Is There A Sequel Planned For 'King Of Envy'?

I’ve read my fair share of envy-themed novels, but 'King of Envy' stands out like a neon sign in a library. Most stories paint envy as this one-note villain, a green-eyed monster that just makes people petty or destructive. But 'King of Envy'? It digs deeper, turning envy into something almost poetic. The protagonist isn’t just jealous—they’re obsessed, and that obsession fuels a metamorphosis. It’s not about tearing others down; it’s about climbing so high that the envy becomes a crown. The way the author twists envy into ambition is chilling and weirdly inspiring. You’d think it’d be exhausting, but the pacing is so sharp that you’re glued to every page, waiting to see how far they’ll go. What really sets it apart is the emotional granularity. Other novels might shorthand envy with clichés—stolen lovers, sabotaged careers—but here, it’s the little things that sting. The way the protagonist notices how someone’s laughter is just a half-second quicker than theirs, or how their rival’s handwriting loops more elegantly. It’s these tiny, razor-sharp details that make the envy feel alive, not just a plot device. And the prose? Gorgeous. It’s like the author dipped their pen in liquid spite and wrote with it. The descriptions of envy’s physical toll—the clenched jaw, the sleepless nights—are so visceral you can almost taste the bitterness. Plus, the side characters aren’t just props; they react to the protagonist’s spiral in ways that feel human, not just convenient. Some pity them, others recoil, and a few even weaponize it. It’s messy and real, and that’s what makes it unforgettable. The ending is a masterstroke. Without spoiling, let’s just say it doesn’t cop out with redemption or damnation. It’s ambiguous in the best way, leaving you to wrestle with whether envy was the protagonist’s poison or their propulsion. Most envy novels tie things up with a moral bow, but 'King of Envy' leaves the wound open. And that’s why it lingers. You’ll finish it and catch yourself side-eyeing your own reflections, wondering if you’ve got a crown of envy too. It’s not just a story; it’s a mirror held up to your ugliest what-ifs. That’s rare. Most envy stories fade. This one sticks like a splinter.

Yes, indeed, Emilia is the Witch of Envy, well, at least in a sense. She is often mistaken for Satella who is the actual Witch of Envy because of their uncanny resemblance in the 'Re:Zero' universe. For those who are new to the series, it can be a bit confusing. To clarify, Emilia herself is not the Witch of Envy, but she does bear a striking resemblance to her which stirs up quite a bit of controversy and intrigue in the series. It's one of the elements that makes 'Re:Zero' compelling.

The protagonist in 'Envy' is Yuri, a seemingly ordinary guy who becomes the center of envy because of his uncanny luck and charm. He doesn’t strive for attention, yet success follows him effortlessly—promotions land in his lap, people adore him without reason, and even disasters turn into wins. His coworkers hate how he makes excellence look accidental. The irony? Yuri hates it too. He sees the isolation his 'gift' creates, how friendships sour when others assume he’s gloating. The novel digs into that tension: being envied isn’t power; it’s a cage where every achievement gets twisted into a reason for resentment.

I've read tons of jealousy-themed novels, and 'Envy' stands out by making the emotion feel like a living character. Most stories treat jealousy as a simple motivator for revenge or drama, but this book dissects it with surgical precision. The protagonist's envy isn't just about wanting what others have—it's about the terrifying self-awareness that comes with recognizing your own inadequacies. The writing captures how jealousy mutates over time, starting as a nagging itch and growing into a corrosive force that warps relationships. Unlike typical 'jealous villain' tropes, 'Envy' shows how even good people can be consumed by it, making their downfall heartbreaking rather than satisfying. The novel also explores jealousy's physical toll—sleepless nights, stomach-churning anxiety, and that constant buzz of irrational anger. It's raw in a way most books about the emotion aren't willing to be.

The twist in 'Envy' isn't just a plot device—it's a gut punch that reshapes everything. About halfway through, the protagonist discovers their lifelong rival isn't the villain but a pawn in a much larger game. This reveal flips the power dynamics completely, turning what seemed like a straightforward revenge story into a complex web of manipulation. The real antagonist emerges from the shadows, someone who'd been pulling strings since childhood. What makes this twist hit harder is how it recontextualizes earlier scenes—suddenly, those 'random' acts of kindness from side characters take on sinister meanings. The author plays with perception masterfully, making you question every interaction before and after the reveal.

I've scoured every source I could find about 'Envy', and it seems to stand alone for now. The author hasn't announced any sequels or spin-offs, which is surprising given how rich the world-building is. There's enough material in the original novel to spawn an entire series - the complex hierarchy of demons, the hidden societies of humans who bargain with them, and especially that ambiguous ending that left room for continuation. While waiting for official news, I'd recommend checking out 'The Demon's Debt' if you enjoyed 'Envy's theme of supernatural bargains. It explores similar concepts with even darker twists and has two companion novels set in the same universe.

I just finished 'Envy' and wow, the way it handles jealousy is brutal and real. The protagonist's descent isn't dramatic—it's slow, like watching ice melt. Small things first: noticing how his colleague's laugh gets more attention, how her promotions come faster. Then it festers. The book doesn't paint envy as some grand villain; it's the thousand papercuts of comparison that bleed you dry. What stuck with me was the physicality of it—his stomach twisting when she succeeds, the way her name in meetings makes his jaw clench. The genius is in showing how jealousy isn't about wanting what others have, but hating that they have it instead of you.

The core conflict in 'Envy' revolves around toxic competition and psychological warfare between two former friends turned rivals. At its heart, it's about how unchecked ambition can poison relationships. The protagonist starts as an admirer of his brilliant friend, but as their careers diverge, admiration curdles into obsession. The friend's success becomes a mirror showing everything the protagonist lacks, fueling increasingly destructive behavior. What makes this gripping is how ordinary the catalyst is—a petty workplace dispute spirals into something monstrous. The real tension comes from watching someone convince themselves envy is justified, then seeing how far they'll go to 'even the score.' It's less about external battles and more about the war inside someone's mind as envy consumes them.