PREVIEW

... three times makes you a fool.”

“Ryo, even doing them twice already makes you a fool.”

Here they were, at a teahouse facing the square.

Ryo and Abel had become the duo of overstuffed eaters, resting for the third day in a row, just like the day before and the day before that.

Yes, they had overeaten yet again.

“We even avoided ‘Happy Eats’ and went to a different place…”

“It had a sign saying something like ‘Eat Until You Drop’. And here we are, bo ...

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“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

……………………………………………………………

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He asks, “Since you love Wen Moshen, why are you in my bed?”
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With a cigarette in Fu Huai’an’s mouth, he crosses his legs. Across the light cloud of smoke, he squints his eyes—watching as Lin Nuan’s slim arms wrap around his neck; he feels stirred.

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Fu Huai’an spews out a cloud of smoke and snuffs out the cigarette. With a mellow voice, he says, “Let me teach you what kissing is!”

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On the wedding night, when the bride hung herself, the handsome husband was sickly, the concubine was glaring like a tiger to see what her best next move would be. Shu Huan who time-travelled to the ancient times encountered such a mess.

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“Doesn’t matter, this young master isn’t interested in your bean sprouts like body.”

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Man: “Eh…what are you doing?

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Man: “Ah……?”

Woman: “If you cross the line, I’ll hit you with the incense burner.”

Man “Uh……”

Woman: If……if I accidentally cross the line……you don’t…”

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“You check so carefully because you are afraid that I’ll harm you?”

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Chang Qing transmigrated into a novel of having children with a rich family, and became a vicious widowed man who has been hindering the gong’s HE.

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The point at which Chang Qing transmigrated into happened to be the first time that the original owner, who had not yet become a widow, climbed into the bed of the gong.

Facing Lu Zheng, whose face had sank and was about to come and beat him up any minute, Chang Qing gathered up his scattered shirt and solemnly said, “… I just went to the wrong room and slept in the wrong bed. Can you believe it?”

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Lu Zheng was thinking about how to teach him a lesson. As a result, this man stopped being coquettish. His buttons were always fastened to the top of his shirt, and he was fully clothed. You couldn’t see any skin at all. He looked so stoic and serious. This made Lu Zheng unhappy.

He wanted to rip off his clothes and watch him continue to be coquettish.

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