The Scumbag’s Second Life

Malvin threw himself lazily onto the comfort of his plush cream couch, sighing as he stared blankly at the glittering chandelier overhead.

"So… you went and did it again, didn't you?" Larry muttered from the opposite couch, pinching the bridge of his nose like a disappointed father.

Malvin shrugged. "Those damn police always overreact to the most useless things. Like geez… give a man a break."

Larry stared at him with an are-you-fucking-serious expression.

Malvin lifted his hands innocently. "Come on, dude. There are actual murderers running around the country, yet somehow I'm the priority. It's annoying as hell."

"It's because you're a nuisance too, Malvin!" Larry half-yelled, disappointment heavy in his voice. "A policewoman caught you having sex with someone's wife in a dark alley near McRonald's!"

"It's not like I raped her. It was consensual," Malvin shot back, voice dropping as he avoided eye contact. "She thought I was cool so… you know. I bent her over."

Larry dragged a hand down his face.

"You're unbelievable. Now tell me why you then seduced the policewoman trying to arrest you and ended up fucking both of them in that alley? What kind of lust-riddled beast are you?"

"It was just sex. An unexpected outdoor threesome. No need to overreact."

He stood and walked to the fridge, opening it. "It's the only thing entertaining my boring life anyway. So give me a break."

Larry watched him pull out a soda, crack it open, and chug half in one go.

He had been friends with Malvin since childhood. They were basically brothers. And over the years, he'd watched Malvin slowly lose the spark in his eyes, not because of tragedy, but because Malvin's parents were multi-billionaires.

The guy was born with a golden spoon shoved so far down his throat he probably gagged on it.

He grew up with everything handed to him. The looks of an angel dropped onto earth. Girls at college fantasized about him constantly, and he exploited it fully. Any girl who folded under his charm ended up in his bed.

"The paparazzi came looking for you this afternoon," Larry muttered. "Apparently your fans want to know who you're getting engaged to."

"I have no plans of marriage," Malvin said flatly as he dropped back onto the couch.

"Your father gathered the most beautiful girls in the country. Famous actresses, rich daughters, entrepreneurs and stuff. He wants you to choose one and—"

"I said I don't want that shit!" Malvin barked, downing more soda.

Larry sighed.

Malvin had become a famous model without even trying. Magazines worshipped him, paparazzi chased him, women wanted him, men envied him.

But all that perfection hollowed him out. He never felt ambition. Never felt the joy of struggling toward something meaningful.

In a world where most people drowned in financial problems… Malvin drowned in financial stability.

It killed him slowly.

Larry stood, paused the isekai anime on the TV, and exhaled.

"Tell me something, bro… what do you actually wish for?"

Malvin blinked at the random weird question. "You good? Did you hit your head?"

But Larry didn't even smile. He was dead serious.

Malvin sighed and set the can down. "What do I wish for, huh?" He tapped his temple. He had everything, so what else could he want?

Except…

"Maybe I could wish for a life I have to mold with my own hands," he said quietly. "A life where I actually struggle. Where I rise to where I am now through my own strength… or maybe even surpass myself."

Larry stared at him for a moment. The serious expression in his face matched his words.

At least not all hope was lost for his dear friend. He smiled a little before chuckling.

"Bro—that was the most cringe shit I've ever heard. Goddamn." He joked.

"Fuck you," Malvin growled. "You're the one who asked the stupid question."

Larry touched his chest dramatically. "Such a royal speech. My soul is moved. But I doubt that wish is possible in this world… I mean—a single picture of you could pay for someone's lifetime of luxury."

Before Malvin could insult him again, his phone rang. He answered it, heading to his room.

Ten minutes later, he came downstairs in a fresh outfit.

"Where are you going?" Larry asked.

"Meeting someone," Malvin said, snatching a car key from a board on the wall with lots of keys.

"It's late. Can't it wait until tomorrow?"

"No. Her husband comes back tomorrow."

Larry slapped his forehead. "I knew it. You meeting a married woman—again. Can't you just sleep with single women for once?"

Malvin grinned. "Nah… it's more fun when they're married. And fucking them in their husband's bed? The thrill that he might walk in and catch me balls-deep? Bro… that's unbeatable."

"You're a damn scumbag," Larry groaned. "Just—be careful."

"Gotcha. I'll be back in an hour."

He didn't return in an hour.

He didn't return at all.

The next morning, Larry woke to the TV reporting something that froze his blood.

[Gunshots in Eastgate suburbs last night. Famous model Malvin Gayeman found shot six times in the chest. Evidence confirms he was killed by Comrade Bombshell, a former soldier who discovered Malvin sleeping with his wife.]

Larry stared at the screen, pale as death. His friend… was gone.

Malvin's funeral was a spectacle. Crowds gathered like it was a president's burial. Especially women.

Some cried loudly, devastated that "the boy who fucked so good" had died.

Others danced in sundresses with no panties as their final tribute to him.

Men sighed in relief. The bastard who slept with their wives was finally gone.

**

Meanwhile, after his death, Malvin drifted in pitch-black nothingness.

Dying with a hard dick inside someone's wife wasn't ideal, but… hey. Price of being a scumbag.

I wish… for a life I'll mold with my own hands…

For some reason, these particular words echoed in the dark.

"Your wish is granted."

A soft, angelic voice filled with life responded. Light burst through the darkness, washing him in divine warmth.

When it cleared, Malvin stood in a massive hall so tall and grand that he couldnt see where it ended. A heavenly melody hummed in the background. His body glowed faintly and the bullet holes in his chest were gone.

"Am I… dead?" he muttered.

"Yes. You died," the sweet voice replied.

He looked up to see the source of the voice, and literally froze for a few seconds.

A stunning woman in a skimpy white dress lounged on a floating couch. A golden halo hovered above her head like a divine crown.

"What… a gorgeous sight," he whispered.

He'd slept with countless women, but none came close to this one. She had perfect small, pink lips that matched her unusual bioluminescent pink eyes. Cute button nose. Silky golden hair. Soft skin. A body shaped like an hourglass with luscious curves and teardrop boobs, literally staring at him and begging to be touched.

He walked right up to her.

"Can I touch your boobs?" he blurted, zero hesitation, zero shame.

The goddess froze, her face turning crimson.

A second later, her eyes widened in horror.

Because Malvin was casually twirling her white bra around his finger like a victory prize.

"H-HOW—W-WHEN DID YOU TAKE OFF MY BRA?!" she shrieked, her hands covering her overly proportioned chest.

Malvin closed his eyes, lifted his chin smugly, and smiled like a man accepting an award.

"I'm pretty skilled at stealing women's undergarments."

He said it with pride. Genuine pride. Like he'd trained years for this moment.

WHAM!!

A slap struck him so hard his soul almost left his already-dead body.

He rolled, coughed, and blinked at the ceiling.

Oh yeah. He'd done it again.

Love at first boob.

TBC