Title: I Was Isekai’d With My Wife and Now She’s the Final Boss of the Fandom Author: H. Behevras Genre: Comedy, Isekai, Music, Married Protagonist, Parody Tags: #FinalBossWife #MetalheadMC #BoybandHell #TrashIsekaiButActuallyGenius

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CHAPTER 11: Confessions of a Not-So-Satanist

Scene: City Dungeon, Interrogation Room

Dark stone walls. Enchanted torches flicker ominously. Three stern officials from the Holy Tribunal, dressed in golden-trimmed robes, stand behind a cracked stone desk. Across from them, chained to a chair with scorch-proof runes, sits a disheveled man with tangled long hair, scuffed armor, and eyeliner smudged halfway down his cheekbones. Beside him: a busted guitar fused to a glowing amplifier with rope, twine, and maybe a shoelace stolen from destiny. The amp hums faintly, like it’s dreaming of violence.

Raiko stares at the ceiling, softly humming a melody that makes the torches flicker with dread.

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Interrogator 1 (stern):

> “State your name and your purpose, outsider.”

Raiko (grinning without fear):

> “Raiko. Metalhead. Slayer of riffs. Prophet of the power chord.”

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Interrogator 2 (confused but trying to look scary):

> “You stand accused of conjuring a forbidden sound... corrupting the tavern air... and performing a ritual of auditory terrorism called... quote... ‘The Blackened Screech of Saint Promeefius?’”

Raiko (offended):

> “It’s called ‘SATAN PROMETHEUS,’ and it’s a banger.”

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Interrogator 3 (eyebrow twitching):

> “You repeated that name twenty-three times over a demonic harmony. That’s very close to necromantic incantation law.”

Raiko (shrugging):

> “Honestly? I was just riffing. Most of it wasn’t even words.”

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Interrogator 2 (slowly):

> “You… freestyled a summoning chant in a forgotten dialect of demonic Latin?”

Raiko (thinking):

> “…Dang. That explains the smoke and the screaming furniture.”

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Silence. The interrogators glance at each other, visibly unnerved. The amp lets out a low, sinister wub.

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Raiko (suddenly cheerful):

> “Anyway, if you’re gonna execute me, I’ve got a request.”

Interrogator 1 (suspicious):

> “…What kind of request?”

Raiko (grinning):

> “Make it METAL.”

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Raiko (rising from the chair as far as the chains allow):

> “Hang me upside-down, let a thunder wyvern scream as you do it, stab me with flaming drumsticks, throw my ashes into a volcano shaped like a skull. That sort of thing.”

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Interrogator 3 (genuinely alarmed):

> “That’s… That’s horrifying.”

Raiko:

> “That’s showmanship.”

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Interrogator 2 (frustrated):

> “We just asked if you’re a cultist!”

Raiko:

> “I’m a solo artist.”

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They turn to the report scrolls.

Interrogator 1 (reading):

> “No confirmed casualties… only five citizens fainted, two ran screaming, one began what witnesses called a ‘violent interpretive dance battle with a table.’”

Interrogator 3:

> “And one chicken laid a boiled egg.”

Raiko (nodding):

> “Metal.”

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Outside the room, behind a two-way illusion mirror:

Yu-Riella munches honey nuts while leaning on a guard. Noona stands behind her, arms crossed, eyes locked on the man inside.

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Yu-Riella:

> “Sooo… that’s your husband?”

Noona (calm):

> “Yes.”

Yu-Riella:

> “You okay? Wanna cry? Roast him?”

Noona (flat):

> “No.”

Yu-Riella:

> “...Then what are you gonna do?”

Noona (quiet fire in her voice):

> “I’m going to bring him home.”

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Yu-Riella (muttering):

> “Wait, he triggered that clause? No bail until the Trial of Noise? Who even wrote that law?!”

Guard (whispering):

> “Temple of Harmonic Sanctity. Bunch of ex-bards with grudges.”

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[TO BE CONTINUED]

— Author’s Note —

If your music summons smoke, floating furniture, and boiling eggs… it’s not noise. It’s art.

Also, shoutout to interpretive dance battles. Underappreciated form of resistance.

– H. Behevras

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© 2025 H. Behevras | First published on Royal Road

Do not repost without permission.