MTL - After Getting Engaged To Mr. Shen - Chapter 673 How about our cooperation? (two)

Waking up from a nightmare several hours before dawn, Belle fetched a drink of water.

She paused in front of her kitchen’s window when she noticed a lit lantern in front of her mansion’s garden. Her butler stood there, shovel in hand. This was no hour to be gardening.

Curious, she made her way outside, but when she had gotten close enough to see a large and hollow pit next to her eternally-stoic and polite butler, she saw him pick up a rotten body.

A DEAD BODY!

Her eyes widened fearfully when she saw her handsome butler drop the rotting body into the fresh hole. She asked in horror, ”What are you doing?!“

Surprised to see his young miss awake at this hour, he stared at her with the same expression he had been keeping up for all these years. He had made sure she was asleep before coming here.

“Gardening.”

“And the body?!”she looked at him in disbelief.

“Fertilizer,” he answered her before picking up the shovel that was on the ground. Belle was now certain something had possessed her butler. Who gardened dead bodies?!

She then heard him ask her, “Want to help me in planting it, Miss Adams?” he gave her a sweet smile.

Note: If you enjoy a book of comedy with light-hearted romance and a gothic background. This book is for you~

Originally born from a wealthy family, she ends up leading a vagrant life for fifteen years. However, when she is eventually found by her family, she falls into another devious plot and eventually dies tragically.

Fifteen years after her rebirth, ravenously raging for revenge, she tears down the hypocritical mask of the foster daughter who had taken her place, and reduces her greedy stepmother and stepsister back to their original sorry states.

To the jerk’s profession of his deep love for her, she only has one thing to say, “Get the hell out of my life. The love you speak of humiliates love!”

Regardless of the appearances of you monsters, I’ll take in it my stride with my capability, building a business dynasty of my own, sitting in the depths of my riches, bathing in the glistening limelight of the world.

A certain rich empire’s CEO: “Don’t mind me. I’m just leaving my mark here to declaring my possession rights; I’ll wait patiently for you to grow up!” The queen’s mighty return with commercial warfare fully within her grasp, she navigates the power struggles with skill and verve. When it comes to scheming conspiracies, all she has to say is, “Who are you again? Don’t even bother!”

- Description from Novelupdates

A 34-year-old NEET otaku, chased out from his house by his family, found that his life is reaching a dead end. He then recalled that his life could actually have been much better if he had made better choices in the past.

“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.