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... Luoyang, and it would be many years before he left the Monastery of Eternal Spring again.

Before leaving, he went to the Imperial Palace and had a conversation with Yuren.

The first words Yuren gestured to him were: "When the Holy Maiden entered the palace that night, I promised her nothing."

On that night, Prince Chen Liu made an overnight journey to Luoyang.

Shang Xingzhou's silence had persisted from then until today.

From a certain perspective, he had fallen in ...

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My GPA is lower than a slime’s mana.My name is Atheron il Ataraxia, and I’m the walking disgrace of the Royal Academy of Magic.I’ve been held back twice, my essays are used in class as examples of how not to cast spells, and professors sigh in relief when I don’t blow something up during morning lectures.Truth is? I don’t even like this world.I was summoned. A girl from this world pulled me in like a card from a cursed deck, and now I’m stuck living here. Attending classes, battling evil spirits, and dealing with stuck-up nobles whose names are longer than my backstory.But something’s off. My mana doesn’t behave like theirs. The world listens when I speak. And the whispers I hear at night? They’re getting louder.They say evil spirits wander through Ashgrad under the light of the moon. And I think they’re looking for me.They think I’m a failure.Maybe I am.But if this cursed academy wants to survive the next full moon, they might just have to rely on me — the last-ranked summon with a dangerous secret.

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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.”