MTL - You Look Like You’re Made of Money - Chapter 32

Ji Han, who was worried about his sister’s medical expenses, accidentally bound a money-making game.

The monsters in the other world, the puzzles in the film and television world, and the forbidden tombs in the legendary world.

Your game is too scary (love)!

What? 50,000 for completing the task? Kill a monster and give 30,000?

As an ordinary person, Ji Han shivered in the game, doing his best to complete the task to grab the head and get the much-needed monetary reward.

But in the eyes of others, he is the strongest alien warrior.

“Captain, the 10th team is really empty, they actually found a cowardly ordinary person.”

“Fart! All the monsters in the other world were killed by him alone. You fucking call this a cowardly ordinary person?”

- Description from novelbuddy

“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.]

……………………………………………………………

Dear readers! Without any ads, maybe you will prefer .

“Let me tell you something honey, Revenge is the best dish served cold.’’****To her, betrayal was the most excruciating pain in the world—the kind that pierced her soul.The people she had loved with her entire heart had not only failed her, but ruthlessly deceived her.“How could you?” she had once cried, her voice shaking as she stared at the man she had chased like a madwoman. But he had already cheated on her—expecting a child with the very woman she despised with every fiber of her being.Her so-called “family ” was no better. The relatives she thought she could trust? They only wanted the inheritance meant for her and her little brother.The people who once smiled sweetly and flattered her? They were nowhere to be found when her glamorous and envious life crumbled to nothing.“I thought you all cared about me...” she whispered bitterly, watching as one by one, they all turned their backs on her when she needed them the most.In that devastating moment, everything became painfully clear. The bubble she had lived in popped and she finally saw their true faces.But....it was too late.Everything she had was gone, slipping through her fingers like sand in the wind.Except for him.Her former fiancé, the one man she had tried to ruin with every scheme she had planned, remained by her side until the end. He stood by her, even as she took her final breath.She had accepted her tragic fate—until something phenomenal happened. She woke up once again.Back to the past.Where nothing had happened yet.

Vincent van Gogh, the painter who refused to be an accessory Of power and painted with his soul at the tip of a brush, was not understood by anyone and had to die like a madman, and he woke up in 21st century Korea.

Like a wheat field melted with gold, like a sunflower that swallowed the sun, a dazzling painter once again takes the brush.