Poison Genius Consort - Chapter 164: Poisoned, it has to be you

I killed the protagonist.Yeah. He was a real son of a bitch.Noah didn’t just stumble into this mess. He walked straight in—grinning, sword in hand.One day, he wakes up inside his favorite game… as a throwaway side character no one remembers. A complete nobody. But when he figures out who the so-called “main character” is?Some smug, self-righteous psycho.So yeah—he killed him. No regrets.Story over, right?Not exactly.Because this world? It’s got one more player.“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!?”Now the story’s off the rails, the world’s gone completely off-script, and Noah’s got a new goal:Steal the hero’s spot. Rewrite the plot. Find out who the hell this other player is. And maybe—just maybe—make this damn story fun for once.

In the fully immersive and realistic RPG online game [Illusory World], which has been in official public beta testing for its fourth year, Violet, one of the top players, experiences an unpredictable twist while participating in the conquest of a special dungeon. With her eyes closed and then opened, Violet finds herself no longer in the game world but in a completely new and unknown place, separated from the modern society behind it. Here, there is no doubt that it is the real world. Violet’s incredible adventure begins, but this world seems somewhat different from what she had expected. Enemy A: Why? You’re just a priestess, aren’t you!? Violet: Is there a problem between me being a priestess and me being able to beat you with a stick? Drop your loot and hand it over!

“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.

She killed his wife, destroyed his reputation, and ran off with his son. 8 years later, she returned home with her genius son, who already had a fiancée. “Give me the child, or you can’t afford the price.”“A girl who eats meat and vegetables doesn’t suffer, if you want a child, find yourself a woman to give you one.”