After divorcing my celebrity wife, I became the world's richest person - Chapter 454: The Small Town at the Foot of the Mountain

Axel, a struggling novelist, stumbles upon an otherworldly online writing tool promising an unprecedented level of realism for storytelling. Interested, he hurriedly signs up without reading into the terms and conditions. Ready to breathe life into his almost-finished novel, Axel excitedly imports his work into the platform shortly before drifting off to sleep.

To his surprise, Axel awakens as an unnamed character within the very world he once wrote. the website's terms concealed a mysterious clause, entwining his destiny with that of the novel he created.

chapter release per week: 7-12

Projection of chapters: 900 - 1000 chapters

Side stories if completed? - Maybe

(If you guys love reading the novel, All I can say is that gifting creates 2 more chapters + 2 scheduled chapters on release. ₍^. ̫.^₎)

Releases for chapters are scheduled at midnight AEDT time.

Discord Server Coming soon.

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Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

Louise Evardon's life takes a dark and twisted turn when she agrees to marry and discovers her husband's haunting past— all of his previous wives are dead.But that isn't what she has to worry about as someone is trying to get rid of her, and she needs to save herself before history repeats itself again.

Why, seems like I’ve become a haunted portrait.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.