MTL - Dressed As a Body Double Slag a and His Aunt - Chapter 58

He is the emperor of the business world. Rumor has it that he was fond of men and because of this, Song Wen Xin agreed to marry him.

After their marriage, he proved to her that he has the ability of a normal man!

“You are not allowed to hide when fulfilling the obligation of husband and wife. You are also not allowed to refuse the gifts that I send you. And, when you take the initiative to come to me… you are not allowed to stop!” He ordered her overbearingly.

Song Wen Xin immediately said: “In your dreams!”

He laughed enigmatically: “What a coincidence! I’m best at making a dream into a reality!”

He dotes on her, dotes on her with no bottom line at all…

- Description from Novelupdates

Meet Damon CrossAs a child, Damon Cross had to deal with the horrible realities of domestic violence and being homeless.He and his mother, who had always been there for him, struggled to find security.After losing his first backyard fight, When Damon gets a new MMA system, his luck changes dramatically.This mysterious system becomes his guide, improving his skills and raising him into the world of mixed martial arts.He learns more about mixed martial arts and gets better at it with the help of this system.With this renewed strength, Damon is determined to not only move up in the fight world, but also make a better future for both of them as a way to repay his mother for what she did.[YOU HAVE AWAKENED THE EMMAC SYSTEM][CONGRATULATIONS TO HOST FOR BECOMING A DOUBLE CHAMP]witness how Damon goes from a Bum to a Champ.Romance: YesFights: Yes

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

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To exist in a certain place, at a certain time—it's always either by chance, or by choice.But sometimes,There is a third force.One that doesn't ask.One that doesn't explain.It simply places you—wherever it wants.Arséne had always been dragged into places he never chose.Situations he never asked for.Realities he never belonged to.And when, at last, he decided to act on his own terms—To take the initiative,To move first,To choose…He simply died.