Contract Marriage: Billionaire and His Deaf Wife - Chapter 49: Meeting on a Narrow Path (1)

Elias “Grim” Kingsley, a nine-year-old orphan with a hardened heart and sharp tongue, dies alone from pneumonia in an overcrowded orphanage. Known for his perpetual scowl and biting remarks, he's labeled a “problem child” by caretakers and “damaged goods” by potential adopters. Years of rejection have built thick armor around his young heart.In death, he encounters the God of Balance who offers him a second chance at life in a different world—this time as Grim Van Ambrose, son of a noble house. Balance explains that every soul deserves to know love and connection, something Elias was cruelly denied in his first life.Promised the family and belonging he never experienced, Grim begins his new life only to suffer an immediate tragedy: his mother dies moments after his birth. This cruel twist of fate reinforces his belief that loss is inevitable, leaving him with a distant father and the mysterious voice of a “Guidance Assistant” in his head.As Grim grows into his new identity, he struggles with his dual nature—the emotional scars of his past life bleeding into his present one. His difficult personality and sharp tongue remain, now paired with noble privilege and expectations. Despite his outward brashness, he carries the deep wounds of his first life and the fresh loss that welcomed him into his second.What begins as one orphan's second chance evolves into an epic journey through a world of ancient beasts, elemental magic, and deadly political intrigue. As Grim uncovers the truth about the Ambrose Clan's fall from grace and the conspiracy that framed them for treason, he faces increasingly dangerous adversaries—both human and monstrous. His quest for revenge against those who destroyed his family's legacy will challenge him to master forbidden techniques, forge unexpected alliances, and ultimately decide whether to rebuild the Ambrose Clan as it was, or transform it into something entirely new.In a realm where power determines survival and ancient secrets lurk beneath noble facades, Grim must learn that sometimes the greatest battles aren't fought with swords, but with the choices that define who we truly are.

Someone once saw me at the end of the world and respectfully called me the serpent that coils around the world—Jörmungandr.Someone once gazed upon my form at the edge of the Underworld and called me an ancient serpent—Satan.I was also feared by the gods and was called the hundred-headed dragon—Typhon.I have had many names—the serpent of creation, the serpent of sacrifice, the serpent of ceremony, the serpent of the world...But I have wandered through the chaos and arrived at the wilderness. There is only one divine name—the Primordial Ancient Serpent, the origin of everything.

“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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One minute, she was spiraling out of her scooter, watching in horror as her fried chicken flew into the horizon. The next minute, she was signing the contract to become a mother to his sons while staring into his glacier blue eyes.“The contract is effective as of now” He announced, as he dropped the pen. His brow was lifted challengingly and his voice reverberated around the room, bounced and sent zings of electricity down her spine.She tilted her head to a side, studying him covertly as she smiled menacingly. She was going to make him regret his decision.Let the games begin..!