Last Shelter Online - Chapter 266 Alone

10 years searching for his lost sibling.

Is it wrong to face the perils of Dungeon alone, in a single-member guild blessed by a failed goddess? Maybe.

Is it wrong to dream of playing hero to hapless maidens in Dungeon? Maybe not. After one misguided adventure, Bell quickly discovers that anything can happen in the labyrinth-even chance encounters with beautiful women.

Only problem? He’s the one who winds up the damsel in distress!

Perdi, known widely throughout the continent, is a very famous author of adult novels. But Perdi’s true identity is actually Vivian, the Imperial Night Librarian.

Vivian sends over the fourth draft of her latest novel to her publisher to be reviewed, but her work is criticized because the way she writes hetero s*x scenes isn’t erot*c at all.

“What? So you’re saying I’ll only know what sexual relationships are like after I experience it myself? But what can I do when I’m bound to a chastity contract?”

Unfortunately for Vivian, she had to sign a chastity contract in order to be hired as an imperial servant, and has been forced to remain a virgin ever since. Worse still, only a member of the imperial family could break the contract … but Vivian only has eyes for Ray, a mysterious man who visits the library every night.

But as it turns out, Ray is the imperial archduke and the emperor’s brother! One day, he approaches her with a sweet offer that she can’t resist …

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.