After Listening to What Inside My Mind the Female Leads Want to Flung Into My Harem - Chapter 22 – No Matter Who I Choose, It’s a Dead End

Roy died in an unfortunate accident.

He thought that was the end.

But unfortunately for him, God didn't have a place for him in heaven, and the devil didn't want him in hell either.

So he ended up in the body of a famous count's third child, who his entire family neglected.

The world was exactly the same as the one in the novel he had read the day before he died.

The person whose body he had come to possess had the same name as him but wasn't mentioned in the novel because he had died two years before the forces of chaos invaded the county.

That meant, while Roy was alive in this new body, two years later, he would die, ripped apart & eaten by a monster.

He needed strength to survive the future events, but unlike the protagonist of Stallion novels, he didn't have a golden finger!

[You've gained 1 EXP]

It was only after unintentionally stepping on a bee Roy realized that he possessed a golden finger!

And this golden finger might be his key to becoming the strongest!

One day, I was given the mysterious power of Hwanmong.

Lin Xiao was an orphan who strived to get stronger while living with his sickly younger brother in an unnamed small village.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.