My Ceo Husband is Sworn Enemy - Chapter 142 - : Hatred for Him_1

One sunny afternoon, Kyle finally received the admission notice he had longed for and came to Hogwarts, a prestigious school with thousands of years of history.

Here, Kyle lived a very fulfilling life. In addition to studying every day, he would also use his spare time to plant vegetables and flowers, or go to a dark underground chamber to provide psychological counseling to a small animal that had been abandoned for thousands of years. .

Dumbledore: Kyle is a good boy who is upright, brave, kind and sincere.

Professor McGonagall: The Headmaster is right, Kyle never breaks school rules.

Snape: Ah, yes, yes…

Quirrell originally thought so, but until one day, he pushed open the trap door and jumped into a room full of biting cabbage…

- Description from novelbuddy

Lugis is an adventurer who accompanies the Hero’s team party. However, every day he has to fulfill tasks that are not pleasant at all. In addition, he is oppressed by the other members of the group. The only reason he remains on this journey is because of his childhood friend, Ariane. But she is fascinated with the team leader known as Hero. One day a shadow figure appears and tell Lugis, “Let me give you a chance. A chance to redraw your life.” And so, Lugis is given the opportunity to be sent to the past to restart his life.

“Why is this [Summoning Card: Goblin] wearing a mask?”

“Because it’s a Goblin Gangster!”

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.”