You’re Telling Me This Is a Slice-of-Life?

This draw… not great, but not terrible?

Yuuki turned his head. Sakurajima Mai clearly realized her outfit was too out of place. She had torn down a section of the curtain to wrap around herself, the sheer white fabric barely covering her figure. The translucent veil made her silhouette even more enticing—her ample chest and long, stocking-clad legs faintly visible beneath the thin material. If anything, it made her even more alluring.

Her delicate face was tense, her brows slightly furrowed—not in a frail or helpless way, but with a focused determination. She was doing her best to adapt to the situation.

Physically, Sakurajima Mai was nothing special, but she was calm, mature, and kind-hearted. At the very least, she wouldn’t drag him down or suddenly stab him in the back.

More importantly, she had left a deep impression on Yuuki in his past life—one of those characters he couldn’t bring himself to click past when browsing Pi**. She was, without a doubt, one of the girls he paid the most attention to after reincarnating.

(TL: Chinese doujinshi site…)

“People live for Sakurajima Mai. But why is my first meeting with her in a death game? There’s definitely something wrong with this.”

Yuuki turned away, just in time to meet Li Dan’s apologetic gaze. At least from the latter’s perspective, Yuuki had drawn a bad lot.

The strongest black chef ended up paired with a veteran player, while the gyaru got a white college student. Thankfully, Yuuki looked pretty sturdy—at least more reliable than that frail history major.

“I’ll head to the garden with Jerry, Hasaka and Oliver will explore the castle, and Yuuki, you and Mai go downstairs,” Li Dan instructed, leaving the most dangerous area to himself. He then gestured toward a cabinet on the side of the hall. “Whether you know how to use them or not, grab something first.”

Inside the glass display case was an array of weapons—swords, axes, morning stars, spears. But modern people rarely trained in old-fashioned melee combat.

“Ma f***er, I need a Glock, not some antique.” The black guy muttered but still honestly picked up a broad heavy sword, giving it a test swing. Even flailing wildly was better than being unarmed.

Watching the others rush to grab weapons, Yuuki remained unhurried. Instead, he casually asked, “Brother Li, are these starter weapons from the game?”

“Of course not. These are just ordinary weapons. Items or weapons in the Reincarnation Game are rare, like my revolver here—it has supernatural effects, but also a price.” Li Dan patted the massive revolver at his waist before suddenly stopping mid-explanation. He then asked, just as casually, “By the way, Yuuki, you’ve practiced swordsmanship before, haven’t you? I felt calluses when we shook hands earlier.”

It was a normal, straightforward question, yet Yuuki instinctively grew wary. He answered with a forced casualness, “Yeah, I was in the kendo club at school.”

“That so? Why didn’t you mention it during introductions?”

“Uh… it’s just an after-school club activity. Hardly counts as a special skill, right?”

Li Dan nodded, not pressing further. In this game, any player with even a bit of sense wouldn’t trust others completely—just like how the boy, the gyaru, and the bunny girl all deliberately avoided using their full names.

“Alright, go pick something that suits you. We’re officially starting the game.”

Yuuki didn’t hesitate. Playing a role required a balance of truth and lies, so he put on an intrigued expression and asked, “By the way, Brother Li, can you form teams in the Reincarnation Game?”

“What we’re doing isn’t really ‘teaming up.’ Cross-instance teams are complicated. Stop asking and go pick your weapon.”

Yuuki nodded, keeping that information in mind. He walked to the display case and didn’t even need to think before reaching for a katana with a brass hilt and a dark red ray-skin sheath. He unsheathed it slightly—its blade reflected the blood-red moonlight, and the intricate pattern along its edge made him nod in satisfaction.

Damascus steel. Clay-tempered hamon. It couldn’t match modern heat-treated steel, but it wasn’t just a fragile ornamental piece either.

[The balance is solid. More than enough for cutting through flesh.] He swung it a few times before sheathing it again—just in time to meet the gaze of Hayasaka Ai.

The gyaru, now holding a battle axe, was watching him with narrowed eyes. When their eyes met, she grinned and waved, looking amused.

