PREVIEW

... ly been away for a few months, the bustle of the Imperial Capital felt like a distant memory.

However, I have nothing to feel nostalgic for even if I actually return to the Imperial Capital.

After all, my hometown is beside that forest and the Spirit Tree.

I felt that keenly while slipping inside the Imperial Capital.

When a soldier is approaching from the front, I move while hiding behind the carriage, and I walk on the alley as much as possible and makes sure th ...

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“Rishe Ilmgard Wertsner! I’m breaking off my engagement with you!”

“Okay, I understand”

“Huh.”

The Duke’s daughter, Rishe left the evening party without delay.

In fact, for Rishe, this engagement has been terminated for the seventh time. And that’s where her new life starts, having enjoyed the way of life of a pharmacist and a dressed up knight, she lost her life at the age of 20 and now has gone back to the scene where her engagement was broken off.

Normally, this could have broken Rishe’s heart, but her mentality now is strong.

Her past six lives have been busy and fulfilling, she wants to live longer this time around.

If possible, she wants to live a life of leisure and squander money….

To commence her 7th life, Rishe has set up such a diagonal goal.

However, in this life, she will be married to the Crown Prince of a militant nation, who killed her in her past life.

…….. It’s probably better. It doesn’t matter if it’s a former rival country. In her seventh lifetime, she’ll enjoy loafing off at a castle!!

Against all her determination, she inadvertently demonstrated the skills she had cultivated in her past lives and garnered attention as a brilliant Crown Princess.

The Omnistore SystemChapter 492: Equally embarrassing regalia (R-18)
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“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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