MTL - Little Girlfriend - Chapter 57

“Here you go, this is your wage for the week.”After passing over a small pouch, the woman with her legs crossed behind the desk casually made a 'Check' in a notebook and then, without looking up, waved her hand to dismiss him and said:“Remember to file your taxes... Next!”“Wait a minute!”After pouring out the coins from the pouch and looking at the eight large and one small, totaling nine filthy coins in his palm, Leon couldn't help but widen his eyes in shock, almost wanting to pounce on her and fight to the death right there and then.“Damn it! I just repelled the evil god who was trying to erode the world this Tuesday! You bastard even wants to deduct the salary of the savior?”

Thanks to the so—called God, I somehow ended up as Uchiha Itachi’s younger brother and Sasuke’s twin.Wild, right?If I had to sum it up, I’d say, “Losing Shonen Jump is one thing, but losing your integrity? Now that’s a tragedy.”But let’s be real—none of that matters when you’ve got the Gojo System from the get-go. Yeah, you heard that right. From the moment I landed in this world, I was set to flex on the entire ninja world.And just like that, Konoha got itself a brand-new, utterly bizarre Uchiha.

Sophia Alcott, the daughter of Earl Alcott, lives a lonely life as a maligned and infamous shut in, with nothing to do but to work on her skills as a budding apothecary in the dusty storeroom she’s forced to call home.That is until she suddenly wakes up one day and finds herself in the body of an even more infamous villainess (one who actually earned her reputation) locked up in a tower.Although the only clue she has about how this happened is a cryptic note, instead of despairing about her new situation, she’s in awe at just how luxurious the treatment she’s receiving in this ‘prison’ is compared to how she had to live before.Meanwhile, back at Earl Alcott’s mansion, all hell is about to break loose.That’s because…

In a world of shallow-minded, materialistic mortals, what would one from humble beginnings – whose face had been stomped on, spat on, oppressed for the longest while by the arrogant, pampered upper echelons of society – do, when a mysterious application pops up on a brand new phone that was meant to be the birthday gift of an ungrateful girlfriend? What if the application takes the form of a chatroom where its occupants, bearing the names of mythical, fictional beings, start giving out ‘Red Packets’, all the while spouting nonsense?