The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was boobs.
Not heaven. Not a field of flowers. Not a floating god with a clipboard asking if I wanted to be reborn as a slime with a six-pack and a harem.
Nope.
Just boobs.
Specifically, her boobs.
Aihara Yuna.
One of the heroines of Sweet Love Spiral: The Cuckold Chronicles.
A girl so sweet she made honey call her "senpai." She's like if sugar and sunshine had a baby and then that baby cured world hunger.
And now her boobs were approximately three inches from my face.
I blinked. She blinked back.
"Oh! You're awake, Kazuki-kun!" she said, cheeks turning pink. "You fainted during training again…"
Wait.
Waitwaitwait.
Kazuki-kun?
No.
No.
NO.
I whipped my head around like a caffeinated meerkat.
Wooden floors. Kendo gear in the corner. School uniform on a hook. Mirror reflecting my face—
Same spiky hair.
Same devil-may-care jawline.
Same expression that screams, "I just seduced your girlfriend and made her pay for dinner."
"Oh, hell no," I muttered. "This can't be happening."
It happened.
I'd been reincarnated.
Not as the cool underdog hero.
Not as the loyal best friend with hidden depth and great biceps.
But as Sakurai Kazuki—a man so morally bankrupt he needs a CPA to audit his soul.
I'm the NTR bastard.
The walking plot device whose only purpose is to ruin relationships, smirk smugly, and say douchebag lines like, "She wasn't yours to begin with."
In the manga, I'm the guy readers throw their phones at.
I am the reason comment sections have therapy sessions.
"God hates me," I whispered.
"No, he doesn't!" Yuna said brightly, completely misinterpreting my spiral into despair as post-fainting brain fog.
"You're strong and cool and… and your temperature feels fine now!"
She placed a dainty hand on my forehead.
I died again.
Right there.
Heart stopped.
Cause of death: Too Much Innocence, Not Enough Self-Control.
Somewhere deep inside me, I could feel Original Kazuki stirring. Like a demon sealed in a horny teenager.
I had to fight it.
I had to be better.
I had to rise above the source material.
I had to—
"Your thighs look great in that skirt," I said out loud.
…
…
Goddammit.
Yuna squeaked like a kettle. "K-Kazuki-kun!"
She lightly slapped my arm, giggling in that "stop it, you're so bad!" kind of way that only fuels the harem fires.
And then the door slid open.
And in walked Kurosawa Itsuki.
The protagonist.
The nice guy.
The sweet, loyal, soft-spoken cinnamon roll with glasses and zero spine.
He blinked.
I blinked.
Yuna's boobs did not blink, because that would be weird.
This was it.
The beginning of the end.
In the manga, this is where it all starts—the point where Itsuki notices Yuna's eyes linger on Kazuki just a little too long. Where his faith starts cracking. Where the darkness enters.
I had to stop it.
I had to break the cycle.
I had to—
"Hey, Itsuki. Great timing. I was just checking Yuna's temperature—with my face."
Yuna turned red.
Itsuki blinked again. This time with hurt puppy eyes.
Somewhere in my brain, a warning siren went off.
Damage has begun. Please proceed to the nearest emotional fallout shelter.
Okay. Okay. No panic. We can still fix this.
I stood up. Smiled. Slapped Itsuki on the back like we were frat bros at a barbecue.
"Bro, your girlfriend's rack saved my life."
WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.
Itsuki's face went full Windows error screen. Yuna made a noise I can only describe as a dying hamster. I internally screamed into a pillow made of shame.
New plan: Never speak again.
Just mime.
Mimes can't NTR anyone.
I turned to Itsuki with my best fake-Kazuki grin. "Kidding! You know me! Classic scumbag humor!"
He did not laugh.
Instead, he adjusted his glasses and looked at Yuna.
"Are you okay?"
And that's when it happened.
Yuna smiled at him—
But her eyes flicked to me.
For half a second.
Just a tiny second.
But I saw it.
So did Itsuki.
Oh no.
Ohhhh no no no no—
"Kazuki-kun helped me when I tripped earlier," she said, smiling like a Disney princess in a hostage situation. "He caught me before I hit the ground…"
"You fell into me," I clarified. "I was unconscious. Technically, I broke your fall with my abs."
Itsuki's jaw tightened.
Note to self: Stop talking. Seriously.
Then Yuna did the unthinkable.
She sat down next to me. Too close. Legs touching. Leaning just slightly in my direction.
Unconscious move? Probably.
But to Itsuki?
It was a knife made of "emotional trauma" dipped in "high school romance tropes."
"Anyway!" I said, standing up like a guy trying to flee the scene of the crime. "I'll just, uh, go… drink water. In the hallway. Alone. With no one's girlfriend. Definitely not seducing anyone out there."
And then I ran.
Literally.
Sprinted out the room like my ass was on fire and God was holding the extinguisher hostage.
I leaned against the wall outside, chest heaving.
Okay.
Okay, okay, okay.
So far today, I:
Woke up as an NTR villain
Complimented a girl's thighs out loud
Said her boobs saved my life
And emotionally wounded the protagonist by breathing
Perfect record.
New plan: fake my death.
I'll jump out a window, change my name to Hiroshi, and join a Buddhist temple.
No girlfriends there. Just enlightenment and uncomfortable robes.
But as I was making my escape plan, the door creaked open again.
And there she was.
Yuna.
Looking concerned. Like she thought I might collapse again.
"Kazuki-kun… are you sure you're okay? You're acting kind of strange today."
Oh no. She noticed.
She's starting to think I'm different.
She's getting interested.
Abort mission.
ABORT MISSION.
I slapped on a dumb smirk. "Just, uh… low blood sugar. From your thighs."
WHY. CAN'T. I. STOP.
She giggled again, blushing.
And just like that…
I felt it.
The gears of fate turning.
The story was beginning to shift.
And I was still Kazuki.
Still the villain.
Still one wrong smirk away from stealing someone's girl.
…
This is fine.
Everything is on fire.
But it's fine.