Spiritual Recovery: Gamification of Reality - Chapter 141 - : The Furious Empress

The world I transmigrated into was a dark fantasy game universe, devoid of hope or dreams.Doesn’t feel like it at all, though.

The Heavenly Demon, Baek Jung-hyuk, woke up as the eldest son of the Dmitry family.

He was known as the fool of the Dmitry family. He was trampled on by the second son. What people thought of him didn’t matter.

The Heavenly Demon. No, Roman Dmitry, cannot live a normal life.

Lucille is re-employed in the house of an overly cool, good-looking magician!

After being unceremoniously kicked out of the mansion where she worked for three years, Lucille comes to the countryside in search of safety and a peaceful life. She is introduced to a new job as a housekeeper, but it turns out to be in the home of a quiet, eccentric, white-haired magician called “Sensei”.

Sensei, who hates “unnecessary things,” is very strict in his treatment of her. Lucille, who wants to protect her good job at all costs, begins to observe sensei from the shadows…

“C-cute!”

Lucille gradually discovers the cuteness of the difficult sensei’s unexpected appearance and finds herself becoming more and more attracted to him…

The owner of the mansion that drove Lucille out has a strange obsession with her and plans to bring her back.

A magician who has utmost respect for sensei attacks.

Please, let me live in peace! Sensei won’t like it!

This is a romantic fantasy about an old wizard and a carefree, easy-going housekeeper who overcome various problems in their lives by using or not using magic, while nurturing their feelings for each other.

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What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”