Limits - Chapter 80: Silver Bear

I became a wizard of the Illusion Magic School and decided to create a virtual reality with illusion magic to play a tabletop role-playing game (TRPG).It was great to create a virtual reality, but I was in trouble because there were no suitable players. During that time, I received an offer to be the professor from the Royal Academy.The offer was to use illusion magic to fill the students’ lack of practical experience safely. And so, I became a professor at the academy.“Send me back, send me back to that world right now-!”“Outer god, someday an outer god will be our doom, we’ll all die!!”“I am not the bastard of the Redburn Ducal Family. I am the foremost disciple of the Great Namgung Clan, Namgung Qinghui!”But it seems there is a bit of a misunderstanding.This isn’t a spell for dimensional travel, kids. It’s fiction…

The strangest fate, the most exciting mind games, the cruelest survival battle, the craziest fantasy, the most bizarre truth… The first is here to battle for another ten years!

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I am a princess, moreover, I am a fool of a princess.

Born in the imperial palace, my appearance is as average as that of the white radish and cabbages in the fields. Throughout the four seasons of the year, my face is always displaying a dull expression, eyes forever shrouded in haze.

But in reality, I know of the secrets within this palace.

Including hers, his, and theirs.

Just leisurely living my days comfortably in the palace like this, I firmly believe I can continue to play dumb to the end.

Taking your hand, dragging you away. Not leaving you say? Very well, close the doors and release the hounds. (Expressionless face)

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.”