Spirit Soul - Chapter 146 Treasury (2)

One night of spring breeze, stirring the white window screen fluttering in the air.Only a nightstand lamp is on in the room.The light is a soft, dim yellow.......

Hong Heeju is a sign language interpreter who has become mute due to severe depression.For three years of their arranged marriage, she and her husband never exchanged a single conversation.One day, her life takes a harrowing turn when she’s taken hostage.‘Don’t hang up! This isn’t a phishing call…!’However, her husband, who was even worse than a stranger, coldly disconnected the call.– “Call me when a body is found.”***You $%#£! He’s such a jerk!Overwhelmed with anger, Heeju decides to threaten her husband anonymously.The problem is that he was a well-known spokesperson for the Blue House.– “Can’t you send threats on time?”“That…”– “Here I’m anxiously waiting for my blackmailer’s call.”“What do you…”– “Are you playing around with someone else besides me?”“…?”Wait, is this the same sociopath husband I knew?——–TL/N: ‘Blue House’ was the official residence and office of the President of the Republic of Korea from 1948-2022.

After being reborn, Xia You accompanies a god-like cheater and a chip space, accidentally stepping into the 'Infinite Military Road'.On the peak journey, she realizes that the nightmare of the apocalypse has already arrived.Everything begins anew, and former comrades in arms return.The military road is infinite, the glory is infinite, I am the queen of the military road!**The half-new work 'Rebirth Space Farming' is being updated twice steadily, welcome to watch**

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.