How can I justify myself as a Magnate if I don't indulge myself? - Chapter 570 - 262: The Officially Recognized Richest Person

A princess's duty is to be beautiful, quiet, not loud, to be seen and not to be heard, which was how Dahlia lived most of her life. Bound by the expectations of her title, she spent years trying to prove to her father that she was more than just a princess and capable of being more than an ornament in his court but each time she never got the chance. Instead, she was forced into a marriage of convenience with the bravest knight in all the kingdom, Reagan Hawthorne.Dahlia thought she would use this marriage to escape the brutal crutches of her father and glide out of her cage but Reagan’s cold disdain was an unexpected prison of its own. While he waged wars on distant lands, she stayed behind, holding his household together and protecting the people he seemed to ignore. But Dahlia carried a dangerous secret. By day, she was the perfect wife. By night, she became the “Black Knight,” a masked vigilante fighting for justice in the shadows.Reagan returned, ready to focus on his personal mission: avenging his father’s death. To him, Dahlia was just another pawn in his plans—a spoiled princess he needed to tolerate. But as cracks began to form in her perfect façade, Reagan couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his wife than met the eye.Now, with enemies circling closer and their secrets threatening to collide, Dahlia and Reagan must confront the lies they’ve told themselves and each other. But when masks fall and truths are revealed, will their fragile bond withstand the storm—or will it shatter beyond repair?One wound. One secret. One night that changes everything.

If life could repeat itself, what would you do?Would you repeat your first life and stay a normal average joe? Perhaps your gaze will betray the life you’ve already lived, but you remain insignificant and unknown, stretching your neck up high to watch the furling clouds roll by?Or will you make the world your stage, stir up every cloud and wind under all the heavens, making the entire world your captive audience as you dance, making people’s hearts pound with your every move?Composing my own laws, establishing the order I desire…a human life is a measly ten decades, so why don’t I light the candle that is my life and set this world ablaze!!

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.

I’m telling you, acting is really just a hobby. Not the VTuber part.