SSS Ranked Summoning: I'm An Extra With The Strongest Harem System
Chapter 34: Rows(2)

Chapter 34: Rows(2)

Mikey’s hands trembled as ragged breaths came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling as though struggling to keep up with the rapid thudding of his heart.

His eyes darted wildly, unable to focus, unable to process the words that had just left the man’s mouth.

"No... no, this can’t be happening. This can’t be true." The words slipped from his lips, barely above a whisper, yet they carried the weight of his crumbling reality.

" I’m...I’m...I’m being charged with serial murder. First-degree mass murder?"

The weight of those words bore down on him like a crushing force. He had done nothing to deserve this! All he had done was purchase a damn-harem system—one that let him sleep with beautiful women. That was all!

"So, how?" His mind spiraled, panic tightening around his throat like an iron grip.

"...How the hell did I end up becoming a serial killer? No, this can’t be true. This can’t be!"

Before he could gather himself, his thoughts were abruptly cut off by the sharp crackle of the microphone.

The detective, the very man announcing his fate, continued his grim declaration, his face as docile as before.

"...The list goes on and on." the detective’s voice echoed through the vast chamber, unyielding and certain.

"But the bottom line is, Mr. Dickson, your crimes have finally caught up to you. And following the laws of the state of Maddenport, you have been sentenced to death by electrocution."

At that moment, a brief yet deliberate silence settled over both the stark white chamber along with the observation room beyond the glass.

The detective’s hand shifted, pressing a switch before him on the control switch situated afront of him.

The click resounded, followed by a deep, buzzing hum.

The door in the white-walled execution chamber slid open, and following that, two strictly dressed police officers stepped inside.

Their faces were void of emotion, their movements mechanical, and their gazes cold and numb. They each dragged a machine—a hulking contraption that groaned against the floor. Wires trailed from its sides, and at the end of two thick cables were plier-like devices, metallic and menacing. Without hesitation, they dragged it toward the bound Michael Dickson.

Future Mikey sat there, bound by metal restraints on the arms of the chair. His face was unreadable, his head hung low. The officers worked efficiently, clamping the pliers onto the restraints. With a final glance at the detective behind the screen, they stepped back and gave a silent thumbs-up.

Current Mikey stood frozen, his face contorted in horror as his lips raced uncontrollably.

"Stop! Stop it! Stop!" he shouted, suddenly lunging toward the machine.

swinging his arms wildly, desperate to knock the device away. But—

His hands passed straight through it, as thought there was nothing there, leaving him in utter.

"What...?" He jerked his hand back, staring at it in slight confusion, turning it over as if expecting to find some explanation.

It looked the same, felt the same, hell it was the same. He clenched his fingers into a fist. Solid. And once more, he tried again— but his hand met nothing but air.

Frantic, he turned toward his future self.

He reached out, tried to grasp his shoulder. Still, there wqs nothing.

His fingers passed through flesh as if he were nothing more than a ghost, leaving him more and more uncertain.

"Michael Dickson." the voice from the speakers rang once more, sharp and impassive.

"Do you have any last words to say to the families of your victims, who have come to witness your execution?"

Mikey’s breath caught in his throat. He turned to face his future self, his words caught in his throat as he, along with the room beyond the glass remained silent. The air behind the glass panel was thick with something unreadable—anger, resentment, maybe even relief.

The spectators’ faces remained solemn, their expressions carved from stone. And yet, beneath that silence, their eyes screamed hatred.

Neverthless, the restrained Mikey remained motionless, his head still down, his posture slack.

"T-This has to be a lie." Mikey thought, his mind racing.

"This has to be some kind of bullshit!" He ranted as loud as his voice could go, seeking for any form of attention. However, he was only met with a sharp chime interrupted his spiraling thoughts.

A pop-up screen flickered before him.

[ CURRENT TIME Interval: 447 DAYS FROM PRESENT DAY]

Mikey’s stomach dropped, as his blood ran cold.

"What the fuck...?" He stared at the numbers, disbelief clawing at his mind.

"Is this... trying to tell me that I only have four hundred and forty-seven days left until this happens?"

The microphone crackled again.

"Mr. Dickson." the man in the long coat repeated.

Mikey’s head snapped back toward him. And there he could see the man’s patience was wearing thin. His gaze sharpened, voice laced with disdain.

"You really have nothing to say? You killed several of your classmates in cold blood. You conspired to murder. Attempted murder. More crimes than I can list. And worst of all, you murdered your own parents, Micheal Dickson. In cold blood." He leaned forward slightly.

"Don’t you at least feel sorry for yourself?"

Mikey’s breath hitched. His body stiffened as he was clouded with more and more unbelievable bad news.

"I...killed my own parents?...No... No, this can’t be...This can’t fucking be!"

His vision blurred.

"How the hell did I go from some horny pervert like me to this...?"

The silence in the room deepened, stretching further, wrapping everyone in a heavy, suffocating pause as they all awaited future Mikey’s reply. But there was nothing—until...

There was movement. Future Mikey, who had remained deathly still, finally lifted his head.

Slowly, his gaze dragged upward. His eyes, once empty, now locked onto the glass, onto the faces beyond.

A shadow passed over his features, almost utterly unreadable.

And then—

A conniving smile. A slow, unsettling, almost... amused smile curled on his lips.

Following his expression, the audience’s faces, once filled with solemn hatred, were now painted with unmistakable horror as though they had actually seen a monster.

Future Mikey’s smile stretched further, growing more mischievous by the second, then—

His lips parted. His voice, chilling, casual, yet laced with something unplaceable, filled the space.

"Yeah. Actually, I do have a few last words."

The room seemed to hold its breath as all, Mikey included, awaited the last words of the monster before their eyes.

Future Mikey tilted his head slightly, his eyes dark with malice. So, with a soft sigh, his gaze snapped- Directly to Mikey.

Mikey’s entire body went rigid, completely frozen in place. His eyes remained locked on him, filled with pure confusion, as a part of him struggled to grasp whether what was happening was even real.

The smile remained, unshaken, completely Despicable as he maintained his gaze exactly at Mikey’s, and then, he spoke.

"...You should have never accepted the damn system, you dumb, fucking bitch."

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