MTL - I’ve Transmigrated Into This Movie Before - Chapter 11 Rival play

Necromancer】, Originating from ancient Europe, these mysterious wizards were often male, knowing how to summon and enslave the souls of the deceased to create undead creatures. Usually, those who practiced this craft had frail bodies, pale complexions, and twisted psyches, shunning and distrusting others. Some, who mastered the art, could even trade their flesh for an immortal Lich’s life. But can someone tell me how to practice the art of necromancy in the 21st century? In a law-abiding society, I can’t even get a skeleton! Misumi Mikoto: Doctor Chen, come quickly and help me examine this body; I can’t find the cause of death! Jounouchi Hiromi: Doctor Chen, come check on this patient first; what exactly is wrong with him?

Shu Ya-wang is a 28-yr-old landscape architect who is born into a military family. When she was 16 years old, Yawang’s father asked her to take care of 10-yr-old Xia Shu.

Xia Shu had experienced death during his childhood. He stayed by the body of his dead mother for the whole night. This caused Xia Shu to become withdrawn from the rest of the world. Over time, the warm-hearted Ya-wang slowly got through to Xia Shu.

Ya-wang’s childhood good friend Tang Xiao-tian got enlisted into the army after high school, and she later at the university got to know Qu Wei-ran a classmate who eventually turned into a foe. From then on, the lives of Ya-wang, Xia Shu and Tang Xiao-tian, three of them changed dramatically.

Ahcehera is a young woman FIGHTING cancer, finding comfort in the pages of her favorite sci-fi fantasy novel. She’s drawn to the villainess princess, a misunderstood character whose life is sacrificed FOR the hero and heroine’s happy ending. Ahcehera hates the unfairness of it all and wishes the princess could have a chance to live her own LIFE.Before she can read the final chapter that seals the princess’s tragic fate, Ahcehera passes away. Her last thought is a wish to rewrite the story, never expecting it to come true.When she wakes up, it’s not in her hospital bed but in the body of the princess herself. Thrown into a world full of political schemes, betrayal, and hidden dangers, Ahcehera is determined to change the princess’s fate. She has the story’s secrets and her own will to survive, but knowing the plot doesn’t mean it’ll be easy to change.Then, the unexpected happens. She crosses paths with a werewolf prince, younger than her and mysteriously linked to the hero. He’s more than just a twist in the story, he might hold the key to a different ending.As enemies close in and the lines between friend and foe blur, Ahcehera must decide. Will she stick to the script or fight for a new ending? One where both she and the princess get the happiness they deserve.Can a story already written truly be rewritten, or is she doomed to live the same tragedy all over again?

You’d think seeing the future would give me a head start on surviving the apocalypse. I had it all planned—until everything I knew shattered when my husband sacrificed himself to save me and our son. Now it’s just me, my three-year-old son Leo, and my cursed gift of foresight that only seems to kick in when it’s nearly too late.I’m doing my best to keep us safe, to find food, to make some kind of plan—“Mommy?”I glance down, trying to ignore the tug on my pant leg as I focus on our supplies. “Not now, Leo. Mommy’s thinking.”“Mommy!”I sigh and finally look down. My three-year-old is standing there, clutching… I blink. “Leo, where did you get a knife?”He shrugs, grinning like it’s the most natural thing in the world.My heart stutters. “No, really. Where did you find that?”I try not to laugh. I mean, he’s three. Maybe he just—found it somewhere? But the next day, it’s a water bottle. Then, a tiny flashlight, somehow with batteries still inside.I don’t even know what else; he’s pulling things out one by one with the pleased grin of a kid who’s just figured out his favorite game.Well, we may just survive this mess after all.Now, if only the universe could have spared me from him. I don’t even know his name, but I know his type: tall, broad, and annoyingly handsome, with an air of calm control that’s out of place in this chaos. Ex-military, if I had to guess, with a voice that’s just as infuriating as his smirk. The man has a habit of showing up at the worst—or best—possible times, with a gun at the ready and secrets buried as deep as those bright green eyes.I mean, he’s probably useful, but I’m trying to keep my eyes on the prize here: survival.For Leo and me.Because, foresight or no foresight, nothing is guaranteed in this new world—except the fact that people like him are trouble.