10 nen goshi no HikiNiito o Yamete Gaishutsushitara Jitaku goto Isekai ni Ten'ishiteta - Chapter 8, Part 3: Yuuji, baring himself to multiple people

Su Bai unexpectedly finds himself traversing into a world where urban dramas collide, bound by a mysterious system.Upon arriving at Shuxiang Yaju, he happens upon Song Qian, who is awkwardly stuck in a doorway. Without hesitation, Su Bai comes to her rescue from behind, freeing her.From that moment on, their relationship takes an unexpected turn, and before they know it, the two inadvertently find themselves wandering into a tangled web.Just as they become ensnared in one another’s company, they are caught—by none other than Tong Wenjie from Chunfeng.Blushing furiously, Song Qian stammers, “Wenjie, let me explain…”Wenjie smirks, “Explain what? I want in too!”Pei Yin interjects coyly, “Su Bai, don’t you think you should be fair? If you’re tutoring Teacher Song, I’d like the same treatment…”Nuo Lan teases, “Do these stockings look good with my dress?”Gu Jia sobs, “You’re so capable… I can’t help it!”Jiang Nansun calls out, “Su Bai!”And there are more: Xu Hongdou, Zhuge Dali, Wan Yu, Jiang Lai, Qiao Jingjing…

“Here you go, this is your wage for the week.”After passing over a small pouch, the woman with her legs crossed behind the desk casually made a 'Check' in a notebook and then, without looking up, waved her hand to dismiss him and said:“Remember to file your taxes... Next!”“Wait a minute!”After pouring out the coins from the pouch and looking at the eight large and one small, totaling nine filthy coins in his palm, Leon couldn't help but widen his eyes in shock, almost wanting to pounce on her and fight to the death right there and then.“Damn it! I just repelled the evil god who was trying to erode the world this Tuesday! You bastard even wants to deduct the salary of the savior?”

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.

By the time I realized it, I had reincarnated into another world.

I kept sleeping, and at some point I became a Demon Lord.

Even though I never wished for it.

But for me to not have to work, this world is the best. It must be true that good things happen to good people.

The flavor of Sloth is as sweet as honey. Glory, diligence, virtue, or honor. I have no interest in anything like that.

What’s there to hide? The Lazy king is… none other than me.