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... come back. Millie, it’s been eleven years. Haven’t you been able to face up to your feelings?” Qi Yan asked. “If it was just a sibling’s feelings for a brother, would you value this piece of paper so much?”

“Xiao Yan, don’t say it anymore.” Emily was a little powerless. Her feelings had been exposed, but Emily did not feel embarrassed. After all, in front of Qi Yan, Emily had nothing to hold back. She only had a deep sense of powerlessness. 𝑓𝙧𝘦𝘦we𝘣𝙣𝘰𝘃𝗲l.com

She forced he ...

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There was a time where I was summoned to a different world. I spent more than a year as a Priestess from a different world. I fulfilled my role and decided to return to my original world. Before leaving, I confessed my feelings to my escort knight. And from there I was heartbroken. After returning to the original world for a year and half, I was summoned again. What? Apparently this time, nobody summoned me. I was sent out to a great extent and have a lost love. I cannot face anyone now! No one knows that I was a former Priestess and I can only quickly return to my original world. Even so, it does not seem to work out very well…

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This is how a Japanese Princess relieves her stress of the day by using the latest VRMMORPG, and while playing the villain there, the first town turns into whirlpool of chaos, smashed the underground organization in one hand and went for a coup. It’s literally a playtime diary of a girl who is called as “Genocider-san”, “Roaming Last Boss”, “A different person plays the game”, “Raid Boss”, “Ruthless”, “Calamity”, and such by the players.

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A genius schemer, creating an emperor!

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With tears of blood she sacrificed her body to an ancient magic. This time, she will not fall.

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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.”