The Feast - Chapter 76

#HAREM, #R18, #ECCHI, #SMUT #ROMANCE[WARNING]****** /THIS NOVEL CONTAINS TOO MUCH EXPLICT SEXUAL CONTENT, CURSE LANGUAGE **** * ** ******* * **** AUDIENCE DISCRETION IS ADVISED“Willa. Man, that girl. Picture perfect. Like, the kind of perfect that made my teenage hormones throw a full-blown rave every time she walked by. My nightly 'Willa fantasies' were legendary, let's just say. Pure, unadulterated, mind-melting… yeah, you get the picture.So, picture this: me, late for class, scrambling through the hallway like a greased pig. BAM! I slam into someone. Willa. And, oh boy, did I get a show. Turns out, she was going commando. A major, major wardrobe malfunction. And let's just say my body decided to throw its own mini celebration. Instant bulge. Visible. Obvious. Her eyes went wide, a mix of surprise and… was that a smirk? My blood was pumping like a jackhammer.I tried to play it cool, slinking back to my seat in the back. But guess who decided to join me? Willa, blushing like she'd just won the lottery. My heart beating hard. Was she into me? Was this my lucky day?Look, I'm not gonna lie. This isn't some deep, philosophical journey. It's about girls. Hot girls. And, yeah, a harem. Because why settle for one goddess when you can have a whole pantheon? But Willa… she's different. She's the OG fantasy. So, the question is, can I juggle a whole crew and still keep my eyes on the prize? Can I have my cake and eat it too, or will Willa make me choose? Stay tuned, because this is gonna get wild.”#HAREM, #R18, #ECCHI, #SMUT #ROMANCE

Originally born from a wealthy family, she ends up leading a vagrant life for fifteen years. However, when she is eventually found by her family, she falls into another devious plot and eventually dies tragically.

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.

Su Yanyi: The president of Resplendent Entertainment, the legendary Entertainment Queen, and the support pillar every artist wanted.