Minute Mage: A Time-Traveling LitRPG - Chapter 221: The Dramatic Buildup

She, a modern hidden ghost leader of an organization which gathered insane prodigies proficient in the various differing skill-sets. Highly skilled in medicine and poison, executes covert assassinations, viewed as insane and demonic in the eyes of people of the world. Killed in an accident, and reborn into the body of a disfigured young girl.

What? Face disfigured, identity stolen? A return to the family dim and hopeless? Her identity can be given up, her family can be forgone, but as for the one who harmed her predecessor who inhabited this same body, if she didn’t at least make them scream in unimaginable agony and throw them into a state of wretchedness, how could she live up to her demonic reputation? Endless turmoil ensues and it’s a battle to dominate over all! See how she shook the world dressed in a suit of red, her sword up against the dominant powers that rocked the Heavens! Her name spread across the seas, shocking the earth!

- Description from Novelupdates

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.

She leaned down to look inside the well and sighed. Tucking back her hair behind her ear as the evening wind blew.

“I told you not to be a curious cat,“ she scolded looking at the well to receive a small “meow“ from it. Her cat had stepped on the edge of the well no matter how many times she placed it back on the ground and as expected it fell inside it,

“You know what I“m goin...