Beware Mr. Officer, Tread Carefully! - Chapter 317 - A Proud ‘Wife’

Stumbling upon a game, I found myself immersed in a script brimming with excitement: superpowers, oddities, curious artifacts, and demons...Here, one can not only delight in the pleasure of grinding but also touch an infinite degree of freedom and even experience the curious thrill of being carried away by monsters!Let’s not talk too much, happiness, just happiness is all that matters!

Chu Chen, who used to be an ordinary university student from a common family, gets a peculiar system installed in his head one day.The system makes him capable of obtaining all kinds of valuable properties as long as he finishes the various check-in missions it sends out.What's more, a Good-Luck card in his possession brings him enormous luck, allowing him to solve whatever trouble that comes his way with almost no difficulties. Due to his abundant wealth and attractive appearance, Chu Chen receives great attention from the public and the admiration of dozens of pretty girls.But Chu Chen is, after all, a man with honesty and integrity, so with his money and luck, he helps his friends in need and punishes wrongdoers. With all kinds of different character perspectives and situations.This story vividly portrays the realistic and materialistic sides of people as well as the convenience and power of a rich man.-----This book is also known as “Why Am I So Handsome, Still So Rich, You Are So Ugly, Still So Poor”, “Being the Rich Man is Too Hard, I Don't Want to Be One Day”, and “Becoming the Rich Man from Sign in”

“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.