Shinji Matou At Your Service

Chapter 260: Hideo Hayama

The ancient text said: "The appearance arises from the heart." In plain terms, it means that one's appearance is connected to their thoughts. Those with impure thoughts will also tend to have a relatively unkempt appearance.

In the past, Shinji didn't believe in this kind of nonsense, but now he's starting to believe it a bit—because the best example is right in front of him. Hideo Hayama is the epitome of "appearance arises from the heart."

First of all, he has yellow hair.

Yes, yellow hair. Not the dazzling golden color that catches the eye and shines under the sun. Not the orange color that is cool on the outside and warm on the inside, with a sense of depth. It's just that most common shade of yellow, resembling the color of excrement when seen in a slightly darker place.

What does yellow hair signify in the 2D world?

Cuckolding, being a cuckold, NTR, and so on. If NTR Slayer does exist this guy will be the first target.

With such yellow hair, it's understandable for him to engage in acts of coercion, forcing others, or organizing female students for compensated dating.

Next, let's talk about this guy's appearance.

Do you think I would say he's handsome? Impossible! If a guy like that were handsome, how could girls engage in compensated dating relationships with him? They would just drain him dry—don't forget, the students at Reien Girl's Academy come from wealthy and privileged families; they have no shortage of money. The girls aren't after money but rather pleasure and rebellion. Well, Shinji himself is starting to consider becoming a homeroom teacher at the academy. With his appearance and family background, there would be plenty of girls throwing themselves at him. Unfortunately, a certain part of him hasn't developed fully, so why did he have to transmigrate as Shinji? Why not as Soujuurou? That way... ahem, I'm digressing. Let's continue talking about the guy.

This guy's appearance falls into the category of typical gloominess.

Small eyes, high cheekbones, a thin face, a pointed chin, a hooked nose—it doesn't look like he's a good person. Add to that his waxen yellow complexion and the description not far from withered, and it inexplicably brings to mind a tagline from an advertisement: "Sore waist and legs, lack of energy, as if your body has been hollowed out."

Well, there are about thirty students in Class 4, and at least twenty of them have been with this guy, so it's normal for him to end up like this. After all, he's not the hentai protagonist, let alone a person-shaped self-propelled cannon like Fergus. Does he think his kidneys are made of iron?

Whether they're made of iron or not, we'll find out soon enough.

Having successfully invaded Hideo Hayama's dorm, Shinji stood in Hayama's bedroom, cleared his throat, adjusted his voice with magecraft, and finally yanked off Hayama's blanket.

"Hi... deo... Ha... Yama..." The voice was eerie, like a demon whispering.

"Hi, deo, Ha, Yama!" The voice was deep, like a judge passing judgment.

"Hi~ deo~ Ha~ Yama~" The voice was elusive, like a vengeful spirit seeking revenge.

"HIDEOHAYAMA." The voice exploded, like thunder.

Different calls, the same name being called, gradually stripped Hideo Hayama of his sleepiness.

With the final loud shout, Hayama jolted awake, his whole body shivering, breaking free from his dreams.

"Ah—"

The middle-aged man, drenched in cold sweat, let out a scream of terror. He sat up from the bed, about to wipe his sweat, but then he noticed a dark shadow in the corner of the room.

At first, he thought it was his drowsiness playing tricks on him, but after rubbing his eyes, he realized the shadow was still there. He couldn't help but shrink back and ask with a trembling voice.

"Who, who's there?"

Silence followed, with no response.

Unconsciously, Hayama reached for the bedside lamp, seemingly wanting to turn on the light for inspection.

Just at that moment, the indistinct shadow suddenly moved.

"clatter~ clatter~clatter~ clatter~" (Insert Tom shivering in fear.)

Amidst Hayama's chattering teeth, the shadow swayed and floated, approaching him.

The shadow was draped in a long cloak, wearing a grotesque mask on its face, resembling both a malevolent spirit from Japanese mythology and a grim reaper from Western mythology.

The hovering reaper, with hollow eyes, looked down on Hayama from above, calling out his name: "Hi, deo, Ha, yama."

"Ehhhhhh—!"

Such a bizarre scene frightened Hayama to the point where he curled up, holding his head and screaming shrilly.

"Hideo Hayama! Submit to your fate! Submit to your fate! Submit to your fate!"

The Grim Reaper shouted, bringing its grotesque and terrifying face closer, so close that Hayama could see the flickering flames in its eyes.

"No! Don't come closer, don't come closer—You've got the wrong person!"

Hayama scrambled backward, using both his hands and feet. However, he forgot that he was on the bed, and he only moved a few centimeters before falling off the edge, landing in a sprawled position.

After struggling to get back up, he realized that the ghostly face was still hovering in front of him.

"Who, who are you!"

Perhaps the pain gave Hayama courage, or perhaps he wanted to die with a clear understanding. Trembling, he asked the question that Shinji had been waiting for.

This wimp finally asked, making me wait for so long.

While complaining inwardly, Shinji answered in a hoarse and ominous voice:

"I am the Grim Reaper, here to guide you on your journey."

If it were a different time, a different place, and someone claimed to be the Grim Reaper, Hayama would have doubted if that person's mind had gone crazy. However, now, in his own home, with a ghostly figure floating right in front of him, he couldn't help but believe.

Live a righteous life and fear no ghosts knocking on your door at midnight. Hayama had done something wrong, so he was afraid, very afraid.

Moreover, to create an atmosphere and prove his identity, Shinji drew a long-handled scythe from his cloak and pointed it at Hayama's neck. The cold gleam on the blade sent shivers down Hayama's spine.

He immediately dropped to his knees, prostrating himself on the floor, desperately pleading, "Grim Reaper-sama, spare me, spare me!"

"Spare you?" Shinji let out a mocking cold laugh. "Someone has already paid a sufficient price. I am here to take you to the underworld. How could I break the contract?"

"A price? Are you... a hitman?"

As soon as he realized it wasn't the Grim Reaper, Hayama's courage surged, but in the next moment, the blade of the scythe pressed down on his neck.

"A hitman? Don't compare me to those underground professionals of your kind. Otherwise, I'll take you to the underworld for judgment."

"I dare not, I dare not!"

Hayama apologized repeatedly, but the movement of his eyes revealed that his inner thoughts were far from as obedient as his outward appearance.

"Might I ask, Grim Reaper-sama, who and at what price requested your presence to take my life?"

"Do you want to know?" Shinji exhaled a breath of mist, and the flames in his eyes burned even brighter—these were all special effects of the mask, a toy that Justeaze spent half an hour making.

"Please, Grim Reaper-sama, let me understand before I die."

Perhaps understanding what Hayama was thinking, Shinji nodded slightly, "Alright, I'll let you understand. The person who asked me to take you to the underworld is Kaori Tachibana, and the price was her soul—you should know why."

Hayama's pupils suddenly contracted, and his body trembled uncontrollably.

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