Chương 46: [That Time I had to Endure a Monologue About Market Psychology Because I'm Bad at Picking Up Women]

"Ah. Our all-powerful protagonist returns," The Dicter sneered as I threw open the door of our humble, secluded cottage in the middle of the woods filled with mason jars and fairy lights.

"Come. Take a seat by the fire. Tell me of your exploits in combat… and your victories in love."

"Uh."

"Is that hesitation I detect, my hopeless protege? Whatever would give you pause?" The Dicter sarcastically urged. I was getting the impression that maybe they already knew why I was hesitating, but it was hard to tell. For all their virtues, they weren't exactly an open book.

"I mean… how important is a harem really?" I asked as I hopped inside.

"I'm here for power and grinding and junk and I'm pretty much good on that front. Having people hanging on and stuff… it would be cool, but is it, like, essential…?"

"Now, that's a silly thing to ask. I thought you had maxed out your intelligence stat…?"

"Yeah but that's only for random facts and crap. It can't actually be reflected in the writing because the author was dropped a lot as a child."

"Of course, of course. A stupid author cannot make a smart protagonist, only a dumber world. So allow me to elevate the intellectual base of this wretched fiction and explain something to you in terms you will hopefully understand: the harem is non-optional. The harem is essential." The Dicster turned towards the fire, the light cast by the dull orange glow painting their face with a strikingly honest hue.

They looked rotten in the most literal sense: decayed by overexposure to the gnawing hand of father time, warping whatever had once been there to a slurry of mold, dust, and only the loose impression of whatever shape it might have been when unafflicted and fresh. It was a side of the Dicter I hadn't known before, because I didn't really pay that much attention to them. Were they always a talking dictionary with a stick-figure face? Geez that was probably something I should have narrated earlier.

"Do you know why you had to be a loveless, luckless loser for so many years to get your own narrator?"

"Because that's the trope?"

"It's a trope. The trope that's most easily available to you, my dear protagonist, so the only one you could have used." The Dicster turned so the shadow cast by the fire's absence would accent their serious expression.

"Exactly three types of people get Narrators, my fledgling. Losers, everyman, and the exceptional. Losers and everyman are basically two sides of the same coin: they are Isekai'd in order to experience the deeply cathartic and wildly unrealistic fantasy of having every aspect of their old reality reversed. An unremarkable fighter can suddenly slay dragons, a poor student finds themselves loaded with wealth, a powerless nobody can reshape empires and worlds with every step they take.

The only real difference between them is that losers have a more extreme swing, while everyman are lab-designed to be as plain and replaceable as possible so anyone can project onto them. It's a difference in taste, not execution. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Regardless of the flavor, the dish is the same. You were alone and loveless in your previous life, so now you must be surrounded by adoration and love. The work is not complete until you accomplish this vital step."

"But what if I just don't care?" I asked. Not because I didn't want a harem, but because I wanted to be a contrarian more.

"It doesn't matter if you don't care. It's going to happen anyway. It's as inevitable as the sunrise. You cannot subvert it because it is a tentpole of the genre. Foundational. You can dress it up and only have one lover, or slaves, or NPC's who are coded to love you, a village or a nation you lead, or a party of hangers-on who call you a friend even if you're a vending machine or a spider or a slime or any sort of non-sexual entity.

You could even be a rib or a door and still have the personal attention of an all-powerful goddess. I call it a harem because it is a convenient shorthand, but unwavering love and attention is the truth of it. It shall find you. The only question is if it's on your terms or not."

"But-""-'But why?'" The Dicter cut me off with a mocking tone.

"Oh, there are dozens of reasons and all of them are true. Catharsis, psychology, social expectations, marketing, sex appeal… but there's another reason that's rarely spoken of, and never advertised. And since you're such a good boy, I'll let you in on this little secret." The Dicster gestured to the narrator.

"The reason you're going to get a harem, my dear Protagonist, is because you are strong. It's because your numbers are high. And there exists a not-insubstantial amount of people who believe, deeply in their hearts, that strength means you deserve all the best things in life: opportunity, money, love. And it's these same people, the people who have never sampled the sweetest fruits in God's little garden, who blame their misfortune on their own weakness.

And they think if only they had power, if only they could quantify it and weaponize it, they could have more than what they lack, they could have an abundance of it. Exclusive rights to it.

"So they cling, little parasocial parasites, to those that they see as strong. Who have the things they always wanted in their most wretched and unworthy hearts. And not only do they defend their golden calves, they worship them. Because they cannot imagine a world where strength was not rewarded and not deserved. Because they hate their own weakness more than they love what meager scraps are on their plate. Because the only thing worse than being weak is being wrong."

The Dicster turned back to the fire, arms behind their back.

"And as any protagonist or author of any other litRPG can tell you — the only way you get stronger is to kill. So we craft our little stories and we give them their poison and we level ourselves up by feeding into their delusions and killing their souls. And we do it with a smile because everybody is happy. And you are happy. Aren't you happy?"

"... I was actually going to say 'but I already love myself unconditionally'. So. Aren't we good?"

"Not the kind of 'self love' our target audience is accustomed to I'm afraid. End the chapter. Tomorrow we're going to do a skit in the adventuring guild. We'll need to be extra funny to compensate for this ramble."

"I'll bring my clown wig:) honk honk yipee"