Rebirth As a Fatuous and Self-indulgent Ruler - Chapter 343 - It Depends on What the Empress Does (I)

A cursed CD game falls from the sky. I boot it up, build a ridiculously handsome villain with broken talents, and just as I hit “Start”—boom, I get electrocuted.Now I’ve reincarnated as Lucien Caelum Valebrandt, a six-year-old noble and the infamous villain who helped the Abyssians win the last war.Every 500 years, the Abyssian King is reborn. But when the 16 chosen heroes of this generation lost against the battle of the Abyssian King because of my character, the Goddess panicked—and rewound time.Now those same heroes remember everything… and they want me dead.Even though I just got here.All I wanted was to play a game. Now I’m the villain blamed for destroying the world.

“Ahhh! Elliot! Why? What are you—why? … Why?!”

Rose Honeywell, the beloved sister of Duke Honeywell, living her life as a rose nurtured in a greenhouse.

Everything changed on the day Elliot Proud, her fiancé, randomly attacks her brother at the year-end celebration, then chases her down and murders her.

“I can’t forgive you. I CAN’T FORGIVE YOU!”

In the last moments of her short life, gnashing her teeth while shedding bitter tears of regret, Rose returns a month before everything ends.

She won’t suffer like in the past!

As she fights to survive, His Majesty, her brother’s close friend, slowly finds his way into her heart.

But the secrets of her family surround her and tighten like a noose.

Will Rose be able to change her horrific future with a chance of happiness?

……………………………………………………………

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The narrative follows a gamer who, after selecting the “Awakened Cinder” class in the game Fractured Dawn, finds himself transported into the game's world. However, this version of the game is devoid of its usual interfaces—no UI, no tutorials, and no second chances. Each death strips away a part of his memories and identity, immersing him deeper into a perilous reality.The protagonist, now known as Riven, must navigate the treacherous Witherlands, confronting formidable foes like the Gravemare and Dreamborn Horrors, while uncovering the mysteries of Emberlight, Grace, and Cindershrines. His journey is one of survival, self-discovery, and challenging the very fabric of this fractured world.

“They Call Guys Like Me a Simp.”(Meanwhile, I’m out here living what their favorite MC only dreams about.)You ever notice how stories glorify the ones who feel nothing?The MC who never laughs.Never feels.Who plays women like chess pieces and calls it intelligence.He manipulates a girl? “He’s strategic.”He never opens up? “He’s mysterious.”He never flinches, never laughs, never lives —And you call that strength?Funny.Because to me?That’s just a prison in disguise.You see an “alpha.”I see a boy too scared to feel anything real.While they spend ten chapters monologuing about logic and sacrifice,I’m already making the Saintess scream,drenched in sin,halo cracked,legs trembling from truths her prayers never taught her.And I didn’t get there with cold eyes or control.I got there with laughter and chill. With warmth. With a grin and a hand on her thigh.I didn’t need to dominate her mind —I freed her heart.But that scares people, doesn’t it?Because readers trust the ones who suffer.Who stay quiet.Who kill without blinking and love without showing it.But me?I flirt.I laugh.I take hits and smile back, bloody and defiant, as if too weak to get angry.I don’t need to pretend emotions are weakness.I weaponize mine.Pleasure. Connection. Laughter.That’s my arsenal.And while your favorite MC is still calculating his next five moves,Trying to outwit death and romance like both are math problems,I’m already balls deep in the jade fairy — her sacred yin furnace clenching like it’s worshipping my shaft, her Dao Echo shattered into breathless moans, and her so-called cultivation path leaking down her thighs while she begs me to break her meridians again.You call that luck?Nah.That’s mastery of the three worlds.Because in a world that respects coldness,I came in hot.Where others manipulate, I connect.Where they posture, I play.Where they sacrifice, I seduce.So go ahead.Call me a simp.But while your genius MC is busy monologuing about destiny,I’m the one making goddesses question theirs —with a smirk, a touch, and no regrets.I’m not the hero.Not the villain.I’m just a simp… the kind who leaves your cold, emotionless MC’s woman dripping, ruined, and too stretched to go back to him.