Reincarnated as an Evil Harem God

"So, Sylvaris, tell me," Iselynne began, her tone playful but edged, the kind of voice that carried both curiosity and warning, "what's your dream in this world? Your end goal, I mean... You seem like a decent person." She didn't call him good anymore—not after he'd tried to flirt his way into another woman's pants right in front of her face.

They were walking side by side through the mellow-lit streets of Rosa, the scent of roasted meats and honey wine drifting from nearby taverns. Laughter echoed in the alleys, lanterns swung gently overhead, and the night air had that crisp, exciting bite of a city that never truly slept.

Sylvaris tilted his head, eyes glancing at her from the side. She was beautiful in the moonlight. That pale skin, that glimmering ice-blue hair, the slight pout that she didn't know she had. He should have kissed her. Or fucked her. Or at least tried. But here he was, walking toward an inn like a gentleman, trying to buy separate rooms like some kind of idiot in love.

What the hell's wrong with me? He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing internally. I should be railing someone tonight. I deserve it after today. My balls are practically humming.

But instead, he cleared his throat and forced out a civilized answer.

"My dream?" he repeated, pretending to think, though the truth was… he had a dozen dreams. Conquer the world. Fuck every beautiful woman. Kill a few gods. Make his name echo through eternity. Maybe build a palace out of enemy skulls and raise his kids with fox tails and elf ears—the usual.

Still, with her, he wanted to say something different. Something that wouldn't make her slap him.

So he smirked, slowing his steps just a little as they neared the glowing sign of the inn. "I want everything," he said simply. "Power. Legacy. A throne that nobody dares to challenge. And maybe…"

He paused for a moment

"Maybe I'll tell you later," Sylvaris said with a smirk, hands behind his head as they strolled, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief. "It's a big one… not easy to swallow, haha." He chuckled like he wasn't hiding the ambition of a madman.

Iselynne pouted instantly, her cheeks puffing out like a sulking little hamster, and for a moment, Sylvaris swore she was about to smack him across the back of the head. The nerve… she thought. I asked for his dream and he gives me a damn joke?

But instead of slapping him, she sighed through her nose, shaking her head with a smile creeping at the edges of her lips. Because even if he was being ridiculous, she could see that fire in his eyes. That unstoppable, maddening gleam of a man who was chasing something impossible—and somehow believed he could catch it.

Yeah… sure... A hundred women and the throne of the villain king… What a grand dream. If she actually knew the truth, she'd probably run screaming into the woods.

"Then you must tell me before the fifth full moon," Iselynne said suddenly, her voice steady, her face lit with an unexpected fire of determination.

Sylvaris blinked, then let out a deep laugh. "The fifth full moon? What is this, a prophecy?" He grinned, clearly amused. "Sounds like something out of a fairy tale."

"Don't laugh." Her voice cut through his humor, sharp and unwavering, and her ice-blue eyes locked onto his with surprising intensity. They had just reached a quiet part of the road, only a few meters from the inn's carved wooden doors glowing under the soft lantern light—but she stopped him in his tracks.

Sylvaris tilted his head slightly, studying her. What is she thinking? Her gaze wasn't playful. It was... sincere. And something about that made his chest tighten.

"Alright then," he said at last, his voice softer now, more careful. "I'll tell you before the fifth full moon rises—but only if you make me a promise too."

Her brow lifted. "What promise?"

"That you won't hate me... when you hear what my dream really is."

"Why?" she asked, folding her arms under her chest. "Does it involve women?"

Her bluntness almost made him laugh again, but this time he just smiled instead, something gentler, deeper, curling on his lips. "Who knows..." he said lightly, stepping closer. "But you'll be the first to ever hear it. That much, I promise."

Then his hand rose again, fingers sliding into her soft hair like it was already second nature. He patted her head gently, and her cheeks—already pale under the moonlight—blushed faintly pink, her breath catching as they stood there beneath the silent stars.

"Really?!" she gasped, her entire face lighting up like the stars themselves had fallen from the heavens just to reflect in her eyes. She twirled once in place, arms spreading like wings, her voice soft and thrilled, as if she'd just been promised her favorite doll as a child—or a future she never thought she could have. "Then good! We must plan something big for that day when you tell me! And of course, I am the woman of honor!" She saluted dramatically, nearly tipping over from how much she laughed, her boots skimming over the cobbled stones as her joy bubbled over without care or restraint.

Sylvaris watched her in silence, the corners of his lips tugging up, not in his usual smirk, but something far rarer. A true smile. Her laughter echoed along the narrow street, dancing through the cool night air like windchimes under moonlight. The stars above Rosa burned clear, and the moon—high and proud in the velvet sky—bathed her in silver as if blessing the moment. Her ice-blue hair shimmered like a river of frozen silk beneath that light, and the glow in her cheeks made her look almost ethereal.

He should've been thinking about how many beds the inn might have. Or what kind of women were still walking the street at this hour. Or which tavern had the best drinks and warmest thighs waiting. But instead, he found himself rooted, caught in the gravity of this strange girl's joy, her trust, her belief in him.

"I truly promise to you," she said after her laughter faded, her voice softening as her eyes met his again—wide, honest, and shining with the kind of conviction that could tear down walls, "whatever your dream is, I will support it. You have my word, Sylvaris."

The world didn't need to pause… but it felt like it did. The wind slowed. The moon seemed to grow brighter. Somewhere, deep in his chest, something stirred—a pulse of warmth, dangerous and quiet. He blinked, almost uncertain. Not from disbelief. From fear. A rare kind of fear he hadn't felt in years.

What are you doing to me…?

If Sylvaris had even the faintest idea why they got along this well from the start, if he knew what ancient thread had looped them together long before this night, he wouldn't be smiling.

He'd be screaming.

Because this connection—this pull—wasn't chance. It wasn't affection or lust. It wasn't just the beauty of her laughter or the softness of her voice.

It was spiritual. Timeless. Bound in a way that defied logic or fate.

And neither of them was ready for what that would mean.

"Let's head in, it's getting cold out here," Sylvaris said casually, brushing a hand through his hair as the night breeze curled around them. The air had shifted, carrying a crisp bite that hinted at morning frost, and even the stars above Rosa seemed to shimmer a little harder against the darkening sky.

But what happened next lit both of them up redder than a pair of blushing teenagers caught sneaking kisses behind the stables.

"We only have one room left," the innkeeper announced flatly, not even looking up from her ledger. Her voice was casual, like she'd seen this scenario a thousand times before. "If you don't want it, feel free to try your luck elsewhere. Though at this hour? Good luck finding anything with the Great Festival of the Gathering of Young Adventurers starting tomorrow. City's packed." She gave a lazy shrug. "Anyway, aren't you two a couple?"

Sylvaris froze.

Iselynne choked on her breath.

Neither of them had the guts to say no. Neither had the pride to say yes.

And so, without another word, they were handed a single key... to a single room… with one very large bed waiting inside.

As they climbed the stairs in silence, neither dared look at the other, but both of them could feel it—the heat rising in their faces, the quickened rhythm of their hearts, the awkward silence crackling between them like charged lightning.

When they reached the top, Sylvaris finally chuckled under his breath.

"So... just one bed, huh."

And though Iselynne said nothing, her fingers clenched the edge of her robe tighter, her pale cheeks glowing like embers under the hallway lanterns.

This night… was going to be long.