Under neon rain, “i was reincarnated as a slime porn” follows a woman stripping out of a soaked dress in her high-rise window. City lights reflect off wet skin as “i was reincarnated as a slime porn” watches her press palms to glass, ass arched toward the camera. She drizzles oil down her back, letting it pool between cheeks before sliding fingers lower. “i was reincarnated as a slime porn” zooms on her reflection—eyes half-lidded, mouth open—as she rides her own hand against the skyline. The storm outside mirrors the one building inside; “i was reincarnated as a slime porn” catches her knees buckling when she comes, city oblivious to the show only “i was reincarnated as a slime porn” owns.