MTL - My Inseparable House Guests - Chapter 851 I am also from 2018

In her third year living in this steampunk world, Ciel gained the ability to simulate both the past and the future.These simulations turned into a game where she could act without restraint, and after countless trials, real life became a replica she could navigate as though speedrunning it.Churches, potions, mutations, the Old Gods, witches, sealed artifacts… none of these have anything to do with Ciel. She’s just an ordinary girl who wishes for a peaceful life.She just happens to be particularly skilled at snuffing out danger before it even begins.

This is the story of a crazy lich who possesses an internal game system and brings catastrophe to the entire world.

“Let’s look at the daily quests today… it’s the damned choose one-of-two-options-type again. Destroy a town with a population of 30,000 people or above; reward: 10,000 evil points. Steal lollipops from 3 children; reward: 1 evil point. If neither of the quests is completed, then 2 points will be deducted.”

“Tsk! You think I’m stupid? If I really destroyed a town, a crusade of Epic-ranked Holy Knights would definitely come hunting me down. Even if I earned the points, there wouldn’t be any life left in me to spend them. I better just go be a kindly lollipop bandit.”

I’ve already had enough of being a notorious lich. Who says that a lich can’t be a good person? I’m definitely going to beat this damned system and be an upright and dignified good man.

- Description from novelupdates

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”