Transmigration: The Little Chef Calls The Shots - Chapter 1089 - 026 Riddle Contest (Part 2)_2

“I was nothing... and now, I have one chance to steal everything.”In his previous world, Ethan was just another failure. No talents, no dreams, no hope.But death wasn’t the end it was a new beginning.He wakes up in the body of “Valerian Lucard,” the son of a great family... but the weakest among them. Neglected, shunned, broken.But this time, things are different.He has an unbelievable ability:Fate Theft.Skills, talents, future opportunities... he can steal them, but at a heavy price.And the worst part? What’s stolen... never lasts.Now begins his race against everyone: the elites, the geniuses, the chosen heroes.Not because he's strong, but because he refuses to be nothing... ever again.In this world, either you steal glory... or everything gets stolen from you.

# WIFE-CHASING“Honey, let’s make a deal.”“What deal?”“From this day forward, I will take care of you the rest of your life while you take care of the rest of me!”“Dream on!”[Sweet conversation of a couple]Four years ago, she left angrily while she was pregnant.Four years later…“Hey, I can see that you are having bad luck, and you get frustrated easily. Sir, you need a wife. My mom is single. Would you like to date her?”The chaste CEO gazed at the mini version of him before him with his dark eyes. He said nothing and brought the child and the mother home.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”

Broken-hearted and drunk, Yoshida, a 26-years old salaryman, stumbled upon a runaway-from-home high-schooler on his way back from the bar.

“Hey, you. JK.”*

“What the heck are you doing out here. Go home already.”

“Uncle, let me stay at your place for the night.”

“You can do ‘that’ to me if you let me stay.”

“If you meant that as a joke, it’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking. It’s fine by me.”

“Then allow me to tell you that I have no interest in brats.”

“Hmm?”

“Then, just let me stay.”

Notes:

[*] JK is slang for Joushikousei (high school girl)