Mr.CEO Looks Exactly the Same as My Son! - Chapter 33: Have a Cup of Tea with You

[System Activation Complete][Welcome, Host, to your new world.][You died, and your soul has been transported into a new world.][Mission Assigned: Build the Greatest Empire in This World]After a fatal accident, Aric awakens in a strange new world, now in the body of a seventeen-year-old half-elf with nothing but a shattered past. Abandoned by both humans and elves, he’s forced to survive alone in a dangerous forest. With no one to trust and nothing to his name.He awakens a mysterious system that gives him the mission to create the greatest empire. Aric takes up this task in other to survive, trying to make the greatest empire from scratch in this new world. Will he make it to the end other will this world swallow him.

He was on his way to buy some beer to celebrate his acceptance as a civil servant when he was suddenly isekai’d by truck-kun.

Shen Yubai from the international class is a wealthy young master, enormously powerful and notoriously difficult to deal with, haughty and proud. The transfer student, Shen Sinian, is fresh and handsome, sunny and cheerful, with a mysterious background, almost mythical.Xu Chuning from the regular class and her mother rely on each other, living a meager life, attending school with the aid of scholarships. She should have nothing to do with either Shen Yubai or Shen Sinian.However, recently, schoolmates have noticed that she and the transfer student Shen Sinian are unusually close, their interaction ambiguous. Shen Sinian seems to do everything she says, whereas Shen Yubai from the international class shows special attentiveness towards her.One day, schoolmates even overheard Shen Yubai cornering Xu Chuning, asking her in a deep voice, “Who is better, me or Shen Sinian?”Classmates: “?”Is this some kind of love triangle showdown?

“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.