Cultivator of the End: I Refine My Own Death - Chapter 86 – The Last Choice

Hong Heeju is a sign language interpreter who has become mute due to severe depression.For three years of their arranged marriage, she and her husband never exchanged a single conversation.One day, her life takes a harrowing turn when she’s taken hostage.‘Don’t hang up! This isn’t a phishing call…!’However, her husband, who was even worse than a stranger, coldly disconnected the call.– “Call me when a body is found.”***You $%#£! He’s such a jerk!Overwhelmed with anger, Heeju decides to threaten her husband anonymously.The problem is that he was a well-known spokesperson for the Blue House.– “Can’t you send threats on time?”“That…”– “Here I’m anxiously waiting for my blackmailer’s call.”“What do you…”– “Are you playing around with someone else besides me?”“…?”Wait, is this the same sociopath husband I knew?——–TL/N: ‘Blue House’ was the official residence and office of the President of the Republic of Korea from 1948-2022.

Yan Yuling was born into a wealthy family and was an abandoned daughter since childhood. Her stepsister took her place as the pampered daughter of the Yan family and used her as a sacrificial lamb. She only wishes to have a boring, normal life.Unfortunately, she was destined to meet a handsome and talented businessman, who is also known as a 'cut-sleeve'. Their meeting is as cliche as a dog-blood drama, signaling the intertwining of their destinies. But, under the gentleman's facade, he is someone who carries dark secrets and thirsts for revenge.As they get to know each other better, they discover each other's hidden stories that could destroy their fragile relationship and kill their budding love.Faced with so many secrets, can they truly find love from each other?

Ai Qian, a street-crazy author who wakes up every day because of her own poverty, is bound by the system!
The system is obedient: Host, you are the daughter of a rich family, you are a billionaire female president, you are a superstar… Are you happy?
Ai Qian: Hehe, I might be happier if there is no hero who can kill me at any time.

- Description from novelbuddy

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.