'Wait, I'm Supposed to Become a Goddess?! But I'm a Guy!'

I need a protagonist, Mize mused again, but this time the thought settled deep within him.

He needed someone with the kind of tragic backstory and raw potential that would inevitably lead to greatness or someone to support, build up, and then reap the rewards once they hit their stride.

The perfect hero for him to latch onto.

A hero...

It must be a hero, the goodie guy...

But usually, they would face countless life and death challenges at every turn... but... they would become stronger too.

It was a bit of a dilemma, but Mize focused on those op protagonists with overpowered power or something else.

'A grandpa who hides inside the pendant around his neck?'

'Yeah, the one that will become op quite quickly so I doesn't have to worry about him not being able to protect me early on'

Yes, he thought, the plan crystallizing as the bus approached in the distance.

Find a hero when he's at his lowest, be there for him, and when he’s powerful… I’ll have a front-row seat to the rewards.

It was a beautiful dream, almost too perfect.

And this world?

Oh, it was more than what it appeared to be on the surface.

Mize knew that much already. The deeper he dug into the internet, the more twisted and bizarre the truth became.

The world wasn’t just chaotic, it was a storm of madness swirling around, and if you weren’t careful, you could easily drown in it.

As the bus neared, its quiet hum drawing closer, Mize straightened up on the bench, a bit of grunting as he stretched his body a little.

The bus was already closing in from the other side, and little did he know, a particular boy had seen him stretching with wide eyes, a bit of longing even in the boy's eyes.

System, Mize called silently, his posture casual, are there children of destiny in this world? You know, the ones who are super OP and favored by heaven, the kinds who end up badass?

The system responded immediately, the words appearing in his mind like a digital echo:

[Yes, host. There are many in this world.]

Mize’s pulse skipped a beat. Oh? He stood up, smoothing his jeans as the bus pulled to a stop.

No smell of oil or gas, just a clean, efficient hum as it ran on battery, the radiator hissing softly.

He felt the warmth of steam brush against his face for a moment before it dissipated into the cool morning air.

The doors opened with a faint hiss, and Mize stepped inside, his usual nonchalant stride leading him toward the back of the bus.

His attention split between finding a seat and pursuing his next thought.

Then, he asked the system, 'Find me a super OP one who’s closest to me right now'

[Yes, host. Searching...]

His eyes scanned the back, settling on an empty seat in the far corner next to a person slouched over, hood up and head down, seemingly dozing off.

Mize approached quietly, keeping to himself as he gave the hooded figure a gentle nudge.

"Hey, mister," he murmured, "can I sit here?"

The guy stirred, blinking groggily before tilting his head just enough for their eyes to meet.

"A-ah... yeah, go ahead," he muttered, shifting slightly to make room.

Mize hesitated for just a second, caught off guard by the faint spark in the guy’s deep black eyes.

It was so dark and deep, more like a bottomless gaping hole.

And then, right on cue, the system’s voice rang again in Mize’s mind, almost as if fate had written the moment for him.

[The protagonist that suits the host's needs is directly in front of you, possessing a 'golden finger'—along with several other powerful traits.]

Mize’s heart skipped. His body froze for just a split second.

No way. Of all the people in the world, of all the moments, this kid, sitting right here next to him, was the one?

And it was too abrupt at that!

No way that this just happened because he wished fot it.

It seemed so deliberate that he began to suspect that this was the system's doing.

Th boy in front of him waved his hand, eyes full of concern, breaking Mize’s momentary trance. "Miss? You okay?"

Mize blinked, quickly regaining his composure.

"Ah, yeah, I’m good." He gave a quick nod before sliding into the seat, his movements smooth but casual.

As he sat down, his gaze flickered back to the boy’s face for just a second longer, taking him in.

Well, he thought, this one’s got potential. The boy had that look, the kind of person who could be hiding something extraordinary under layers of awkward shyness.

He wasn’t bad-looking either, with a face that would probably draw attention once he shed the hood and gained some confidence.

A diamond in the rough, Mize mused, already plotting in his head.

