Sinister Ex-Girlfriend - Chapter 11

The world is diverse and flourishing. Humanity has changed, and with it, brought in a new era of prosperity. Males and females still exist, but the spectrum from which humanity is cast has broadened. With the introduction of alpha, omega, and beta, humanity has evolved even further.In such a word, Dr. Andrew Knox, known environmental researcher, is happy being a beta male. It has made his life easier by being middle ground, and as much as some wish he was one way or the other, he’s happy being who he is. Thriving even.He works in a world renowned research facility. He makes friends easily, and his projects are always funded. He even found someone who he thinks he could end up marrying if things continue in the right direction.That, and the vacant house next to his apartment building gets bought by a new neighbour. A cute, but cautious omega who relies on Andrew as a beta for help. Andrew couldn’t be happier. He loves being a helper, and loves when people rely on him.All in all, Andrew really thinks he has everything made.That is, until a research project with shoddy data is thrown back into his face that he has no recollection of working on, and all of his reputation disintegrates in between one heartbeat and the next.Heartbroken, it isn’t until Andrew wakes up, chained to a wall that everything becomes clear. He becomes a test subject to one of the scientists that he trusted. That he expected would never harm him.The life he had known, where he was a respected researcher was ripped out from underneath him. His identity and everything he’s ever known is stolen from him from a crazed researcher who he had trusted, maybe even loved.He has to relearn who he is, what he is, from scratch.Thankfully, he has one person in his corner. He just never expected to have to rely on someone whose shoulders were so small.This is an a/b/o story, and will have those tropes associated with it. I hope you enjoy :)

[Reminder: Yuri, GL, Yandere, No NSFW, Only Wholesome Romance, Toxic Heroines, Slow Paced, Slow Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Harem.]“Damn it, why the hell am I the Villainess?”Petra, a human resources manager, just went through a painfully dumb breakup. To cope? She did what any sane woman would. Binge-read a guilty pleasure romance and smut novel series from her teenage years, only to realize that the heroines have brain-cell-deficiency.One way led to another, she wakes up as Verena D’Auvergne—a minor antagonist who turned out to be the ultimate villainess of the whole series after an incident. The very woman who stole all the love interests and died trying!“Forget the male leads, I have to make the heroines forgive me!”Can she, the ultimate villainess, capture the forgiveness of the very women she was meant to destroy? Or will the cursed System, and fate itself, force her to chase after love?

A dangerous neon-lit city in a shattered post-war world.

The wilderness outside the city was wild and uncontrolled, the superhuman roamed beneath the cover of the night’s rain, xenomorphs prowled the streets.

Oligarchic company, extraordinary program, prosthetic limbs, spiritual network, street gangs.

Gu He only desire after transmigrating was to become a salted fish. But even if you wanted to, you couldn’t.

- Description from Novelupdates

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.