Serial Player - Chapter 453 - 129: Emoticons

Hazekaya was just an ordinary guy… until he woke up in another world. Sounds exciting, right? WRONG!Before he could even process his isekai moment, he found himself being chased by a horde of horny male orcs.From dodging unwanted “affections”, to getting thrown in jail, to accidentally sleeping in horse crap and earning just enough to not starve. Between dealing with an ex-adventurer boss, getting tricked by his so-called “friends,” and realizing even slimes are harder to kill than he thought, his life in this new world is anything but the overpowered adventure he dreamed of. Instead of becoming a hero, he’s stuck as a low-wage wall repairman, constantly broke, and now the locals call him “Shitman.”With zero cheat skills, no legendary weapons, and a severe lack of dignity, Hazekaya is left wondering—“Why is my isekai life like this!?”

A rookie clerk asked his senior curiously: I heard our President is already married?

Aether Moirai was never meant to be free.Born from the final spark of the Abyss—a forgotten god’s last act of rebellion—he is the last vessel, a boy whose powers grow stronger the more his mind fractures. Bound by the Codex, a system that can rewrite history itself, Aether is hunted by worlds that fear what he might become.The Infinite Library has always been his home—a labyrinth between worlds where every book is a living realm, and every story is a battlefield. But when the tales begin to warp, birthing monsters and rewriting entire histories, even the Library’s endless shelves can’t protect him.To survive, Aether must step into dangerous books where myths breathe, legends bleed, and the wrong choice can erase you from existence. Each journey brings him closer to the truth of his creation—and the author who penned his fate.He is not the hero of these stories.He is the flaw in every one of them.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

—— Dickens《A Tale of Two Cities》

I made myself a ghost back to life from death, with hatred in my bones and conspiracy brewed for years, sinking into the marsh, into the abyss. All I want is to bury the rotten roots, growing thistles and thorns which can kill like upas, to stab into the hypocritical civilization.

In the bottom of the muck……I found my lucida.

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