A professional really is different—If I didn’t know better, I might’ve actually been fooled.

Yuuki didn’t call her out. He simply caught the walkie-talkie Li Dan tossed over, inspecting it without needing to ask—this was definitely something brought over from the real world, just like his scalpel.

“There’s no interference on the signal. Keep these walkies on you, and contact each other if anything happens. Don’t play hero,” Li Dan reminded them, tucking his own device into his belt before taking a deep breath.

“Let’s go. Game start!”

—

Moonlight filtered through the windows, staining the heavy carpets and greenish walls a deep crimson. The glow was so rich it almost felt like they were wading through a sea of blood.

Yuuki descended the staircase, his own footsteps the only sound in the silence. His head turned from side to side, scanning every detail carefully.

The castle was deathly still. Outside, the garden was dyed red, the towering walls blocking the horizon. Only the distant, ghostly wailing echoed through the air, carrying a strangely hungry undertone.

He had already explored the upper floors—more rooms, more windows, nothing much different. The monotonous scenery made it easy to grow visually fatigued.

At the front of the castle was a grand entrance hall, complete with a massive crystal chandelier and luxurious carpet—a space clearly meant for welcoming guests.

“You… aren’t scared?”

A crisp female voice broke the silence, adding an eerie touch to the atmosphere.

Yuuki kept walking, amused.

Finally couldn’t hold it in, huh? But lasting this long is already impressive for a normal person.

“Of course I’m scared. You don’t see me trembling? I’m walking this slow because my legs are shaking.”

Sakurajima Mai pursed her lips, studying him from behind. She didn’t have a great impression of this guy—rude, absent-minded—but her bad luck in the draw couldn’t be helped.

The “Don’t Go Alone” hint didn’t seem like a joke. After going through the tutorial, she wasn’t about to test it with her life.

So, she gritted her teeth and followed Yuuki as they explored the castle for nearly three hours. They checked every floor, examined every room—and not only did nothing “beastly” happen, Yuuki didn’t even glance at her.

Instead, he always seemed deep in thought.

His movements were steady, his breathing calm. If he was just faking composure, he was keeping it up for an awfully long time.

“Hey… are you sure you’re not a veteran pretending to be new?”

“What makes you think that?” Yuuki kept walking. The carpets here were already a deep crimson.

Hoooooo—

The night wind howled through the open front doors, carrying a chilling draft from where Li Dan’s group had gone.

Sakurajima Mai instinctively pulled her curtain-wrap tighter and moved a little closer to Yuuki.

“Just a feeling. You seem too at ease.”

“I just have good mental resilience. If I were a veteran, why would I get a ‘beginner tutorial’? Come on, let’s go this way.”

To the left, an open doorway led to marble steps and a fountain garden. Without hesitation, Yuuki chose the right path instead.

Sakurajima Mai hesitated for a second, then nodded. He had a point. He even noticed details like that.

“Eh? You’re pretty sharp.”

“You really thought I was spacing out?” Yuuki placed his hand on the door, pausing as he glanced back. “And have you ever heard this saying?”

“What saying?”

“Urging someone to study medicine will get you struck by lightning”

Huh???

Sakurajima Mai was momentarily stunned before realizing he was likely implying that medical students were not idiots. Her lips, previously pressed together, relaxed slightly.

This guy’s got a sense of humor, at least for now.

Behind him stood her favorite female character, yet Yuuki didn’t even glance her way, his attention entirely focused on the dungeon ahead.

This wasn’t some kind of calculated aloofness. It was simply a good habit of his—he had an exceptional sense for prioritization.

Creak—

Yuuki pushed open the wooden door, revealing yet another hall—larger than the one where the team had gathered. A massive chandelier hung overhead, its dim glow barely illuminating the space. Dust-covered crates and furniture were scattered throughout.

Through the narrow windows above, crimson moonlight spilled in, less garish than the blood-red hues outside.

Yuuki had already surveyed the layout from upstairs. The castle’s structure wasn’t complicated. The outermost layer was the wall, enclosing a beautiful garden. The main castle itself was divided into two sections—the front building had five floors, while the rear one was slightly shorter.

