Later, He Became A Royal Healer - Chapter 119 - Making waves hei.

Park Geon-Woo is a professional bodyguard who leads the security team of one of the most well-respected congressmen in Korea, Kim Han-Gyo. However, after several twisted turns of fate, he is betrayed by the very man whom he respected the most.

As if fate would not stand for such a result, Geon-Woo is given an opportunity to return to the past to exact his revenge. But screw fate being on his side, he is not provided enough time to complete his return application form, resulting in him returning to the past in the body of a high school girl!

This is a gender bender story about a man who could be considered the epitome of manliness, turning into one of the most beautiful women in the country. He uses the new skill set that is forced onto him as best as he can to exact his revenge in a way that he had never expected to.

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In a surrogate marriage, she married a powerful man with leg disease. “I don’t want a woman with a bastard baby.” Originally she thought it was a trading marriage, but she lost her heart and wandered around,then she left sadly.

Years later, a little cute baby who looked exactly like him slapped Mo Shen on the head. “Bastard daddy, who are you calling me bastard baby?”

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.