Our Glamorous Time - Chapter 47 - A Temporary Separation

I traverse along the pathway of darkness and imagination…

Entering the realm born by human imaginations…

Challenging Harry Potter’s magic, commanding the great Pirates of the Caribbean.

Terminating the Terminator’s strength, tearing apart the Matrix’s Hallucination.

Virus is my slave.

Endurance my inheritance.

Growing and hunting in the boundless universe.

Breaking through boundaries in a mysterious space.

Desiring evil, conspiracy and betrayer. Who can redeem what was already lost?

In a battle of demons, who can leave an immortal legacy?

A declining Trump card, Final evolution!

I’m… on a journey!

We are one!

- Description from Novelupdates

“What do you mean by I need to steal MILFs to become stronger!?” Waking up in an unfamiliar body of a Prince, Lucian stares in bewilderment as a transparent panel materializes before him, displaying a message that demands — “You need to steal MILFs to become stronger!” His mind races with confusion. What does that even mean?? As the absurdity of his new reality sinks in, he begins to accept the dark possibilities before him. In his previous life, as a master seducer, no beauty had ever escaped his demonic embrace. Now, with this new body, he savors the thrill of his newfound power. Their desires will become my playground, and their most sacred secrets will be mine to exploit. “You’re the Empress? I’ll grant you a divine body if you submit to me.” “Your lover is a once-in-a-thousand-years genius? So what? I’ll make you a prodigy that comes once in a million.” “Your husband is the sect leader of a powerful immortal sect? Irrelevant. I’ll elevate you to become an immortal goddess.” To claim the fate points of the ’Sons of Heaven,’ Lucian will seduce their cherished ones and drain their divine essence.

It was a hasty, arranged marriage.And on their wedding night, he ran away.He lived for ten years under a false name, becoming one of the 7 Great Masters of the Continent, but returned home when he heard news of his father’s passing.There, he found his wife, whom he thought had already left, whom he had only seen once before.She was still as beautiful as the first time he saw her.

“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.