Minute Mage: A Time-Traveling LitRPG - Chapter 12: Decisions

#Married #Office RomanceJerica Evans, a devoted wife and clerk at City Hall, feels her world slowly unraveling as the cracks in her once-loving marriage deepen. Her husband, Jared, a high-powered lawyer with a fierce courtroom reputation known as “The Siberian Beast,” has grown distant, and his cold demeanor leaves Jerica questioning everything. Once the pillar of her life, Jared now feels like a stranger, more lighthouse than man—steady but unreachable, leaving Jerica adrift in loneliness and suspicion.When she catches him leaving work early with a mysterious woman in a red dress, her world shatters. As she balances her growing suspicion with the suspicious arrival of Harold Braddock, Jerica's former flame, the lines between loyalty, betrayal, and her own desires blur. Her once steady life spirals as her husband’s frosty demeanor and her own emotional wounds collide.As the emotional distance between her and Jared widens, Jerica must decide whether to fight for a love that seems to have slipped away—or walk away from the man who once completed her.What will she decide? What is Jared's secret? Was their marriage truly over? Has she truly stopped loving him?This is a heartstring-pulling journey of love, pride, and the devastating cost of hidden truths and unspoken desires, where one woman must decide if she’ll fight for the man she married or leave him behind to save herself.Please support the book by voting. Leave reviews and tell me what you feel in the comments.

“My daughter will kill me.”A poor man, exhausted and overwhelmed by debt, dies and finds himself in his favorite novel as Arzoth Draven—the character he despised the most. Arzoth Draven is the infamous prince who constantly tries to undermine his brother, Evren Draven, the story's main protagonist. He abandoned his illegitimate daughter in a basement, only to be killed by her years later. Now, having transmigrated into the role of Arzoth Draven, can he avoid this grim fate? And on top of that, he also possesses a system.

He died doing what he loved—on the basketball court, surrounded by cheers, chasing a dream that never came true.But fate—or perhaps the Basketball God—gave him one more shot.When Dirgantara Renji, a washed-out benchwarmer with a decade of struggle behind him, suddenly wakes up as his 15-year-old self, he’s confused, overwhelmed... and determined. This isn’t just a second chance at life—it’s a second chance at the dream he refused to let die.Now in 2009, armed with a mysterious System, years of experience, and a deep hunger to prove himself, Dirga is ready to carve a new path. But this time, things are different. New faces. New choices. And hidden talents he never met in his past life.Will he finally rise from the shadows to become the basketball legend he was meant to be?

“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.