MTL - After Being Forced To Kiss the Boss - Chapter 32 I want Li Wanqiu to accompany me

System: You are the only human who meets the binding requirements of this system, please bind with me!

Su Yu: I have money, good looks, power and influence, why should I bind myself to you?

System: You haven’t fallen in love ye-

Su Yu: Aiya! My stomach is hurting all of a sudden!

Su Yu bound himself to a system; his only task is to scatter some IQ to the brainless male protagonists. The soft-headed male protagonist chases after the female protagonist, the male protagonist with some intellect chases after him. He feels that something is not quite right…

Su Yu: System, is there something common between these male protagonists?

System: Yes, they are all male protagonists.

Su Yu: …Suddenly I don’t feel like talking anymore.

Male Protagonist who has been scattered with some IQ: Then don’t talk, just kiss me.

Su Yu: …Suddenly I don’t feel like doing the task anymore.

- Description from novelupdates

The maniac who was crazy about all kinds of fields such as military and steampunk had been reincarnated.

However, his father was King Sejong the Great?

The mania-wise king and his crazy maniac son.

Along with the ministers, and countless humans who were getting exploited.

Even today, the night of Joseon was filled with the light of overtime.

I possessed a minor character who marries the prince. I’m not thrilled about it. The prince is a scumbag who flirts with the heroine despite being engaged and eventually gets defeated by the original male lead. In the epilogue, all he does is apologize to his fiancée and marry her, with barely a line to his name. Well, his personality is twisted, but at least he’s handsome. And since he’s the third prince, he doesn’t have to shoulder the burden of ruling the kingdom. That’s decent husband material, I suppose. Go ahead, make a fool of yourself. You’re going to marry me anyway. I’ll just sit back and enjoy watching your embarrassing history unfold. “Doris Redfield. Don’t expect me to ask you to dance at this ball. Maybe not at the next one either. Or the one after that.” “Yes, Your Highness. As you wish.” “Even though we’re engaged… wait, what?” “It’s just a joke proposal our parents once tossed around, isn’t it? You don’t need to take it seriously, Your Highness. I’m really fine with it.” “…Is that so? Yes, that’s… fine, right?” Why are you panicking, prince? You started spouting nonsense first. Where’s your conscience? But then, this guy really has the audacity to ask something outrageous. “…Do you, perhaps, have another man?” The guy who flirted with the original heroine is saying this now? Calm down. He’ll regret this later. All I need to do is remain a devoted fiancée until then. “What are you talking about? A woman like me… plain, not beautiful, with a gloomy personality, what man would even—” “What? Who dared to say that about you?” …You did, in the original story. This guy is acting weird. But he’s not the only problem. “My dear little sister Doris, that dress you’re wearing today is dreadful. No wonder there are rumors His Highness has abandoned you.” “Well, it can’t be helped. His Highness is too good for me anyway.” “…Hold on. Too good? Who said that? Wait, were you really dumped?” The original villainess, who also happens to be my older sister, Natalie, is suddenly interested in my love life. Why are all the original tr*shy characters growling at each other over me now?!

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.”