada District.

His subordinates were not snarling Orcs or brutish Ogres, but a dozen tiny, impeccably polite Imps who wore crisp, black uniforms and served as his butlers.

His throne was a heated, memory-foam cushion that offered excellent lumbar support.

He was not a conqueror. He was not a tyrant. He was a retired man enjoying a peaceful, demonic afterlife.