Lackey's Seducing Survival Odyssey - Chapter 16: A.L.F.R.E.D!

Well-known Composer Fang Zhao was in the glorious stage of his career, when the Apocalypse arrived; After finally experiencing the bitter difficulties of a thousand dangers, when the Apocalypse was simmering down to an end, he collapsed; When he opened his eyes, he was reborn in a New World, 500 years after the end of the apocalypse, in the body of a student who had been dumped barely after graduation, who had been cheated of his hardwork barely after he started working…

The World of the Future, Virtual Idols PK Real Idols

“Every time background music plays in my head, I feel like there is nothing to be afraid of.” —Fang Zhao

Toward the end of the apocalyptic period, Fang Zhao lost his life. However, instead of dying, he found himself 500 years later in the body of a young and aspiring composer who shared the same name. Having received a second chance at life, Fang Zhao sets out to achieve the previous owner’s dreams.

Armed with the experience of living through an apocalyptic age and his profession as a composer before that period, Fang Zhao uses his talent, wits, and knowledge to make his mark in the entertainment industry of the future.

- Description from Novelupdates

Hyde arrives in a doomed world with nothing but his body and fragmented knowledge of the future from a game he once played. He has no grand ambition—why try to save a world already destined to fall? Survival is enough.That is, until he discovers his sister is also transported into that world.However, only he hears the Melody of Nightingale and receives the power to survive.[You have established a connection with The Forgotten Hollow.]Awakening as a Resonant—an elite group with supernatural abilities—he is thrust into a conflict between two worlds. Armed with the authority of space and time, he vows to protect his powerless sister at all cost, even if he has to fight against the Mirage creatures, other Resonants, or even Gods themselves.

My name was Yuan Junyao, a name my grandmother gave me, meaning “beautiful jade”, although I was not beautiful at all. Actually I was ugly.

I was told that I grew tumours on my face since I wasn’t even 3 months old. My parents had me examined in hospital and the doctor said it was a fibroma and it was benign. It couldn’t kill me but I couldn’t get rid of it because if I did, it may develop to be fatal. My father divorced my mother for this, and not long after, my mother died.

To make a living, I had to do three jobs.

One day I messed with the wrong people and they had my younger brother have a car accident and become a vegetable, and I also lost all my jobs because of it.

I tried to find a new job and happened to know about live streaming. I clicked on it and a man was live streaming in an old ghost-haunted house. The ambience was terrifying.

I followed him online and he didn’t see a real ghost even by the end of the stream. But the ambience was so real it spooked the audience. So he had many watchers who sent him lots of gifts while they watched. I was a little inspired by the idea. Nobody wanted to see the face of the host of a ghost live streaming, which suited me very well…

- Description from Novelupdates

“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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