A Hospital in Another World? - Chapter 242 (1)

Lin Wei Xi found out after she died that she was just a cannon fodder in a novel, used as contrast to the gentle and considerate and virtuous female lead.The male lead was her ex-husband, the dignified heir of Yan Wang, his family were superior and brilliant, but the female lead was not her.The female lead was her concubine-born younger sister, and her husband’s white moonlight, his cinnabar mole, no wonder! After Lin Wei Xi died, her husband finally married her sister as he wished.She watched coldly at the two like honey in the oil, in love and harmonious, everyone using the success of her younger sister to contrast the impropriety of the original wife.Lin Wei Xi sneered, okay, since your love moves the world, then this sister will come back and be your stepmother!So she married her ex-husband’s father, the father-in-law she never met in the previous life, the country’s God of war, who has not remarried after losing his wife, the one that hold military power, the brilliant Yan Wang.Later Yan Wang, who was in his prime years and used to act decisively, looked at his small, delicate, much younger wife, and had a headache.No matter, she is still young, he have to spoil her, indulge her, teach her.

“Ding, the strongest template system is officially opened!”

“Generating template…”

“Calculating…”

“Ding, congratulations to the host for obtaining a B-level template!”

“Extracting…”

“Ding, congratulations to the host for getting the JR-Smith template!”

Start with Neuroknife and become a legend!

- Description from novelbuddy

A Japanese salary man was reincarnated in a different world with swords and magic. He reincarnated into the family of a powerful noble. One day when he became twelve years old, he was suddenly summoned by his father.

「 I do not mind whether it is a woman in the town or a maid in our house, learn about women.」

Having gained the permission of his father, he uses his power as a noble to have his way with women.

“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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