Days as a Spiritual Mentor in American Comics - Chapter 4549 - 3631: Edge of Tomorrow (40)

In her previous life, she wrongly loved a scumbag, but was killed by him. Once reborn, she vowed to let him be forever.

On the day of the wedding, the director got married by mistake as soon as she got out of the sedan chair, but she didn’t want to leave the wolf’s den and enter the tiger’s den again.

“If you enter this king’s door, you will belong to this king.” He swore domineeringly, declaring his ownership of her.

“Concubine Ai, this king has no children yet, so the important task of inheriting the lineage can be left to you.” She bet on her innocence, he helped her to avenge her, and each got the good deal they needed, but in the end, it turned out to be a fake.

Do, make it real?

- Description from novelbuddy

Perfectly average.

That’s how I would describe myself.

I spent most of my life being just that.

Average test scores with mostly C’s and B’s, average athletic abilities, average appearance, average social life, and average family background.

I wanted to be different, that's why I decided to be a pornstar.

dunno but somehow I awakened the ultimate pornstar system-

will I really be able to become the greatest pornstar?

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.