MTL - House Witch - Chapter 582 581. Movie King

A fluffy, sweet modern GL story about a mature older women and a cute university student.

In the year 2100, global warming has long since made the Earth's natural surface uninhabitable with a new ice age. Humanity takes refuge in huge, closed cities, but life is difficult. Video games are the opium of the people, letting them escape the chaos of life in immense metropolises.

In 2100, the first fully immersive VRMMORPG, "Horus," was released, and the world changed! Entirely coded by an independent AI, "Horus" made all other games look meaningless by comparison.

Megacorporations quickly monopolized on the wealth "Horus" allowed its players to amass, and soon people like Alexander were spending their lives slaving away to make money for the companies who employed them.

But on the day Alexander died of exhaustion, collapsing in his gaming booth...

...He woke up, alive, nine years earlier.

One day before "Horus's" launch.

"This time, I'll do it right! I know everything that's going to happen! I'll become the strongest, and no one will take advantage of me again!"


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///This work takes place in an MMORPG whose main goal is the exploration and conquest of space.///

///my two main inspirations are: The Reincarnation of the Strongest Sword God and the Legendary Mechanic.///

///I care about the coherence of the story, even if the theme of overpowering is present, it is thanks to the reflexive and opportunistic choices of the MC and not a chance to come out of nowhere. ////

A dungeon core novel. But with bees. A bee dungeon, if you will. Oh, and something about a young man finding his place in the world and maybe learning about the deadly calamity that threatens all of humanity. But mostly the bee thing.

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.