A Core Ship From The Start - Chapter 89 - 72: Imagination MAX_1

Who made the rule that a woman can't be the first to confess her feelings to a man?

If there was one, then it didn't matter to this young woman.

In order to escape from her stepmother and stepsister, Zhang Liling sought help from Mr. Fang, a Business Mogul, specially invited to take her department on Business Management, and she was rejected because of her absurd request.

But through his Personal assistant, she managed to cunningly secure a home-work contract and moved into his villa.

A few weeks of living together as a Boss and Employee was enough time for Mr. Fang to see all the crazy sides of Zhang Liling and also for her to discover his health secret, hyperosmia. But the irony of her scent not affecting him baffled her.

Mr. Fang not being used to Zhang Liling’s unrestrained behavior and coupled with the rumors about them threatened to throw her out of his villa. But when she finally left, he began to long for her return.

At last, Zhang Liling returned. To others, she was a different person, but to Mr. Fang, she was the same feisty woman he has always known.

Together as a couple, Zhang Liling and Mr. Fang unmasked her stepmother’s deep dirty secret that will threaten the Zhang Family’s reputation.

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EXCERPT

“Mr. Fang, do you accept stray cats?” Zhang Liling asked a little breathlessly as a layer of sweat formed on her forehead. She had just run over in other to catch up with him.

Mr. Fang paused briefly in his steps and turned to give her a good glance after adjusting his reading glasses. “You look like one,” he said in a deep voice before continuing in his steps.

How could Zhang Liling let him leave like that when it was a matter of urgency? She quickly chased after him and yelled, “Mr. Fang, you really have to take this stray cat in.”

“I don't accept stray cats, I only accept humans,”Mr. Fang replied as a slight smile turned up on his face.

They say a god cannot fall.Apollo would like a word.Cast out of Olympus for giving mortals a prophecy they were never meant to hear, the once-golden deity finds himself stripped of power, name, and worship.Now he’s just a half-frozen stranger bleeding in a ditch, trying to remember how to be human without losing what made him divine.But the world below is not as he left it. Cities rot, old powers stir, and the threads of fate unravel where no loom should reach.Something is shifting in the dark, something even the gods did not foresee.Apollo was sentenced to live as a mortal for ten circuits of the sun.He plans to survive them.But survival is no guarantee of peace and power, once given, is rarely forgotten.

“Chosen Heroes! Scour these worlds as the champions of us, the gods!”When an unsuspecting class of thirty die in a mysterious incident, the benevolent gods take mercy and reincarnate them as Otherworldly Heroes.In a world of magic and swords, the Heroes are forced against hardships as they face off the monsters threatening the world, the evil forces lurking in the shadows, and even themselves and the other heroes. Secrets hidden in their pasts will surface and their skills, trust and love will be put to test as they will tackle their new home.The heroes will... Except this one.This hero is sleeping.

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

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