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... She immediately lowered her gaze, unable to meet Nathan's sharp blue eyes.

The intimate moment they shared in that very own room kept on replaying in her mind. It seemed that Nathan's presence would always remind her of those moments. She couldn't get them out of her mind. The memories were still fresh and it was something that was hard to forget.

'Damn! This is so unfair. Am I the only one suffering here? But wait… I wonder if he could remember or not. I hope not!' Abigail bit ...

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“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

……………………………………………………………

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After a mental patient committed suicide, he was reborn in Tokyo? My brother is in Neon Lanyun?br> Then, the infinite space called him?

“Conquering the world and becoming the king of the world is just my part-time job. My life only exists to seek interesting things and things.”

“Well… at the moment when life dies, the desire for death and survival is intertwined. It’s really unstoppable!”

“Let me… let me… feel something more interesting!”

By the protagonist of being sick.

PS1:

Do you think this is a brainless and harem-covered anime doujinshi?

Do you think this is a novel that is fun to complain, has no morals, has no lower limit, and only sells cuteness and pretends to be stupid?

Do you think this is a dark and curious, bloody, tyrannical and inhumane killing movement?

Oh ho ho (sinister laugh), don’t be so simple.

PS2: “I don’t want to take medicine!” by the protagonist.

PS3: Newcomers and new books, ask for everything, recommend tickets, collections, rewards, etc.

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In the Heart’s Kingdom, a kingdom where vampires reign and humans were nothing but livestock, Lilou, a peasant, found herself being preyed upon by the worst maniacal vampire of his kind. However, as terrifying as what he addressed her as his ‘reserved meal’, this vampire also called her his bride!

Except:

My eyes brood with fear, gazing at the still-beating heart in his hand. “My Lord, pardon me but… is this the bloody proof you promised to show me?” I asked, my voice shook as I gulped down whilst struggling my trembling knees from giving away.

“Mhm… do you now believe I’m good at capturing hearts?” The silver-haired man, bearing those menacing pair of deep crimson eyes stared proudly at me after a nod. I gasped when he clenched his hand and squeezed the fresh heart to smithereen.

“Yes, milord. You’re good at it, literally.” I’m mortified, watching the pieces of the heart fall as he approached. His every step made me take a step back until my back reached a solid pillar.

“Huh,” Samael chuckled briefly, stopping in front of me. His long, pointy nails that were covered with blood traced my elbow down to my hand. Gently, he clipped my forefinger in between his, guiding it before his lips. “Did I pass your test, though?” He asked, the sharp tip of his nail played over the tip of my finger.

I stared at his penetrating gaze as I reluctantly answered, “Barely.”

He smirked, nodding in satisfaction before he pressed his nail on the tip of my forefinger that was quick to produce a drop of blood. “Such sweet aroma.” He whispered, placing my bleeding finger in his mouth and licked it with passion.

His menacing gaze never left mine as he consumed a bit of my blood. “Does that mean you’re accepting my invitation?” Keeping my finger in between his fangs, Samael inquired.

I bit my lower lip unconsciously, my heart within my chest drummed as my back broke into sweats. “But… I’m just…” I paused, hoping my answer would put an end to this. “… I’m just a human.”

Samael clicked his tongue, displeased at my response as he let my finger go. “No,” He whispered.

My entire body stiffened when he bent over, caressing my shoulder up to my neck by the apex of his nose, as his hot breaths prickled my skin.

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Zorian is a teenage mage of humble birth and slightly above-average skill, attending his third year of education at Cyoria’s magical academy.

He is a driven and irritable young man, consumed by a desire to ensure his own future and free himself of the influence of his family, whom he resents for favoring his brothers over him. Consequently, he has no time for pointless distractions or paying attention to other people’s problems.

As it happens, time is something he is about to get plenty of. On the eve of the Cyoria’s annual summer festival, he is killed and brought back to the beginning of the month, just before he was about to take a train to Cyoria.

Suddenly trapped in a time loop with no clear end or exit, Zorian will have to look both within and without to unravel the mystery before him. And he does have to unravel it, for the time loop hadn’t been made for his sake and dangers lurk everywhere…

Repetition is the mother of learning, but Zorian will have to first make sure he survives to try again — in a world of magic, even a time traveler isn’t safe from those who wish him ill.