The Villain's Little Cat - Chapter 117

An absurd death at the peak of his career drags Dravin to a parallel world, where he is transmigrated into the body of a man with the same name and face as his own.He used to read webnovels about dragon reincarnation. So he never expects that in this new world, all he has to do is just be himself.Sounds like a dream, right? A second chance at life just for being yourself.But no, not quite. He has to cook delicious meals and serve them to humans possessed by demons.On top of that, Dravin must raise the Pleasure Index of a new world isolated from entertainment so they can be immune to demon attacks.Cooking is his passion, being a chef influencer is his job.Now, hunting demons would be his nightmare come true, or... could it be a wonderful dream, too?***[Chef, please unlock the secret recipe for a broken heart from a cheating partner]“Huh, it seems like curry noodles? Wait... what is this serenity capsule ingredient?”[That's from the tears of Asmodeus, the demon of lust and anger.]“What? How to get that?”[By not having lustful thoughts for 33 days.]“...”

Louise Evardon's life takes a dark and twisted turn when she agrees to marry and discovers her husband's haunting past— all of his previous wives are dead.But that isn't what she has to worry about as someone is trying to get rid of her, and she needs to save herself before history repeats itself again.

The life of the underworld was something Ashley had dreamed of escaping all her life. Born as a bastard from an affair between an underworld kingpin and a prostitute, Ashley was meant to die even before she was born. The only reason she survived was that her father thought she was a boy.From a young age, she understood that if she wanted to survive in this world of violence—on top of her father’s wife and daughter’s schemes—she had to be useful.So, she made herself a promise: one day, she would escape this world.Ashley almost succeeded… until her father found her again and thrust her into a marriage of convenience with his rival, Dominion, in his beloved daughter’s place.Everyone in the underworld knew Dominion.They were cruel, organized, and simply spawns of evil. And the man who stood above that power, Luciano, was said to be downright diabolical. Just their name alone could make anyone tremble.And this organization was where Ashley now had to survive.To make matters worse, the marriage also came with a child — Luciano’s mute heir.Forced to become the wife of one of the most violent and powerful underworld organizations, and the mother of its future leader, Ashley made a vow.“No matter what, I’ll escape this place!”But she would soon realize it wouldn’t be as simple as that. Not when the feared members of Dominion clung to her feet, begging,“Madam, don’t go!”And when the mute stepson finally spoke, “Mommy, if you’re leaving, please take me with you.”Finally, her diabolical, obsessive, and utterly territorial husband said,“I’ve packed our things. Where should we go?”

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.”