Aromatic Flesh - Chapter 105.2: The General’s Daughter Who Eloped with the Lowly Stage Actor (13)

My motto : Never owe anyone anything .

Now I regret this motto so much cause it brought me a lot of troubles when I accidentally bumped into a demon , Helios .

All enemies fear him ,his wealth is beyond imagination and every woman begs just to get a glimpse of his attention but not me .

I’m just a simple girl who has her mind set on her professional career. Our ways met accidentally and fate kept pushing us in front of each other .

Is this good or bad luck????

His biggest enemy was his aunt, my biggest problem , that ruined my family's peace was my uncle's wife .

I wanted to become someone important , he wanted to get back his title and make his aunt resentful .

Even though we didn't get along we understood that the best way for both of us to get what we wanted was to collaborate .

After we succeed then each one goes on his and her way but he refused to let me go .

At the beginning I thought of it as something easy to handle but little did I know that I was about to be mixed in the royal family issues because of this annoying guy .

His possessive love , sweet like honey has trapped me , pulling me in more troubles than before. I am strong but this attention is too much for me .

Will I ever be able to free myself out of this mess ?

Su Ling was reborn before the end of the world, and got a system that can strengthen everything.

In order to survive, she made the greatest preparations in the shortest time, took revenge on the scumbags and scumbags, and then embarked on a new journey.

On the way, she met Sheng Hongye, an all-around handsome guy. At first, she just wanted to live a good life, but later she found out that she had somehow become the hostess of a new type of tribe.

“Sorry, I’m not interested in the hostess.” Su Ling said with a cold face.

A certain man: “Good boy, then let’s work on the infrastructure.”

Su Ling was annoyed. “Go away, is there anyone doing infrastructure work on the bed?”

A certain man: “Hey, I know you’re tired, so let’s be your successor.”

- Description from novelbuddy

Poisoned by his wife, betrayed by his best friend, and abandoned by his children—Matthew died broken and alone. But when he wakes up thirty years in the past, trapped in his eighteen-year-old body, everything changes.Now, the halls feel haunted, memories from a future that may never come keep popping into his head, and something strange is growing inside him—something he can’t explain. Sadly, this second chance isn’t a blessing. It comes with a price.But this time, he won’t be the victim. This time, he’s the one in control.

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

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