Death God of the Drifting Moon - Chapter 110 -

My name is Yan, and since I was a child, I’ve been able to see some strange things.For example—In elementary school, our new neighbor Aunt Tan had a pair of all-around genius twins, who were like the “precious little geniuses” with halos above their heads. They could recite the English-Chinese dictionary backwards at three, master both Chinese and Western musical instruments by five, and hack into a country’s database by seven…Growing up next to such prodigies, my life was inhumane, tragic, and constantly subjected to comparisons.To escape the comparisons with these “other people’s children,” I specifically applied to a private boarding school for middle school.On my first day, my deskmate was a small, thin girl with bangs, wearing an old uniform, and her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s.Three months later, she woke up from a nap with a “rebirth” halo above her head.She moved effortlessly among the cold academic genius, the wolf-like school bully, the fierce boss, and the gentle childhood friend, leaving me, a lonely onlooker, utterly amazed.By university, I thought I had finally escaped this abnormal world.But as soon as I stepped into my dorm room, my footsteps froze.My roommates each had halos like “ancient times to modern,” “post-apocalyptic superhuman,” “will die if not spending money,” and “ghost king revival.”I clutched my little blanket and applied to the counselor for a room change, but to no avail.Over time, I gradually got used to it. “Handover systems,” “management systems,” “book transmigration,” “infinite worlds,” “three-and-a-half-year-olds,” “interstellar live streams,” “red envelope groups”…The types of halos kept increasing, and I was able to calmly ignore all of it, focusing on my own life.Every morning, I skillfully helped my “ancient to modern” roommate, who was being blacklisted online, dodge campus paparazzi and secure seats for class.At noon, I assisted my tycoon roommate in distributing today’s haul of luxury skincare and designer bags, tasting the city’s top private chef’s custom lunchbox, and exclaiming with emotion, “Darling, can I really accept these?”In the evening, I enjoyed the flowers and plants cultivated by my superhuman roommate on the balcony, tasting a mutated cherry tomato and commenting, “I feel refreshed and purified.”Late at night, when my ghost king roommate quietly climbed back through the window, I peeked out to ask, “You’re back a bit late today, didn’t bring anything back, did you?”My name is Yan, and I am not the protagonist of this world.

I am currently re-writing the first chapters of this story. They are quite rough and bounce around a lot and I can do better. At some point, I will replace these with the better chapters.Sometime in 2024 Aethon Books will publish the first volume of this story on Amazon, KU, and audible. This will mean the story will be stubbed. I will notify people far in advance of that.In the dystopian world of the future, life is rough when you live at the bottom. Jobs are non-existent. Far too many people live in poverty, crammed into huge buildings called Habitats. With no jobs in the real world, many people can only find work online in VR worlds as servants to the very rich. And it's getting worse. The old internet is unusable and hacked to pieces. The new system needs AI to run things, but all but one of them were destroyed. The last sentient AI is ordered to create a new game world so the rich can have a playground, and the corporations that rule the world can have a new global market place. Everyone wants a piece of the new game. The guilds are competing to be the first to find the dungeons and kill the biggest monster. The corporations are claiming land and putting in their online market places. Ozzy and his friends just want a paycheck.Four friends sign five year contracts as virtual serfs in a small village, and can't go adventuring at all to gain money. They don't have many choices. They can work as a blacksmith, barmaid and shepherd for all those years....or they can cheat and find ways to take advantage of the system and carve out a section of the game world for themselves, and earn a fortune in the real world.When they give you a mop and not a sword, you have to find the loopholes and change the rules.

Kang Haneul’s once-happy life was shattered by tragedy when his family was struck by a devastating traffic accident. His parents died and his sister fell into a coma. He worked himself to the bone to support his comatose sister’s medical expenses.Yet fate dealt another cruel blow. Just as his sister passed away from heart failure and he received a grim diagnosis of stage 4 cancer, he found himself in the path of an oncoming truck while saving a child.Facing death, he unexpectedly encounters the king of the underworld, who offers him a remarkable gift for his selfless act: a chance to rewrite the past. With determination burning within him, Haneul seizes this opportunity to change the course of his life and fulfill long-lost dreams.But wait- why do these people keep calling him an Omega?What the heck is an Omega???#BL #Omegaverse #Idol #notsmut

[Short Story] [Food Writing] [Sweet Little Cake] One day Ding Sha got transmigrated into a book, with a baby of unknown parentage in her belly.

Upon closer look, the baby turned out to be the male lead from a previous angsty novel she read.

A poor little thing unloved by his parents.

So impoverished that her stomach rumbled, but armed with superb cooking skills, she transformed herself from Ding Sha into the boxed lunch beauty at the construction site.

Kung pao chicken, garlic baby bok choy, spicy pork belly, tossed noodles – she cooked up a storm.

Before the construction workers could feel the stirrings of spring in their hearts, the baby’s father suddenly appeared.

Jun, carrying a travel bag stuffed full of cash, squatted outside the door gazing longingly at Ding Sha’s slightly bulging belly.

“Wife…I’m back…”

A 1v1 sweet doting story without abuse, a light and fluffy little sweet cake, safe for consumption.