Don't Play Eroge, Said Some Sage
"Don't play eroge," some sage once said.
Those words hit like a thunderbolt. Some folks looked back on their lives and shed tears. Others found the courage to face the trials ahead. And the message itself? It went something like this.
Love. Get out there, meet a girl, fall in love. Love her, uh, you know... just love!
Yeah. We're all beings capable of love. The kind who go on blind dates, date, get married. That's what I used to think.
...Until my first blind date.
She was a match from a dating app. Dragging my beat-up body from a grueling part-time gig, I took public transport for a solid two hours to reach the spot. Even when she showed up late, I didn't mind. Paying for the meal was a given.
The vibe was good, actually. We traded plenty of jokes. As the date wrapped up, she beamed at me. "You're the nicest, kindest guy I've ever met!"
I bowed in gratitude to that sage in my heart. I can love, too.
Right as we were parting ways...
Her boyfriend showed up.
The guy eyed her, then me, back and forth. I'll never forget that look—like he was staring at a rotting fish, brimming with disgust.
He muttered something to her and stormed off. She collapsed right there and screamed at me.
"Why'd you pick this place to eat?"
"Why'd you keep me out this late?"
"I regret wasting my time on a loser like you!"
She unloaded it all. So I fired back.
"You chose the place."
"We were chatting and laughing."
"You said I was nice."
"I regret it too, you bitch."
After that shouting match, I trudged home, googling shit like "how to escape being a total loser" on my phone.
...Whatever. It didn't matter anymore. That date taught me something huge.
Love's all bullshit. If you delude yourself into thinking someone likes you, you end up with manipulative bitches like her.
Screw it. Just live like a dick.
BAM!
I slammed the door shut and stepped into my dark studio apartment. No lights on—I beelined straight for the computer desk. Gotta do what I gotta do.
Booted up the PC. Click clack click clack. In the pitch-black room, only the monitor's glow lit the space.
A diligent college student would've crashed into bed by now, but I needed to steady my nerves. No way I could sleep lying down right now.
So what am I doing? Just listening to some classical music.
With a side of eroge this time.
"Ahhhn, yes, ah!"
"S-stop that!"
"Unngh!"
I was this close to the ending of a game I'd been grinding. Had to be up early for work tomorrow, but fuck it—I couldn't hold back. Screw listening to that sage; it'd just fuck me over. Maybe I should be playing eroge instead?
No matter how I sliced it, this felt like the right answer.
In the silent room, only the final boss—the Demon King's—moans echoed.
The Lust Demon King, a virgin? And getting utterly railed by the hero without a fight? Hilarious.
The Demon King wasn't weak, nah. The hero's skills were just busted; she couldn't even use her powers before getting wrecked.
Eroge gonna eroge. By the late game, all the lewd skills unlock, and the final boss loses to the protagonist, meeting a sticky end.
That's how they'd all gone in my experience.
But this one? It had some world-altering bullshit skill. By the end, the hero dominates everything. Kills who he wants, fucks who he wants. The whole world's his playground.
"Grgh, I... haaah, won't... give in...!"
The Demon King-chan refusing to yield even against that hero.
"Ughhh...!"
A wave of感動 crashes over me.
Then it hit me: listening to Chopin's Nocturne in a dim studio, tears streaming for this noble Demon King.
Fuck. Reality crashing hard.
Haa... all because of that shitty blind date. Normally, this wouldn't faze me, but exhaustion had my brain narrating my pathetic ass in third person.
Wanna die for real.
My mind was already spinning fantasies of getting trucked and isekai'd as the hero.
How much time passed?
The once-noble Demon King was a total mess now—unwatchable.
Normally I'd quit and sleep, but tonight I kept staring, sucked in.
A bit pitiful, huh? Should I stop here?
Stretching, I rolled back from the desk on my wheeled chair.
Rrrroll.
That's when the monitor—showing the Demon King—started spinning like crazy.
What the—? End credits?
I stared blankly.
Urgh.
No, wait... my body's... weird.
Can't breathe right. Heart pounding like a marathoner after 42km. Ears thumping with tribal drums, drowning out the music and moans.
It clicked.
I'm dying.
Fuck! No time left! Can't even grab my phone for help.
But pausing the eroge to call? Social suicide.
True death by dilemma. Whatever I pick, I'm fucked.
But agonizing was pointless. I'd already chosen.
"Think." That's the option I picked.
Couldn't save shit. Body collapses.
Fuck—
***
I snapped awake, bolting upright.
Didn't die, good.
But... where am I?
Not a hospital. Looked like a fancy bedroom from a fantasy flick, complete with a maid gaping at me in horror.
"Th-the Demon King has awakened—AAAAHHH!!!"
The crazy maid bolted out the door screaming.
Hey, when a patient's coming to, explain the situation first!
Head felt fuzzier than usual, all muddled.
Demon King? Another patient here besides me? Weird name.
Scanning the room—no one else. Just me.
Spotted a hand mirror by the bed.
Leaned in slow, peering at my reflection.
"What the fuck."
Clear, high-pitched voice.
In the mirror: the Lust Demon King I'd just been defiling.