Fortunately, I met you in this life - Chapter 982

On the first day Yuna became a class teacher, she became well-known in school because of her looks. On the second day of becoming a class teacher, a student secretly took photos of her with his phone and was called to the principal’s office with his Guardian. The person who showed up turned out to be Yuna’s university crush, Xiao Chen.

To Yuna’s surprise, Xiao Chen was the elder brother of the very student whose class she manages. She also realized that this rebellious student causes trouble two or three days out of every week, indirectly giving them many chances to meet.

…

When they reunite again, Yuna is puzzled. Wasn’t Xiao Chen a poor young master in the past? How come he’s now driving luxury cars and living in mansions?

Xiao Chen is also puzzled. Wasn’t Yuna a rich daddy’s girl in the past? How come she’s now dressing plainly and squeezing onto public transport??

…

In the eyes of her students, Yuna is very beautiful but has always been diligent and thrifty, with little interest in money.

However, one day a Rolls Royce showed up outside school, waiting. Upon seeing Yuna, the chauffeur respectfully opened the door for her, “Miss Yuna, please get in.”

From that day forth, her true identity set off huge discussions in school.

After Amihan, politician by day and otaku by night, died from a political assassination, she got transmigrated as the saintess in another world. But she always felt like a fraud. Why? If she was the chosen one, why did she feel so rotten inside?Also, wasn't she atheist?However, her years of forced piety and suppressed desires ended in spectacular failure - her decapitation.Three days later, she woke to the sight of a worshiper bowing low. “Welcome back, O Sun Who Burns The World,” they said.'Wait. What? I'm not the Saintess? I was this all along?'Furious at the wasted years of celibacy, moral dilemmas, and suffocating oaths, Serafine made a vow: no more pretending. No more rules. The world? Hers to ruin. The people? Playthings.But wait. It was harder than she thought because...How in the name of the Goddess Aurelia was she supposed to have her debut when she was surrounded by a bunch of suspicious and crazy beautiful women who wants to hunt her down?!This was no different from her previous world!

After waking up in a world of magic, knighthood, and alchemy, Carlotta finds herself with an unexpected gift: an intelligence system that feeds her daily updates, secrets, rumors, and even hidden dangers unfolding around her.Yesterday’s intel was especially eventful.Mrs. Thea Ashfield, an eccentric alchemist, tossed away an old tool called the Rose Thorn late last night, left forgotten in a trash bin just south of the academy.Meanwhile, a new restaurant at No. 56 Fame Street is quickly becoming the talk of the town, fresh ingredients, great prices, and a steak that people are already calling legendary.Not all food fared as well though: most of the caramel bread in the academy cafeteria turned out to be leftovers from days ago. (Still edible, just… don’t expect miracles.)Teacher Estelle Marlowe pulled an all-nighter preparing the upcoming magic exam. Rumor has it the questions are no joke this time.Then came the serious alerts. One warned of a wanted criminal hiding in the Fame District, with a bounty of thirty thousand Orrae on their head.The other was more personal, Headmistress Viviana Richards’s lost dog was about to be shipped off by dog traders through the port.Thanks to Carlotta’s timely tip-off, the headmistress was able to rescue her beloved pet just in time.######Some Tags: Female Protagonist, Card Magic, System, Daily Intelligence, Genius Main Character, Focused Main Character, Academy, Intelligent Main Character####There's no plans for romance for now. In my outline I don't plan to add romance for main character but will see how it will develop

“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.