"....N-no...Dad! DAD!"
'Shouldn't it be daddy?' That woman's voice echoed instinctively in my mind, making me ponder how it should be pronounced—something like that, as random sounds reverberated inside my skull. More specifically, it sounded as though that same woman was yelling and screaming for someone.
"Wake up, you filthy human!"
Another sound followed, sharp and sudden, like the bite of an ant. I felt a pull on both of my eyelids, forcing them open abruptly. My eyes met the blinding glare of the ceiling lamp, causing my pupils to contract painfully. Yet, it felt as though my eyelids were being held open by some unseen insect. I tried to reach my hands toward my face.
But my hands were tied to the bed.
"W-who?" My mind was hazy, clouded—as if I were under the influence of some drug. It was hard to grasp where I was or what was happening.
Then, I felt that pull on my eyelids again. This time, my vision focused on a small, doll-like figure perched on my forehead, peering down at me with an air of arrogance. It was that woman.
'!'
"So, you've lost your ego," I thought, observing her diminutive size. It was clear that her pride had been shattered, likely after being thrown into a pool by a human. Her current form suggested that her once towering ego had dissipated, leaving behind only a fraction of her former self.
Yes, she had been 2% body and 98% haughty ego. With that 98% gone, only the 2% remained.
"Impudent insect! What have you done to me!" she screeched.
"Ugh..." She yelled again before jabbing her tiny hands directly into my eyes, causing me to instinctively jerk my hands away.
*Clank.*
The sound of metal chains rattled as my arms were restrained once more. I shook my head violently. "Damn you! Go away!"
"Kyaaaah!—s-stop! Stop! I'll fall!" Her cries filled the air, and for a moment, I increased the speed of my head-shaking.
Even if I got brain damage, I wanted to hear her scream after all the trouble she'd caused me. And now, even in my dreams, she was poking my eyes. 'What a terrible dream to have her in.'
"It's not a dream, you punk! STOP!" she shouted.
'Huh?' I stopped shaking my head and straightened it, looking up at the ceiling. My gaze shifted downward to her tiny form, now sprawled on my nose, gasping for breath.
If I had to estimate her size, her head reached my nose, and her legs barely touched my forehead—maybe eight centimeters tall.
But that was a thought for another time. Right now, I noticed something peculiar: she had read my mind. I stopped shaking my head as she gasped.
"Haaah...Haaah....I-I survived," she panted, lying on my nose as if it were a bench. From this distance, I could see that she was still wearing jeans and a top, but there was a new addition: wings on her back. Not the delicate wings of a fairy, but obsidian-black butterfly wings.
'Can you hear me?' I asked silently, wondering if her earlier response had been a coincidence.
"Of course I can, you insolent fool! I nearly died here!" she snapped.
'....Let me do it again, then.' I tilted my head, considering her reaction, and began to shake it once more.
"STOP! Yamete kudasai!!" she screamed in panic, slipping into Japanese.
I stopped. It was clear she was desperate, resorting to a language I didn't understand to plead with me. This confirmed that her ego was still intact—she couldn't even bring herself to say "please stop" in a language I understood.
But whatever. I pushed the thought aside and took in my surroundings. The lamp burning on the ceiling cast a harsh light, and the architecture around me resembled a box-like prison. My eyes caught sight of wooden grills adorned with paper talismans, the kind often seen in cultivation novels—yellow paper with red calligraphy.
This realization brought two things to mind. First, this was not a dream—I could read the talismans, not literally, but through my extensive exposure to poorly translated MTL novels. Second, I was in deep trouble.
But that was a problem for another day. I tried to lift my head, looking down at my hands and feet, which were chained to the wooden bed. The clothes I wore were tattered, resembling the traditional robes of a slave, the kind often depicted in anime—dirty and brown.
'Ah, shit, I need to stop comparing everything to anime and novels.' Most of my time was spent commuting between the office and home, with only web novels, anime, and other fictions filling the gaps. My mind was more attuned to fiction than reality.
"Haah...fool, just wait for Dad to come; you're dead!" she threatened suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts. I could feel her seated on my head, legs and arms crossed. To see her expression, I tilted my forehead slightly.
"Kyaa! Stop, you human! Don't create waves!" she cried.
Her words only encouraged me to bully her more, which I found oddly satisfying. I began shaking my head again, making her stumble until she fell, grabbing the edges of my nose for support.
"Haaah, Dad! Why aren't you coming to save me?" she wailed.
'Aren't I already here, daughter?'
"Shut up!" she snapped.
I had noticed earlier how desperately she was calling for help, which was confusing. Seeing her so desperate suggested that this wasn't a dream but rather a place from which even she, a reaper, couldn't escape.
I had initially thought she had shrunk herself willingly, but now, with her wings and inability to fly, it was clear something was wrong. I shook my head again.
"Uwwwah! Stop, stop!" she screamed, gripping my nose tightly.
'You're glued to my skin, aren't you?' I smirked, realizing that she could move across my skin but not away from it, like a magnet stuck to metal.
"....Hehehe, N-no, I-i was just trying to massage your forehead," she stammered, her sweat dripping onto my forehead.
Her lie was obvious, and now it was my chance to get back at her.
But before that.
'Which father are you calling for?'
My words came out wrong—I didn't mean to imply she had multiple fathers, but rather, who exactly was her dad?
"I only have one dad; I'm not from Ame—kyaaa!"
'Stop, you idiot! Stop naming countries! Just tell me already!' I wanted to press her further, but the sound of footsteps approaching interrupted us. With my hands tied and my body immobilized, I knew we were about to find out where we were.
Technically, I was aware of my situation, but this was far from making me panic. I had already faced death itself.
"Haa...Yam, he is my dad!" she finally admitted.
'Eh?' Either she was lying, or I now understood why that man hadn't lifted his head to speak properly or let me talk at that time.
So, Yam was this rascal's father? Of course, he had to hide his face after what his daughter had done. Given her haughty personality—even while acting up in front of Satan and others—it made sense that she was Yam's daughter. Otherwise, how could she act so confidently without fear of punishment?
'So, that's where you got that haughty attitude of yours—'
"Open this cage."
A voice came from outside the prison cell, drawing my attention. I glanced toward the sound and saw an old man standing beside three or four cloaked figures. In front of them was a man who looked exactly like me—a doppelganger.
'Why does he seem familiar?' For a brief moment, I locked eyes with my doppelganger. He looked like me, but his eyes were strange—a mix of gold and crimson, like those often depicted in demon stories. He also appeared malnourished, reminding me of a character from my favorite, yet abandoned, novel.
"Tell us, Leon, have you decided to marry Princess Aleriana Vandreat in my stead?" he asked.
'Why does he want me to cuck him?—HUH?'