Rebirth: The Fake Heiress Stuns The World! - Chapter 383 - Expulsion Order

Reborn in a parallel world, this place is imbued with eeriness everywhere... Do not enter the bathroom after midnight. At two in the morning, the sound of knocking resonates on time. A woman, haggard and emaciated, always stands with her back to oneself. Encountered a strange event? Lucky for me, I can Rewind! This is the story of a Reincarnator, carefully navigating a reality invaded by the bizarre, combating the strange with bizarre poses.

Humanity was living peacefully on Earth for millions and millions of years until the day unknown monsters from beyond space invaded them.

When humans were about to disappear, some people with abilities came out to the light and shared their knowledge and powers with the world, and together, they managed to push back the invaders during a terrible war that had lasted for years.

This war had created many orphans, and among them, Kye had lost everything, even his parents. And the only thing he received from their death was a pale-looking necklace.

However, once the necklace finally activated, a system was given to him, and his life changed completely.

The system gave him quests to do, and Kye complied. He was getting stronger every time he achieved them, until the day it gave him a weird quest.

[You have one day to kill the one who had sinned. If you do not kill, you will die.]

I became the childhood friend of the protagonist in a novel. The childhood friend who died from taking drugs.

“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.