Sold to a Prince! - Chapter 150 - Imprisoned Part3

Seojin transmigrated into the novel named ‘777: The Crowned Sovereign’ as Seven, a side character.Here, he was the seventh child of the seventh archduke of the seventh kingdom of the seventh continent.On Earth, he was raised by his seventh stepfather and the child of the seventh ex-wife of the seventh mayor. He even had his seventh maid quit the job.He was also the seventh reader of the novel he transmigrated into.[Welcome, Seventh Reader! Your loyalty has been awarded.]With this many sevens, will he curse it as an unlucky number or… praise it seventy seven times?…Note: The author is a complete newbie and this is the seventh draft. Please don't expect this as such a grand story.Thanks. Merci. Danke. Bedankt. Terima kasih. Gracias. Salamat.Congrats! You just learned how to say ‘thanks’ in seven languages! ;P

The devil would love you only in his own way: “Remember, don’t look at me, don’t hold me, and don’t kiss me! Turn your face away, as long as you lie down obediently and quietly! ” Just lie down obediently? What did he take her for? An inflatable wife?

- Description from Novelupdates

After her mother’s passing, Tabitha Collins’s father marries a new wife and sends Tabitha Collins to live with a family she barely knows. There, she meets Alexander Foster, the family’s high-flying Eldest Young Master, who wants nothing to do with her. Apart from him, however, the other members of the family loves her and dotes on her. Soon, things began to change. Alexander Foster becomes intrigued by the mysterious and seemingly untamable Tabitha Collins. Who is she exactly? Initially, the girl seems to lack confidence and needs protecting, but as he finds out more about her, he realizes, he's the one with the catching up to do!

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.”