MTL - Harry Potter and the Rise of the Ordinary Person - Chapter 89

Elizabeth, a girl with an unusual personality is reincarnated into the body of a mute woman in what appeared to be medieval times. However, the people surrounding her seemed familiar. She had transmigrated as the dead villainess's older sister in a +19-rated novel she read long ago in her past life.Marianne, the previous owner of the body, had a tragic past. Abused by his obsessed older brother and little sister, the part of her soul left in the body doesn't give Elizabeth freedom.Now she will discover the truth behind Marianne's condition, experience unknown feelings, and recall her past to overcome these new difficulties.'I'm gonna go crazy...how is it that this girl didn't even have her name mentioned in the novel?... some authors really are idiots...'_________________________________Give some love to my other book too ^^~• Barbaric Spouse, Descry the Night's Lure* To find my book you have to either search the title or my pen name. It will not show on my profile._________________________________TAGS:#R18 #SlowPaced, #Romance, #Smut, #Medieval, #Trauma, #Father&Daughter...(Sigh... so many tags... do emphasise #SlowPaced ^^)_________________________________This is an original Story ^^Author: XimenoideX

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.”

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.

A smug smile appeared on her step sister's lips when she finally revealed she was actually pregnant with her mate's child.Her father's futile attempt to apologize, for ignoring her all this time, because he had his own reasons and asked her to understand.A plea of forgiveness from her mate as he begged her not to reject him, claiming it was just a stupid mistake that he shouldn't have made.And to top it off, a cursed alpha from the north, to whom her step sister was actually promised, is here to collect his debt, so she has to take her place as the sacrifice now.Darn!