Starting With Chaos Physique - Chapter 56 - The Protector Appears, Qin Qingqing Runs Away in Anger

He rescued her. It took him eight years to pamper her into the most beautiful woman in the city. Anyone who dared to lay a finger on her would die!

Little did he know, she had long set his sights on him. She considered him as her possession. Did someone look at her man? It didn’t matter if the person was a man or a woman. She’d torture them in the most horrible way possible! However, to her surprise…

“Are you done playing?” He forced her into a corner. That’s when she found out that he’d known all along…

Dear readers! Fresh green style, maybe you will like it more in .

I had thought that my life couldn’t get worse when I walked in on my fiancé cheating on me with my best friend. But after a series of unfortunate events, I opened my eyes in a world that I had only read about in a webnovel, the Erudian Empire, ruled under the domineering, bloody reign of Emperor Helio.

The worst part?

I’m not even the main character! Reborn as Winter Royberg de la Erudian, I am the pitiful side character who is discovered to be a royal bastard princess due to a certain physical trait only the imperial bloodline possesses. But I know the end of Winter’s story and the unwanted royal punching bag is framed as a witch and killed at age 16 on the guillotine due to the scheming of the cruel empress.

An aloof, murder happy father? Check.

Psycho half-sister? Check.

Meddlesome author who wants me to follow the script? Double check!

I don’t want to die an early death again, so I’m determined not to ever be discovered as a royal again. But before I know it, I’m trapped in a palace of blood and opulence playing tricky games of power, games I have no clue how to win. How will I survive to adulthood in the imperial palace and get my happily ever after? And am I really the only person who fell into this world?

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.

I think my husband wants to kill me.

Whether it’s forgetting to turn off the gas or finding the bathroom door locked after I just finished bathing, it all makes me feel that he wants to kill me.

I know that I shouldn’t be considering this because we are a gay couple and we have been together for seven years.

Our relationship is also stable, and he is very good to me.

But I really think he wants to kill me.

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