You Are My Only Sunshine - Chapter 111 - : The Face Has Been Swollen

Lan Xuan smiled gently as she said, “My dear sister, who told you to obstruct my path? Your man belongs to me, your dowry belongs to me, your everything, belongs to me.”

There is a very strange restaurant in the City of Sin.Elves and dwarves must share a table, orcs are strangely well behaved, dragons are only welcomed on the small square in front of the restaurant, and the demons must bring their own stool.This strange restaurant with their strange rules continuous to attract a long line of customers.“This place serves the best food! The chef of this restaurant is a genius!” Some of the guests in the restaurant left glowing reviews. But these guests have a word of warning for other guests, “No matter what you do, never, never attempt to kidnap the boss or try to ‘eat and run’. You will die.”A cute little girl stood near the door, and demanded in her tiny voice, “You have eaten the food, now pay up, or I will beat you to death.” The five-meter tall dragon suddenly felt a chill running up its spine.

The much-anticipated cyberpunk holographic game was about to launch, and Jonathan hit the jackpot, getting chosen as a beta tester. But things take a bizarre turn. He realized he wasn't just playing some holographic game – he'd been transported to an actual parallel universe.

The moment he logged in, he felt something was off.

Question: What do you do when you discover that your in-game identity is the Federation's most wanted, and you're undercover in the official investigation department?

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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.”