Not knowing that this boy will be his biggest nightmare and also the soon to be terror of the world and beyond.

He leaned back against the seat, settling into the shared armrest between them.

His hair cascaded over his shoulders, loose and freshly washed, with the faint scent of lavender lingering in the air.

It wasn’t on purpose, but Mize could tell that the boy had noticed, his arm had twitched slightly the moment their elbows brushed.

It wasn’t much, just a small touch, but Mize could feel the subtle tension between them.

The kid was trying hard to act like it didn’t happen like he hadn’t noticed, but the slight tremor in his movements betrayed him.

Mize smirked inwardly.

Too easy. But he wasn’t here to intimidate the guy or make him uncomfortable.

Small gestures, subtle moves to build rapport.

That’s what would work best or at least that was the way he thought would work the best.

He relaxed further into the seat, one arm resting lazily on the armrest, fingers lightly grazing the edge of the seat.

His other hand twirled a strand of his hair, a casual gesture as he let the silence stretch between them, comfortable in its ease.

There was no rush. No need to force anything. The boy, the protagonist, Mize corrected mentally, was already hooked, whether he knew it or not.

The plan was simple, build trust, be the one person this kid could rely on, and then reap the benefits as he inevitably rose to greatness.

Small gestures, Mize reminded himself. Keep it cool.

Unbeknownst to him, his plan was destined to fail. Logic couldn't be applied to a protagonist or these group of people since they operated outside of logic itself.

The bus rattled forward, each bump providing Mize with a small window to observe the boy’s reactions with a few other touches here and there, test his plan, and execute his every move carefully.

The fifteen-minute ride to the school would give him just enough time to make an impression, and he had no intention of wasting it.

Small gestures, he reminded himself. Don't scare him off too early.

Mize casually adjusted the bag on his lap, subtly leaning to one side.

His posture was deliberate, the slight turn revealing a sliver of his neck, smooth, almost translucent pale skin, accentuated by the dark collar snug around it.

Against his soft appearance, the collar hinted at a wild, untamed quality that was anything but innocent.

The exposed veins only added to the effect, and it didn’t take long for the boy next to him to start fidgeting, retreating further into his side of the seat, his gaze flickering nervously away from their shared armrest.

Other boys scattered throughout the bus had taken notice too, and Mize was keenly aware of it.

He could practically feel their stares, sharp, questioning, a bit envious as they glanced at his seatmate, clearly wondering how this nobody had ended up next to someone like her.

Their interest was blatant, and it amused Mize to see them practically shoot daggers his way.

He gave them a quick, challenging glance, letting his lips curl just a little in a smirk.

Then, as if addressing them directly, he muttered, just loud enough for their ears, “What are you perverts staring at? Wanna die?” The words sounded harsh, especially coming from his soft, almost doll-like voice, but that only made the statement more unsettling, and amusing.

With his delicate features, red eyes that gleamed almost mischievously, and puffed cheeks tinged with faint irritation, he looked more like a pouting cherub than anything truly threatening.

One of the boys blinked, caught off guard. “A-ah, sorry…we weren’t…uh,” he stammered, quickly grabbing his friend by the shoulder and turning away with a hurried mutter, cheeks flushed.

Satisfied, Mize settled back, a victorious smile playing on his lips.

He crossed his arms with a little nod of triumph, letting his attention drift back to the boy sitting beside him.

From his vantage point, Mize could see the boy’s face turning a shade pinker, his eyes wide and hesitant, as if he’d been watching something both mesmerizing and terrifying all at once.

He quickly looked away, hunching in on himself, trying to shrink his presence down to nothing.

Interesting, Mize thought with a flicker of amusement, catching the boy’s behavior from the corner of his eye.

Leaning over slightly, Mize let his hair fall forward, brushing softly against his shoulders as he reached out and tapped the boy on the shoulder.

“Hey, you.” His voice was soft but clear, each syllable designed to keep the boy on edge.

The boy stiffened, the corners of his mouth twitching into an awkward, almost pained smile as he forced himself to meet Mize’s gaze.

“Y-yes?” he replied, stammering, the nervousness evident in his expression.