Cameraman Never Dies - Chapter 91: The super edgy assassin

Mara and Maria-Isabel have always been best friends. But while Mara is happily married to Ethan, Maria-Isabel is trapped in an abusive relationship. When Mara and Ethan help her escape, they never expect what happens next.One night, Mara walks in on a moment she never should have seen her husband and her best friend, locked in an intense, lingering gaze.“Tell me it’s not what I think,” Mara whispers, her voice shaking.Maria-Isabel looks away. Ethan stays silent.Their friendship was meant to save Maria-Isabel. Instead, it may have destroyed them all.A story of love, betrayal, and a choice that will change everything.

Nagi Travers, a 20-year-old shut-in and former gaming champion, lives a miserable and isolated existence after being tormented by bullies throughout his life. Fired from his last job and grieving the loss of his parents, Nagi now survives by playing video games and barely ventures outside. His world spirals further into despair when he encounters Jake and Mary, his former high school bullies, who humiliate him and steal his money.Broken by the return of his tormentors and the weight of his past, Nagi contemplates suicide as his only escape. Just as he’s about to take his life, a small girl’s ball rolls into the street, with a speeding truck barreling towards her. In a moment of selflessness, Nagi rushes out and saves the girl, sacrificing himself in the process. Fatally injured, he reflects on the idea that it's better to die doing good than bad.Nagi awakens in a surreal, white world, where he is greeted by an angelic figure who offers him two choices: remain in eternal peace, free from suffering, or be reborn in a different world where he could seek redemption and a second chance at life. Nagi faces a life-altering decision—rest forever or attempt to find meaning and fulfillment in another world.

“I already have a child with another man.”

It was a lie made in order to refuse the proposal of the leader of the most feared mercenary company in the entire country. But his response was unexpected.

“It doesn’t matter who the child is. Just birth it.”

She couldn’t understand.

What could this man possibly want with the princess of a failing nation?

“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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