Seoul Object Story - Chapter 287: Doll Fair (5)

“Wait... Where am I and... who am i?”Just after he thought he was successfully betrayed and killed by his most favored surbodinate. Taylor finds himself on the floor of a remote alley“Don't tell me I got reincarnated?” Hutton muttered with a look of disbelief on his face.P.S; Join the novel discord server for any announcements or questions and answers sections

When disaster strikes, all order collapses, money becomes meaningless paper, and discussions about order lose their significance. The only assurance that remains is power. And I, possessing power, can do as I please.In this post-apocalyptic world, besides growing stronger, Li Ming must also deal with the persistent neighbor who continually sends the wife to borrow food.“Ma'am, you can't always request food without offering anything in return, can you?”

Chu Jiao had always suffered from the quick changing nature of human relationships since little and had never tasted the feeling of being doted on. She was suddenly informed that her existence was only a few strokes of a pen in a novel. All her suffering was set by the author in order to make the male and female leads succeed.

She wasn’t willing nor could she accept the truth.

For vengeance, she bound herself to the “Supporting Female Carnal Desire System”. In order to survive and go back to the original world, she needed to kick down the female lead and take on the mission of catching the male lead and to clear the conditions, she needed——bo-body fluids?

Originally, she only planned to use her body without the intention of losing her heart but she never imagined that she would over and over again meet people that would carefully place her in the palm of their hand and spoiled her dearly.

They paid her with sincerity so she might as well return it with deep feelings.

Ultimately, she discovered that everything was actually love.

As the stars move and the time turns, you’ll like me no matter what I look like.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”