The Transmigrated Author - Chapter 8: Results

“I can’t accept this! I can’t! Even as a ghost, I’m going to spend eternity cursing that your relationship will shatter like glass! Break apart like a pair of mandarin ducks that fly away from each other!” With such a persisting obsession, it would be difficult for the vengeful departed spirit to move on.

The king of assassins was reborn, mastering both alchemy and poison. Sitting inside the space, there was a ghost that loved crying.

After getting hit by the truck, Luke was reincarnated as a target character in a reverse harem game.He was supposed to throw away his fiancée—the Villainess—and mindlessly follow the Protagonist.A side character he was destined to be, however, even if Luke accepts his fate as a side character, he cannot let the Villainess meet with the same dead end.-----------Additional tags: No yaoi, no yuri, no NTR. Obsessive character, possessive character, solo-romance, no harem, early romance, possible lemons.

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.