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... 't shatter the cockroaches. Fortunately, the Soviet War was reinforced with energy in time. Otherwise, Jessica had to pay for the repairs. Look at ^-毛^-线^-小^-said to stabilize Jessica, wait until she gradually calms down, and this continues.

Jessica is very active and has a strong response.

Speaking of it, even the real Superwoman must fall under the rifle of the Soviet War, let alone Jayka? However, her physical fitness is also able to survive, so the Soviet War did not deliberate ...

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Akiyo Oshima was a successful man, with wealth, status, and a perfect life. However, by giving in to the temptation of betrayal, he awakened the wrath of the one entity he should have never angered—his girlfriend, Sayuri, who turned out to be Death itself.As punishment, Sayuri cursed him. Akiyo was stripped of his identity, his form, and even his gender. In every world, a new body would be created for him, allowing him to inherit memories and a random aspect of personality. Now, he must live as Shizune Accursed. But her new existence was far from a second chance. Trapped in an endless cycle of reincarnations, Shizune awakens in different worlds, with no control over her fate. And in each of those worlds, there's always a Yandere she has met or will meet, whose obsessive love inevitably leads her to her death—whether by possessive love, madness, or simply the need to have her all to themselves.Condemned to die over and over in the arms of those who love her in twisted ways, Shizune, in an attempt to understand the burden of manipulating others’ feelings, finds herself on a dangerous path. Will she survive and break this curse? Or will she remain forever trapped in a cycle where love is uncontrollable and always leads to death?Whether in a fantasy, futuristic, or modern world, where anything can happen, the question remains: who is really on Shizune's side? Are they allies she can trust, or just more Yanderes waiting for the perfect moment to seal her fate? Among men and women, even within her own family, Shizune will need to figure out who she can truly trust… before it’s too late.

She Live Streams Modern Life to Ancient People After Failing to Conquer the EmperorChapter 256: Extra Extra Conclusion
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[Female lead with no romantic interest + ancient female awakening + passionate righteousness + refusing to be a submissive woman] After failing to conquer the emperor, the system punished me by forcing me to livestream modern life to ancient people.

The man I personally supported to ascend the throne saw me wearing a strapless minidress and dancing seductively at a banquet amidst revelry and wine, and he flew into a rage, accusing me of violating womanly virtues.

I smiled calmly and pointed the camera towards a modern street, launching a shocking livestream for the ancient people!

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“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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