MTL - The Rumored Second Son - Chapter 52 thrush

What was in the container that nobody wanted?What could be found in an abandoned warehouse?You thought there was only junk? No, no, no!Antique jewelry, limited edition racing cars, aerospace instruments, helicopters, cattle'... be creative so that you'd come up with a lot more!With the ability to turn waste into treasure, Zhu Yu, who had awakened the heavenly eyes, collected unlimited wealth from the unclaimed containers, and walked step by step on the road to success!

One night she gets drunk and mistakes the most well-known Mafia boss for a host and intends to sleep with him.

Oh my! What should I do? It’s best to run away!

- Description from Novelupdates

[Hiddenidentity, Femalelead, Loveaftermarriage]She originally planned to take her sister's place and marry a 60-year-old man, but accidentally married him, who was the richest man as he had also made a mistake. She thought they would soon divorce, but he chose to temporarily maintain the marriage.The public disliked her because of her ordinary background and believed that she was not worthy of him. However, her multiple identities were gradually exposed: academician at the National Research Institute, a brilliant doctor, the racing god, national representative of Go, and gold medalist in figure skating. And when the world found out that their marriage was only contracted for one year, she garnered numerous suitors. “Get out! We will never divorce! Never and ever!” he declared.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.