I Refuse to Become Scumbag in Tokyo - Chapter 724: Sword

Hello, everyone. My name is Shen JianGuo. I’m a night school teacher. I mainly teach the subjects of (Marxist) philosophy and ethics. I occasionally review new policies and measures for the students. I never see my colleagues and students during the day. The training institute classrooms are all abandoned schools, hospitals, or houses. The bus number is 444 and it always appears in front of my door at 12 midnight and disappears before 5am.

What? You say I met a ghost? Impossible. As a staunch scientific materialist, I don’t believe ghosts exist in this world.

But recently I’ve had an issue to raise. Can the training institute bring the class time up a little bit? Wouldn’t it be good to start around 8pm? Though I fear nothing on earth or in the heavens, I’m afraid of going bald.

- Description from Novelupdates

I remember the story of a novel I had read in my previous life just before my marriage. If you don’t mess up the wedding, you’ll be poisoned by your husband! So I kissed the pastor who was in charge of the ceremony.

“Commander, are you alright?” shouted one of the holy knights as he approached the pastor who was kissed.

Huh, what?

Wait … are you the commander of the Holy Knights?

****

Rurutia, who was about to die, wanted to spend her last moment in a temple where she felt at ease the most. She started a business with her friends for the temple, and it was a big hit.

“Miss, you have the world in the palm of your hands!”

“Are you a God who has descended to Earth?”

In the midst of being embarrassed by the large crown, the commander of the holy knights himself was also acting strange.

“All I wish for is to be your husband,” he said, his eyes shining with obsession. “Take responsibility for stealing my first kiss.”

This is all so wrong.

It seems that I changed my future.

Her husband, Derrick Vaisil, who had a funeral four days ago, suddenly came back to life. But this man was so different from before he died!

“I’m hungry, wife.”

From regularly turning up in the dining room that he had always avoided,

“How about we use the same bedroom?”

To a furtive suggestion of combining their bedrooms that they had always been using separately.

What in the world happened to this man?

*

“You always give off this delicious smell…………. but how can I bear with it?”

Right now, at this moment, Judith felt like he was a cruel predator who would completely devour her from head to toe easily.

“You, uh, what the hell are you?”

He, who tormented her as he repeatedly sucked on her soft earlobe and put his tongue inside her ear, chuckled.

“What am I?”

Derrick kissed her chin and whispered languidly.

“I am your husband, Judith.”

Perhaps the paintings in a museum are subjected to more nonsense than you would hear anywhere else in the world.The language that comes out of an artist’s life is the painting itself. It contains the most ordinary lives that know failure, desire, recoiling in fear, and compromise.Learning is about understanding that language. We miss much of what the paintings speak because there is no way to ask the long-dead painters about the philosophy of their lives.In an alleyway in the residential area of Jongno, there’s a peculiar art gallery. This place enables us to transcend such limitations. By sheer coincidence, I ended up visiting that place and began living an entirely different life.