Flash Marriage, Deep Love - Chapter 311 The Young Handsome Driver (1)

She is the daughter of an Alpha whose family had conquered the last demon wolf in Illyria.Esmeray is born into the prestigious Alpha family, known as the Montague. But after her father's untimely death, her life becomes a nightmare of abuse at the hands of her cruel stepmother and stepbrother, who torment her for lacking a wolf.Desperate for salvation, she dreams of a mate who would come and rescue her from the cruelty of her pack. When he finally arrived, her hopes were shattered, for he had only come to reject her.Her only connection to her family's proud heritage is her striking blue hair, a sacred legacy from her ancestors. But in a desperate bid for freedom, Esmeray cuts her hair to escape being sold to a rogue.Her daring action pushes her to the precipice of death, unwittingly awakening a powerful demon wolf, imprisoned for 15 long years. This Alpha demon, who has yearned revenge and bloodthirst, is instantly drawn to Esmeray the moment he senses her, and he is determined to keep her at his side at all cost.In the world of wolves, the hunt is everything — and he has found a prey worth chasing.

For the ten years she was the adopted daughter of the Lockwood Family, Isla Prescott had always been well-behaved.The only time she stepped out of line was to have a secret relationship with Silas Lockwood, whom she'd had a crush on for years.Because of their vast difference in status, the relationship came to a messy end.After Isla Prescott and Silas Lockwood broke up, she was pursued by Silas Lockwood's good friend, Shane Sterling.“He doesn't know how to cherish you. Why not consider me instead?”In Isla Prescott's eyes, Shane Sterlingwas mischievous, cunning, and full of nonsense, yet he was an even more unattainable figure than Silas Lockwood.Isla Prescott was sure she had never provoked him, but he cornered her by the bedside when he was drunk,caressing her red lips again and again, pleading with her over and over, “Isla Prescott, won't you give me a kiss?”What she didn't know was that, in places she couldn't see, he had been waiting with deep affection for a very, very long time.

Behind the calm smile lies a heart riddled with scars.Beneath the weight of fate burns an unyielding gaze.A body trapped in the abyss of despair—if it reaches out, can it grasp the light called hope?A soul locked upon the rack of destiny—if it prays sincerely, can it embrace the future called redemption?

“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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