Why Did I Become the Villainess? - Chapter 376 : The wolf’s true color

[ Warning: Mature content (R-18)]In a world where the strong is king and weak don't have any right to even raise their heads.Eric, a boy of humble origin, was beaten to half-death state and thrown into the Demon abyss.Luckily, he survived and even got a life-changing opportunity in the form of [Godly Devil System]However...“What? I'm a half devil and the most suitable path for me is of a Dual Cultivator?!”Join Eric as he rises from the bottom, breaks the societal norms, and create a place himself for the world.

Blondina was a princess with commoner blood in her veins. She lived quietly in the Star Palace among the heavens, but one day, she heals a wounded cat. The cat became a balm to her lonely life. But the lovely cat was actually…

***

Amon stepped on the neck of the prince.

Amon eyes stared coldly at the prince.

“Humans dare threaten mine?”

“I didn’t know… I don’t know, it’s Blondina…”

“Yeah, I don’t know. But I don’t know either. How much power must be adjusted so that you will not die.”

As Blondina, who was watching, grabbed his collar to drag Amon,

Amon turned slowly and laughed at Blondina.

“Don’t worry, Blondina. I will kill anything that bothers you.”

***

What to do with him.

It seems that I picked up a scary creature without my knowledge.

After a near death experience thanks to his own mother, Jake Hollander has an adverse reaction to people, baseball, and family. His feeling of abandonment is slowly lost thanks to his foster family, The Atkins. They take him in and change his mind about everything. He becomes more open, better at baseball, and craves for family. Slowly all wishes are granted.

Instagram: @writerhalf_empty

https://www.patreon.com/half_empty ~~The Last Curve can be found there, a short story about Rhys


**Names, faces, and places aren’t real. A work of fiction. Nonetheless, it is my work of fiction so please don’t post it without permission. *I have used school names that do exist though, but I would like everyone to know that I have no affiliation with them. Nor do my views reflect their views.

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.