Transmigrated As A Villain, The Heroines Are Also Regressors? - Chapter 1: Reborn Again?

Yebai came to the world of Dragon Ball with the infinite crit system and became an ordinary person.

With the infinite crit system, Yebai has gradually become a candidate for the God of Destruction.

At this moment, he received an invitation from Wanjie Chat **.

Nami: “The boss has a lot of points, I am willing to kneel down and beg for support.”

Tohsaka Rin: “Don’t fight me for the boss, the boss is mine.”

Uncle Jiu: “Actually, I’m not a man, I can also be taken care of by the boss.”

**The Lord: “I am not a full-time and all-powerful immortal, I am willing to accept the support of the God of Destruction.”

- Description from novelbuddy

This story is about the romance that blossomed between a beautiful princess and several courtiers, told through the various positions they experienced together.

After three years of marriage, he never showed affection, so she decided to let go of herself and fulfill him and his white moonlight, fully devoting herself to her career.“Mr. Wen, please be self-possessed, we are already divorced.” Looking at the man in front of her, her expression was indifferent.The man's eyes were burning as he looked at the woman, deeply regretting his decision.He thought she was an ordinary woman, but she was actually an awe-inspiring genius doctor, the king of hackers who could bankrupt people overnight, and the fearsome Ghost-faced Flower.“After the divorce, you've repeatedly sought my attention, haven't you just wanted to reconcile with me? I'll be generous and give you a chance to pursue me,” the man said with a doting smile.

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.”