MTL - I Built a Territory in Ancient Times - Chapter 167 Festival

High-school student Koremitsu Akagi finds himself attending the funeral of Hikaru Mikado, who had died in an accident during Golden Week. He’s not sure why he’s there, as he only exchanged a few words with Hikaru at school. However, Hikaru doesn’t seem to be completely gone from the world, as he comes back as a ghost in order to fulfill a promise to Aoi Saotome, his fiancée. Since Koremitsu is the only one who can see him, he asks him to carry out his promise in his place.

Complying with his request, Koremitsu tries to fulfill Hikaru’s promises to the rest of his “girlfriends”, helping them overcome past misunderstandings and repair broken relationships.

As childhood sweethearts, they were made to engage under the manipulations of their families. It involved having to to live in the same room and sleep together.

One night, she is accidentally made drunk, and in his delirium, he kisses her only to realize he enjoys it. From time to time, he would sneak a kiss on her, but his “crime” is eventually discovered in an accident. After being accused by her, he says with a smile, “You are my wife, why can’t I kiss you?”

The two people’s daily routine is full of bickering and mutual discrediting of each other.

Although he claims to disparage, he actually cares intensely about her. He feels crazily jealous when she is close to other men, to the point of tying her to his side, so that she becomes exclusively his.

- Description from web

At the age of 15, He Jin found himself a “husband” in an online game, their love was filled with loving affection and sweetness. However, because his study was being interfered with, his parent cut off the internet, he didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye and had to disappear from the game.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”