PREVIEW

... ss to classified data about others.

It was James who reposted the news in the group chat of the Beggars' Sect.

Nina and James were playing with their phones on the sofa while John was busy with his work in his office. Seeing the news, the two of them were stunned.

It took them a while to get back to their senses. After that, James sprang onto his feet, and with wide eyes, called John's attention. "Uncle John! Uncle John! Your assistant is Howard's son!"

But John a ...

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Delia's life was a cruel reality: the neglected and abused illegitimate daughter of a noble family, the Ellington family, she yearned for the love of her stepmother, Baroness Augusta, and younger sister, Lady Anne, who relentlessly mistreated her.Her world crumbled when she discovered a double betrayal: her beloved husband, Lord George had secretly pined for Anne, marrying Delia only to be near her sister. Simultaneously, her step mother framed her for a crime Anne committed.Overwhelmed and heartbroken, Delia's attempt to escape a death sentence led to a fatal carriage accident.But death was not the end. Delia awoke one year in the past, finding herself still engaged to George. This was her second chance, and the naive girl was gone, replaced by a woman consumed by a burning desire for revenge. Her first target: Duke Eric Carson, the powerful and wealthy man her sister Anne desperately pursued.Delia boldly approached Eric with a proposition for a contract marriage. To her surprise, Eric agreed, but with a condition: their fake marriage would become real and they can go their separate way after a year, hiding his own secret agenda. Now, armed with Eric's unexpected devotion and his willingness to lay down his life for her, Delia meticulously begins to dismantle her family's world. With Eric's help, she exposes the secrets they hide, manipulates their desires, and turns them against each other, orchestrating George’s demotion, Anne's downfall and seizing everything her sister coveted, including Duke Eric love and obsession.Will Delia and Eric be able to conquer all odds to get what they want? What happens when Eric doesn’t want their contract marriage to end? What happens when the last petal of that indicates her second chance falls?———————EXCPRET“I can’t return your feelings, your grace,” Delia whispered, her back against the cool wall.“But I can,” Eric murmured, stepping closer.Delia’s voice trembled. “It’s not the same.” She choked out. “ No one can love me without hurting me.”“Then teach me,” he said, his breath warm on her cheek. “Teach me how to love you the way you deserve to be loved. I’m a quick study.”When she stayed silent, he sighed contentedly, a soft smile playing on his lips.“It’s alright. Just… use me. Anything you need. if you want money, ask the treasury, take as much money that’s needed. if you want power, use my name. if you want security and love, use my body.”His breath warmed her skin, his chest rose and fell with hers. “As long as it's from you, I'm happy.”

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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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