Overthrowing Fate - Chapter 128: Pill of Transcendence

As an illegitimate daughter of the late Count Rotschild, Vivianne's life has been a living hell since her father's death from the plague, along with her mother.Forced to live as a servant in the Rothschild mansion, Vivianne's fortunes take an even darker turn when her powerful stepbrother, the current Count, arranges for her to marry the tyrannical emperor, Dietrich Erengrad.However, Dietrich rejects Vivianne as his mate due to her unique pheromones, which continue to attract other alpha werewolves even after he marks her.Tossed aside without protection, Vivianne becomes trapped in a nightmare, unable to control her own heats as she is mocked, used, and treated as a mere lust object by the lustful alpha wolves of the imperial palace.After enduring three years of this living hell, Vivianne sees no other choice but to take her own life. In her final act, she curses those who have abused her, praying that if she is ever given another chance at life, her tormentors will experience an even worse fate.Miraculously, the gods hear Vivianne's plea and grant her a second chance, sending her back in time three months before her horrific ordeal began. Now, Vivianne is determined to escape this cruel destiny by any means necessary, no matter the cost.

The second Ye Lulu transmigrates, she gives birth to three children on the spot.

A very ordinary white collar worker, Han Sang Hoon.One day, he came late to work and there he finds a strange destiny called [12 Hours After]

“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.