MTL - The Secret of the Seal - Chapter 2342 To be more bully?

With the marriage of her prostitute mother to the Count, Aria’s status in society skyrocketed immediately. After leading a life of luxury, Aria unfairly meets death because of her sister Mielle’s schemes. And right before she dies, she sees an hourglass fall as if it were a fantasy. And just like that, she was miraculously brought back to the past.

When Li Shen’s second personality acts out, her consciousness is sent to a strange place called Split Zone No.13. She is then informed that she can only return home after unraveling the truth.

On the first day Yuna became a class teacher, she became well-known in school because of her looks. On the second day of becoming a class teacher, a student secretly took photos of her with his phone and was called to the principal’s office with his Guardian. The person who showed up turned out to be Yuna’s university crush, Xiao Chen.

To Yuna’s surprise, Xiao Chen was the elder brother of the very student whose class she manages. She also realized that this rebellious student causes trouble two or three days out of every week, indirectly giving them many chances to meet.

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When they reunite again, Yuna is puzzled. Wasn’t Xiao Chen a poor young master in the past? How come he’s now driving luxury cars and living in mansions?

Xiao Chen is also puzzled. Wasn’t Yuna a rich daddy’s girl in the past? How come she’s now dressing plainly and squeezing onto public transport??

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In the eyes of her students, Yuna is very beautiful but has always been diligent and thrifty, with little interest in money.

However, one day a Rolls Royce showed up outside school, waiting. Upon seeing Yuna, the chauffeur respectfully opened the door for her, “Miss Yuna, please get in.”

From that day forth, her true identity set off huge discussions in school.

“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.