Sir, How About A Marriage? - Chapter 295 - Afraid of the Consequences

This is the story of a modern man who transmigrates to 16th-century India in a parallel world after dying to save his first crush on a date. He regresses as a lowly-ranked soldier in the camp of Hemu, the last northern Hindu king, who is fated to lose and die at the hands of the Mughals.With his modern knowledge and past experiences, the protagonist alters the course of history, forcing the Mughals to surrender and retreat beyond the Ravi River, which is in modern-day Pakistan.As a reward, he is granted trading rights and becomes the emperor’s personal attendant. Using this opportunity, he sets out to reshape the empire. By promoting private enterprise, establishing trading company, and creating opportunities for the lower communities, he begins to shift India’s economy away from the feudal system toward modern capitalism.Despite fierce opposition, these reforms not only unify the majority of Indians but also position the empire as a rising power in global commerce, transforming India into an economic force.His journey is filled with trials, including internal turmoil, political strife, and the looming threat of invasion from the Mughals in the west and the Dutch and Portuguese in the south. As the emperor’s trusted aide, the protagonist not only rescues the crumbling empire but also forges his own path, eventually claiming the title of emperor himself.Join him on this incredible journey of empire's ascension, as he explores how India could have been in the 16th century if history had taken a different course. With just one battle's result, the fate of the entire world is transformed.

To sum up in a sentence, *slag men **washing white daily, transmigrating to different worlds to wash white, and the goal is to become a good man!

Note:
*Slag men refer to men who play with women’s hearts aka scum.
**Washing white means to come clean, fix up your life.

- Description from Novelupdates

What are you going to do when you pass through another world?

Yalin(MC): Perhaps, many of those seniors who passed through another world would like to use violence to solve their problems, but I like to control the fate of a country with economics and races with faith, I use benefits to instigate others so that I profit, and even making them take risk for me without them even knowing. In each country the highest is the king and behind the king is a string that is attach to my hand, for I am their puppeteer.

Yalin(MC): Certainly the credit does not only belong to me, I must give my thanks to the great knights and their leader Zero(Code Geass). The supreme master of blood, the moon princess(Tsukihime), the black and white princess, and also my ‘good friend’ called by his title the ‘God’s left eye’, president of the neutral autonomous city. Finally I must give thanks to my loyal and competent subordinates!

- Description from Novelupdates

“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.