Love Slave to the Mafia Boss's Passion - Chapter 412: Proud Achievements

Will, a seasoned game designer, found himself reincarnated as the disposable villain in a cliché “kicked out of the party” novel. Faced with his inevitable tragic fate, he had one ambitious dream: to turn the pitiful “losers” from the protagonist’s harem into terrifying blackened bosses who would torment the protagonist!He taught the timid and cowardly wolf-girl maid to imprison the one she loves forever by her side.He trained the tsundere, sharp-tongued loli witch to make her beloved see only her in his eyes.He guided the cold and clueless half-elf princess to use…—

This novel is also known as Daughter of the Male Protagonist

As luck would have it, Luo Shuyan unintentionally found out that she’s a character from a male protagonist novel, and she happened to be the only child of the male protagonist.

The male protagonist had intimate encounters with countless women. He rose from being one of the poorest to one of the richest in the entire kingdom. He was a man that was above all others.

Well known to all, his only weakness was his dear daughter, who had sadly passed away early on in life. Even the female protagonist, who was placed at the pinnacle of his heart, didn’t dare to mention the name of his daughter.

Luo Shuyan, who was destined to die early, was perplexed with the setting of the story.

Additionally, she found out an even more intriguing fact — The mother and son duo who lived next door to her was the heroine and son from the novel, “Child Prodigy: Story of a Delicate Mama Fleeing with Her Child”.

#A story where the male protagonist is my father. Plus, an unbelievably cliche side-story of my childhood best friend’s mother who ran away from home#

#A melting pot of stereotypical plot points between male-centered and female-centered novels#

#Sigh, what on earth is happening?#

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.

1 drop of blood = 1-Up

Other people game overnight, I game overnight and bleed.

Ever since the dimensional storms descended upon Earth, numerous dimensional zones have appeared, bringing with them all kinds of dimensional creatures—Immortals, Buddhas, Devils, Angels, Elves, etc.

Yet, all these strange dimensional zones can turn into dungeon instances on my phone. Other people risk their lives adventuring, I spend all my time gaming.

Monsters drop dimensional crystals that boost stats, imbue new skills, and join me as Companion Beasts. These Companion Beasts fight alongside me or alone, augmenting me with their skills and strength. Rare monsters in real life? I’ll just restart the game with a drop of blood to grind it.

I really need a blood transfusion.