Hayasaka Ai’s group had gone through the upper floors. Covering ground from both ends was far more efficient.

Less moonlight reached the lower floors. Did that mean it was safer here? And it had already been three hours without any real challenges. Could it be, as Li Dan had suggested, that common sense was useless in this so-called ‘Reincarnation Game’?

What if it only seemed difficult but was actually easy?

Yuuki was filled with questions as he sat at a square table, pulling out a blank sheet of paper to sketch the layout. Meanwhile, Sakurajima Mai idly rummaged through a nearby crate, only to find glassware—nothing useful. Not even a single piece of clothing. Frustrated, she returned to Yuuki’s side and plopped onto the table.

She crossed her legs, swinging her foot lazily. She seemed much more at ease now. Then, glancing at Yuuki’s map, she noticed he had labeled a section Banquet Hall.

“If we go through that door, we’ll have explored the whole main castle. But we haven’t found much of anything, have we?”

“Mm. Just a bunch of ordinary rooms. Even if we don’t know how strong the ghouls are, any adult could break down these doors easily.” Yuuki responded without looking up.

He had already tested every wooden door. None had any supernatural reinforcements. Even if the ghouls were at the lowest tier—something out of a Resident Evil scene—they’d still be able to smash through with a few hits.

“But we’ve got two veteran players. What if we find a good spot to fortify? By the third day, we’d only need to hold out for another 48 hours.”

“Until now, we haven’t found a single trace of food or water. Li Dan and Thomas might be stronger than normal people, but they’re not immortal. Fighting consumes a lot of stamina.” Yuuki’s pen paused. He smiled faintly.

“Did you notice? There was a wine cabinet in the first hall, but all the bottles were empty.”

Sakurajima Mai stopped swinging her legs. Now that he mentioned it, there were no signs of human survival here. No food, no water—not even spare clothing. It was like a fortress besieged by the undead, isolated under the eerie red moon.

“So Li Dan went to the garden to look for food? Why didn’t he say so?”

Yuuki looked up, his gaze approving. As an ordinary person, she was doing well to make such a logical deduction.

“Because he seems like a good guy, but in a infinite-type game like this, no one is a saint. Every act of kindness is based on self-preservation. Besides, don’t you think it’s a little too convenient that the strongest new player got assigned to his team?”

“What do you mean by ‘infinite-type game’?”

“That’s not important. Just think of it as a brutal survival game where people can turn on each other.”

That explanation made Mai pause. If they were ranking new players by usefulness, then that muscular Black guy—whose arm was thicker than her thigh—was the most valuable one.

Unfounded suspicion? Maybe. But wasn’t she using the same logic to judge Yuuki just now?

She had no right to criticize him.

But wait—something felt off. This guy had been acting dumb just moments ago. Now he was perceptive and calculating. He wasn’t pretending in front of her anymore?

“You know me?” No wonder you were staring at me when you came in.”

Yuuki’s gaze flicked toward her crossed legs—smooth black stockings ending in dainty high heels that dangled lazily, exuding an effortless allure.

Women really do affect my ability to draw my sword—no, my ability to think. Black stockings are like black holes; they can suck away a man’s soul.

Deciding to break the tension, he gave her a strange smile.

“Sakurajima Mai, you are famous. But that’s not why I was looking.”

“Then why?”

“Because you’re dressed too provocatively. Any normal guy would look.”

Yuuki raised his head, his face showing only a slight smile—calm, composed, and irritatingly rational. That made it even worse.

Sakurajima Mai’s face turned red in an instant. Instinctively, she pulled her sheer outer layer tighter.

“You—I thought you were decent! Turns out you’re a pervert!”

Pervert? If I weren’t in full focus mode, using most of my attention to strategize, I’d show you what a pervert looks like.

Glancing at his watch, Yuuki noted that break time was over. As if triggered by an internal alarm, he immediately shifted his focus.

No lingering stares. No trace of the smirk from before.

“Nice guys don’t live long in games like this. So—”

“I won’t play nice.”