Time Travel: The Best Doctor in Ancient Times - Chapter 427 - 291 The Creator of Miracles

The last thing Ariel expected after a weekend of binge reading was to be transmigrated into the same novel as the evil secretary who was bound to be eliminated.“It's okay, I can just disappear from the main story line and live a peaceful life.”However her hopes were shattered when a system barged into her mind and pushed her to fulfil the dead secretary wishes. The top one, capture the male lead.As she saw the formidable man sitting in his office chair with leisure, the full time student Ariel who never had an experience wirh boys thought with dismay.'This is going to be a difficult task.'However, it was this or deathSo she plunged into the journey of seducing the male lead, unaware that once she gained his attention no one would be able to save her from his clutches......Transmigration. System. Multiple Love Interests with a focus on the alpha lead. Possessive, alpha Male Lead and lots of face slapping. Fast-paced.

After someone took my life away from me, I felt something or someone pulling my entire being together with my memories away from me and placing them into somewhere where it was cold and hollow. And when I thought that my life came back to me...

I realized that my new life as one of the dead had already begun...

"Who am I?"

Which path will this soul choose? A path of Perseverance or a path of Ruination?

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P.S: This is my first novel that I write so there is bound to be mistakes...so go easy on me xD

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.”