Deep Affection: Honey, Come Back To Me - Chapter 908 Good Friends

Shivam was just a normal guy.A government employee finally living a stable life after surviving an orphan’s hell and fighting tooth and nail through every damn obstacle life threw his way.He love anime, web novels, and his one true obsession light novels.His favorite?Transmigrated as a Third-Rate Villain.The plot? Fire.The fights? Insane.The worldbuilding? God-tier.And the characters? Untouchable—especially Marcus Ardent and Daelen Vorcrest, the last heroes of mankind.But then came the final chapter.Marcus dead. Daelen gone. The entire continent, erased with a single, lazy keystroke.“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!”“What kind of brain-dead garbage ending is this?! You killed everyone for shock value! You threw away the best characters like trash!”Shivam didn’t just hate-comment the author. He cursed them.Then went to sleep.And woke up as Ezra Celestrian.The most forgettable side character in the novel.A man who was supposed to be dead.Only… something’s wrong.Ezra isn’t weak.He never was.He was the strongest human side character in the novel—so talented, the author killed him early to keep the power scaling in check.But now Shivam is him.And the story is no longer in the author’s hands.“Why the hell do I keep talking like a noble?”“What the fuck is this ‘Divine Enemy’ trait!?”The world believes Ezra is dead.But Shivam’s done playing along.“You dragged me into your broken story. You killed my favorite characters. You erased everything I loved for a cheap twist.”“Fine. I’ll fix your mess. I’ll rewrite your story.”“And when I find you, ‘Author’—I swear to god, I’m gonna shove that ending down your throat.”

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”