Modern Traveler - Chapter 71. Kindness

In a foreign country, a leisurely little farmer.

Beer, side dishes, beef and sheep barbecue, small pond, three or five fish and shrimp, a pot of soup.

There are hundreds of flowers in spring, the moon in autumn, cool breeze in summer, snow in winter, and a hut in the woods.

- Description from novelbuddy

The story revolves around Charles Karino, a Levaamu Empire mercenary aerial pilot who mans the twin seater reconnaissance seaplane Santa Cruz. One day, he receives a preposterous assignment: to fly solo over 12,000 kilometers of enemy waters to protect a girl named Fana del Moral. Fana happens to be the next in line to the empire’s throne and a girl possessing beauty “equal to 5,000 beams of light.”

This is a standalone book. There’s another series under the name “To Aru Hikuushi e no Koiuta” (Love Song for a Certain Pilot) set in the same world, but in a completely different place and with different characters.

– Ulrezaj @ Mazui

Adapted to anime as “The Princess and the Pilot”

Three years ago, she was cruelly abandoned by the man she loved deeply, leaving her to walk down the aisle alone while heavily pregnant. Three years later, she reappears transformed, stunningly beautiful, and says with a smile, “Husband? I don't need a husband.” The man behind her narrows his eyes, his thin lips turning into cold blades, “Qin Yan, try saying that again?”

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”