Open a Street Stall and Sell Vigorously - Chapter 7

For three years Calix suffered from the Backlash of his undecipher Term Attribute. As he couldn't use his unique power, he went through series of misfortunes which caused him to lose his self-esteem. However, one day, he was caught in an incident that led him to awaken his hidden power(luck).“The fuel of my Term Attribute is sexual practices with the opposite gender?”

I thought I had been abandoned,But I was actually the child that the Namgoong family had been searching for.It wasn’t until I was killed by the Blood Demon, whom I had called “teacher,” that I learned the truth. When I awoke again as a thirteen-year-old child, I decided to return to the Namgoong family.I didn’t seek to be recognized as family.I only wanted to prevent the Namgoong family from falling apart as it had before.“This is the jewelry, silk, gold bars, and elixirs that the family head has gifted to you.”“Here, little one. This is a congratulatory gift for your return.”As soon as I was recognized as the lost granddaughter of the Namgoong family,I gained delicious food, fine clothes, gold and silver treasures, and a high-quality sword!I also gained a grandfather and a father who cried and laughed for me.But what was that strange, tingling feeling in my chest every time that happened?In order to protect the smiles of those I had once killed,and to preserve this warm and ticklish sensation for as long as I could,I was determined to change the bloody future that awaited me, unlike my previous life…**Namgoong Mucheon’s face darkened.‘Is this child truly raised to be an assassin?’The sharp killing intent and the sword techniques essential for an assassin were reflected in her life, as if they were embedded in her very being.‘Damn brat.’Anger surged within Namgoong Mucheon.He restrained himself from cursing aloud in front of his granddaughter, muttering in his mind instead.‘How dare they raise my granddaughter as an assassin?’The blue energy surrounding Namgoong Mucheon grew even stronger.

She went out of the way to help him build a business empire and get his inheritance. When she thought they would live happily ever after, she and her entire family were quietly gotten rid of and burned to ashes. As the blaze seared her skin, she was overcome by deep hatred and bitter regret, and wished she had another chance…

Dizziness jolted her out of unconsciousness.

She is now known as Miss Su. She tried to run from her wedding, but slipped and fell in the river, which incidentally, brought great shame upon both her and her fiance’s family. The word on the street is that her fiance is a playboy, a make-out king, and a bit of a lady’s man. But she has to salvage this marriage to carry out her revenge plan.

And… the more she gets to know her future husband, the more she needs to find out. He turns out to be much deeper and more sophisticated than he cares to show to the outside world.

- Description from Novelupdates

“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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