MTL - The Ex-husband Wants to Get Power Every Day After the Divorce - Chapter 405 do you think i'm a fool

They called the Vorrakyns Dragon Riders, but their legacy has crumbled into dust. For centuries, no true Dragon has answered their call.Vacuse Vorrakyn was born into a dying legacy: once-mighty, now feared and cast to the Empire’s edge.A runt. A bastard. Yet he served his family with fierce loyalty, only to be betrayed by the father he once swore to obey. Vacuse died a pawn... a sacrifice to the forbidden magic to call a true Dragon.Discarded like worthless trash.Now, he’s back.Reborn at six, memories of betrayal burning sharp and anger raging in his veins. This time, he’s here to claim what was stolen and everything they denied him.Armed with forbidden knowledge of the Dragon Pathway and the secrets to bond with a legendary beast, Vacuse is determined to rebuild the family legacy—on his own terms.

I seem to have reincarnated in the world of an r-rated romance fantasy novel. And not just as an ordinary character, but as the witch who loses her life to the crazy male lead!

Luckily there is a long 200 years until the main characters are born and grow into their roles.

Now that my life is not in imminent danger, shall we leisurely think of ways to avoid death?

However, I had not taken notice of a very important detail about the time I’d be spending ‘safe from imminent danger’. 200 years was by no means a short waiting period and by the time the younger version of the male lead appeared in front of me , I had completely forgotten the original novel’s plot!

Oh, whatever, now that it’s come to this, the only way to survive is to raise the male lead into a sane and stable adult! The first step to avoiding death by the hands of the tyrant male lead is changing this extremely frightened child’s life.

“It must be very inconvenient for you to have me suddenly show up on your doorstep, I’m sorry. You can tell me to go away, I’ll be fine.”

“Nonsense. Do I look like someone who could be inconvenienced by a little boy like you? Also, what do you mean by you’ll be fine even if told to go away? It’s not like you have anywhere to go back to, kid.”

The little boy burst into tears.

‘Oh, this is so not it.’ Was what the witch thought to herself as the little boy sobbed

“Next, we have the most noble recipient of the Order of the Garter, the Grand Cross of Saint Michael and Saint George, the Grand Cross of the Bath, the Victoria Cross and the lower grades of Knighthood, the leader of the anti-colonial movement, the bell-ringer of the East India Company, the hero of the Crimean War, a Fellow of the Royal Society, a lifelong dear friend of literary giants such as Dickens and Great Dumas, a steadfast supporter of scientific luminaries like Faraday and Darwin, having served as assistant under-secretary, deputy under-secretary, and permanent under-secretary in departments of the Home Office and the Navy Department of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, the inaugural Cabinet Secretary and head of the civil service, the first graduate and most distinguished alumnus of our school. Please welcome Sir Arthur Hastings to deliver a speech on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the University of London.”Arthur's gaze swept across the crowd before him, looking at the young faces and murmured, “Agares, what do you think I should say?”The Red Devil's wraith hovered behind him, saliva almost dribbling from the corner of his mouth, “Look at these ignorant souls; they still worship you as a hero. Why not say something they'd like to hear?”Arthur took a deep breath and let out a deafening roar, “Oxford is a bunch of whores' bastards!”“Oh!!!!”The audience erupted into thunderous applause.“Cambridge is the same!” he added immediately.The applause grew even more fervent...(The protagonist, possessed by a devil, travels through 19th-century Britain in a world without magic)

“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.