Urban Plundering: I Corrupted The System! - Chapter 284: Chione’s Death

“Some connections are written long before two hearts ever meet.”Arjun never believed in fate, just another lost soul buried in the noise of textbooks and deadlines.Ayesha was a quiet storm, hiding a fragile heart behind glowing smiles and disappearing messages.They were just two strangers, separated by borders, bound by pixels on a screen.But what starts as casual texts in the dead of night slowly turns into something neither of them can explain.A bond stitched through unseen heartbeats.A love whispered through endless silences.But every heartbeat carries secrets... and some secrets are too heavy to cross the distance.When time begins slipping through Ayesha's fingers, Arjun finds himself caught between holding on or letting go.Will their hearts find each other in the silence or will destiny write their last message before they ever meet?

Officer, if I told you this just was a “Healing-type Game,” would you believe me?

While I was reading the first volume of “Danmachi,” I suddenly felt my cock grow. It grew so much that it started to hurt.Suddenly, my sperm gushed out. Before I could understand what was happening, I realized I was in a familiar place.

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.