Civil Servant in Romance Fantasy - Chapter 94: - A Civil Servant Has No Vacations (1)

“Congratulations, you're now a Handler. You'll serve the state with utmost loyalty and pledge your life to its causes.”That was what Trent heard just before being handed an envelope—and a whole lot of disrespect.Mocked for his poor combat performance and labeled pathetic by his superiors, Trent finishes Handler training humiliated and underestimated. But they made one mistake: they judged him by his strength, not his mind.What Trent lacks in brute force, he makes up for with a rare genius in finance.So when a mysterious voice speaks to him in the bathroom—“Hello, Host. This is Ave-511e69.”His world flips upside down.Now equipped with Ave, a mysterious financial system that seems to know everything, Trent is about to rise through the ranks in a way no Handler ever has.Through stock markets, black-market missions, and calculated chaos, he will prove that money is the greatest weapon of all.They looked down on him. Now, they’ll look up in fear.

In this lifetime and every other, I promise to only be loyal to you. Even if I have to crawl back from Hell, I will do so gladly. Wow, you just broke all the cold CEO fantasies.

Like every romance novel, Yun Qian Meng faced the evil stepmother and negligent father. On top of that, she was arranged to marry a scum man who manipulated her, stole from her, and finally... killed her.

When she woke up, she found herself back at the top of the world. It was all a dream, she told herself and moved on... until the scum fiancé made an appearance.

Who was she? Yun Qian Meng. Twenty-five. Founder and CEO of a company worth billions of dollars. The world was at her feet. How dare this scum man think he was worth her?

“My fiancé wants to usurp my company? I’ll bury him alive.”

“My father wants to marry me off for his gain? I’ll find a husband he will never approve of.”

“Of course... He needs to meet my conditions first.”

Who would have known that her arch-nemesis, Mo Qingchen, would present himself in front of her as a potential suitor.

“Lunatic! I wouldn’t marry him even if he were the last man on Earth!”

Ants surrounded Mo Qingchen. He was twice as powerful as her. Twice as wealthy. And the conditions he was offering were top notch. He'd lit the fire and she swarmed to him like a moth to a flame.

“Well, a contract marriage never hurt anyone.”

She was looking for financial and social gain but she ended up on a path to finding herself and things she never knew she wanted.

The curtain rose. Shots were fired. The play began. The broken girl started her journey towards the woman she was destined to be.

All the world’s a stage. And a play is only entertaining when chaos ensues.

“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.

...[Inside an underground basement]“You are going to die for nothing, hahahaha,” the old man's voice thundered through the room, sending chills down my spine.Step.With a swift and ruthless motion, he lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air and slashing my throat, crimson droplets staining the darkness.“We'll see,” I whispered defiantly, my final words escaping as a mere breath against the impending darkness.Slowly, inexorably, my consciousness slipped away, and I descended into a deep, unfathomable slumber.“Huh!?” My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself seated in a bustling tavern, the air thick with laughter and the clinking of glasses.In front of me stood a captivating lady, her beauty juxtaposed with an angry furrow upon her brow, threatening to shatter the harmony of the jovial scene.“Don't follow me around!” Her words pierced the air like shards of ice, the intensity of her emotions palpable as she cast a resentful glare in my direction, before swiftly departing from the tavern....Am I trapped within the confines of a game? The fragments of my shattered common sense scattered before me, leaving me to question the very fabric of my reality.