MTL - It’s a Stepmother, Not a Sister [70s] - Chapter 48 look at monkeys

After the nth time of failing a marriage meeting, Xiang Han got himself a job: good treatment, high salary, free world traveling with food provided, house provided and even a ‘lover provided’?!

At first, he thought, apart from having to travel into the body of a scum cannon fodder, a scheming fake white lotus, everything else was okay. It was only later he realized that saving the target was also a problem. His imagination was neverending, even eating a cup of ramen was seen as a way to rouse his ( target’s) interest!

Xiang Han: This target is a no-go.

Certain Target: Very good, you’ve already managed to rouse my interest.

Xiang Han: Go outside and make a left turn to the optometrist, go get your eyes healed! Additionally, this “lover provided” isn’t necessary.

A Certain Target: This is certainly necessary!

- Description from novelupdates

When Yang Zizi woke up, he was told that he was the real daughter of the richest man’s family?

The fake daughter is well-educated and proficient in all kinds of music, chess, calligraphy and painting, and is loved by all. People have pointed out that the real daughter is not as well-behaved and lovely as the fake daughter.

Her biological parents were also indifferent to her, and her two brothers even attacked her for pretending to be a daughter.

But suddenly one day, the two brothers were vying to pamper the real daughter. Big Brother: “Sister, do you like the helicopter that my brother gave you? If you like it, feel free to give it to your friends.”

Second brother: “Sister, you can do whatever you want among the top 100 companies in the world. If they go bankrupt, I will open a few more for you.”

The mysterious max-level boss: Bao, I will take you flying.

The way the fake daughter is favored by the group is getting more and more wild…

- Description from novelbuddy

On the surface, he is the aloof and standoffish patriot whose sole purpose is to serve the nation. On the darker side, he is an invincible, powerful and mysterious man.

“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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