Esoteric Buddhism: To live as king in America

You are the king, the master of this country.

In the dirty, cramped washroom, Mian opened her eyes blankly.

He was naked, holding a pistol, and facing a broken mirror stained with blood.

The shattered mirror honestly reflected his current appearance—a emaciated, naked man who looked like he had just had a hangover. His eyes bulged slightly from their sockets, his nose was red, he was missing three front teeth, and there were streaks of blood on his forehead. He looked like a clown, a naked clown.

Scattered memories surfaced in her mind, and Mian felt that she shouldn't look like this.

He should have been a teacher; he should have been born in a peaceful and stable country filled with ideals and beliefs. His parents raised him to be an outstanding young man.

So, Mian boarded the plane that was there to support underdeveloped areas, and then...

"Did I time travel?"

After the classic three questions, "Who am I? Where am I? What am I supposed to do?" flashed through her mind, Mian rubbed her head and finally realized what was happening.

Like a chain reaction, the memories of this body that had been suppressed by the hangover also surged into Mian's mind, telling him his current identity.

The body's owner was also named Mian. He was an employee of a technology company in the Free Capital of the Ocean Federation, and just six months ago, he lost his job.

In an attempt to salvage his life, he chose to take a risk... and then... the pain of a hangover, like a giant club, forcefully pierced the vortex of his thoughts, blurring the memory into a hazy mess.

Mian only remembered that the original owner of this body was ultimately driven to desperation, ending up in the bathroom of this cheap motel in the slums where he pulled the trigger against his temple. He left behind only millions in debt and a group of debt collectors searching for him, leaving Mian, who had taken over this body.

"Why is it always this disastrous start? Can't they at least pick a better host when they transmigrate?"

Mian was full of complaints, but there was nothing she could do. After all, she had been given a second life, so she packed her things and prepared to think of a way to resolve the current situation.

Thinking this, Mian turned on the tap and reached out to wash her face. Just then, she caught sight of a line of small words on the broken mirror again.

You are the king, the master of this country.

Then he noticed that the small print suddenly started to extend.

[Mian, 24 years old, teacher, that was your past identity.]

"Wow!"

Mian couldn't help but exclaim in surprise, not only because the text he had once thought was graffiti had suddenly come to life, but also because this thing had opened his account without any warning.

However, after a brief moment of surprise, countless plots from time-travel novels flooded her mind, and Mi An's eyes lit up.

Could this be his cheat code?

But then the words that appeared on the mirror slapped him hard across the face.

[You find yourself transmigrated into the body of the king of the infinitely glorious Kingdom of Haris. After examining yourself, you realize you don't seem to have any special advantages. But so what? Looking at the magnificent palaces around you and the sturdy armor blessed by the gods, you still feel incredibly satisfied. "Perhaps being a handsome and dashing king is the biggest advantage in itself," you think to yourself.]

"?"

A huge question mark appeared above Mian's head. Did these words describe the same thing as his current situation?

What do you mean I transmigrated into a handsome and dashing king? And a palace? Look at that clown face, and then look at that pile of shit in the corner, how dare you write something like this?

"Wait a minute, what king? Didn't I transmigrate into the body of an unemployed employee in the Ocean Federation?"

He tapped the lens from which the words had appeared, asking a worried question. But the words paid no heed, continuing to extend like a small snake, avoiding the bloodstains and cracks on the lens.

You look around the palace and are very satisfied with its interior decoration.

The golden throne gleams to your left, bathed in the light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"That's a fucking leaky toilet."

The holy sword capable of severing the giant dragon's head is at your right hand; just a glance at it makes you feel as if you possess boundless power.

"That's a mop handle with its head broken off, bro."

You are completely satisfied with the current situation, and even feel that you could comfortably spend the rest of your life doing nothing.

"Lie down my ass! Given the original owner's living conditions, if I really lay down, I wouldn't be able to get up again!"

Looking at the words that had absolutely nothing to do with her situation, Mian was dumbfounded. Regardless of whether this thing was actually her cheat code, it seemed to be malfunctioning now.

In this cruel world where you could be killed by capitalism at any moment, is it really true that you can only survive by relying on yourself alone?

You hear footsteps approaching from outside your palace. There's no doubt that those ugly, short goblins are back.

A newly appeared line of text suddenly covered everything in front of her, standing out conspicuously in front of Mian. Simultaneously, a series of heavy footsteps echoed from outside the door.

They bypassed the corridor, rushed into the room, and finally stopped outside the bathroom, whose door was locked.

"Mian—"

A voice, so rude it was almost unbearable, rang out from outside the door, carrying a strong sense of threat.

"I know you're in there. If you still can't come up with the money today, well, you know, Sacred Heart University is charging a lot for corpses this quarter."

The fear that originated from the original owner of the body surged into his heart, causing Mian's body to tremble uncontrollably. In just an instant, he understood who had come.

Those were debt-collecting gangs, the true masters of this place rarely visited by the police. Their threats were not feigned; for pitiful people like the original owner who couldn't repay their debts, facing them meant certain death.

Damn it.

Mian forcibly suppressed his body's instinctive fear and began searching for a way to escape his fate of death.

The bathroom ventilation ducts were too cramped; escape was impossible. The last bullet in his pistol had been used in his suicide attempt yesterday. He was only wearing his underwear, and not a single penny could be found on his body.

The gangsters began ramming the door. The thin wooden door of the bathroom teetered precariously under their powerful blows, on the verge of collapsing. Death seemed imminent for Mian.

However, at that moment, a flash of white light suddenly appeared in the corner of Mian's eye. The faucet that Mian had turned on earlier, but had forgotten about, was now overflowing, its water gushing out and filling the entire basin.

The malfunctioning white light text, like a nimble little snake, climbed up the water from the glass mirror and entered Mian's field of vision.

These dragon minions have attempted to steal your wealth. This has filled you with righteous rage. You are now armored; simply take up your holy sword, open the door, and you can show these thieves the fury of a lion.