MTL - Dressed As a White Lotus Female Partner and Female Protagonist - Chapter 24 blush (2)

I reincarnated as the wife of the cursed archduke in my own twisted novel.

As the author, I have a responsibility to fix this novel.

I have lifted the curse, which is the main problem of this story.

I thought my job was done. But when I was trying to go back, the archduke asked me, “Did you really think I wouldn’t know that you’re planning on returning to your fiance?”

‘My fiance?’

What I’m gonna do? He completely misunderstood the situation!

All I want is for him to please let me go home!

When crossing over to multiple books, Ren Shuhan found that every protagonist Shou was waiting for him to start chasing them in the crematorium.

“Don’t waste your time waiting,” He advised sincerely, “There are more 0s than 1s, so I’m not going to chase someone that is not interested.”

The protagonist Shou (sneering): Oh, there will be a day where you’ll lick the ground I walk on.

After waiting and waiting…

Ren Shuhan: “This is the wedding invitation for my childhood friend and I’s wedding.”

On the wedding night, Ren Shuhan removed the veil: “Baby, I’ve come to marry you.”

“Don’t you know that life is nothing but a play where you are the male lead and I am just a supporting character?”

“I know, but I don’t care.”

He was smiling, but Jiang Qingyue wept.

- Description from Novelupdates

A young boy, Asuma Haruto, is transferred to another world. Without having any means to return home, he has no choice but to live in this parallel universe.

Armed with only his knowledge of making soap, will Haruto be able to safely make a living here?

This is a story about how our protagonist creates his own business out of his hobby of making soap and then gradually manages his business and gets rich.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”