The Recall Trials - Chapter 61: The Hunter Has Arrived

[This is a daily novel about a seasider going up and down the mountain!

There is no pretentiousness, only the leisurely uphill and downhill!

Chronology, daily life, rushing to the sea, farming, raising children, parents who have short stories, don’t enter if you don’t like it, don’t spray it! 】

Ye Yaodong just couldn’t sleep, he wanted to go to the deck to blow some air and take a pee, but he fell into the sea and went back to 1982.

It is still the familiar small fishing village, but he is not the same as when he was young.

He’s been an asshole for half his life, this time he wants to live a good life, but why doesn’t everyone believe it…

He had no future in his previous life, and he doesn’t have any big ideals or ambitions in this life. He just wants to redeem his regrets, live a good life with his wife, and have a safe and happy family.

[To clarify, I changed my pseudonym. It used to be called “A Cup of Iced Lemonade”, but now it’s changed to “Rice’s Rice”]

- Description from novelbuddy

Orphaned at the mere age of seven and thrown out on the streets with no place to go. Kana lived the life of a street rat. She did what she could to survive from digging through the trash and stealing what she could. But even after almost ten years of surviving, her life still ended short.

A 21st-century tech manager, accidentally thrust into the body of Emperor Commodus—yes, the infamous villain played by Joaquin Phoenix—has one goal: not to die like him.Armed with his wits and a hyper-intelligent AI on a solar-powered laptop, he must navigate the treacherous politics of ancient Rome. Everyone, including his own sister, expects the arrogant, decadent tyrant. Instead, they find a calculating reformer. But as he tries to avert the fall of the empire, he discovers that being a “good” emperor might be even more dangerous than being the monster everyone is waiting for.

“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.