Blacksmith vs. the System - Chapter 220

The world’s worst offense, is called Love.

Due to being reincarnated into a financially struggling noble family, I had to find a way to make money.“Just wait one more day, and the next volume will be out!”“Next week is a hiatus? Are you out of your mind?”“Hurry up and give me the next volume!”“Quickly!”Before I knew it, I was overwhelmed with deadlines instead of romance.

[Reminder: Yuri, GL, Yandere, No NSFW, Only Wholesome Romance, Toxic Heroines, Slow Paced, Slow Romance, Slow Burn, Slow Harem.]“Damn it, why the hell am I the Villainess?”Petra, a human resources manager, just went through a painfully dumb breakup. To cope? She did what any sane woman would. Binge-read a guilty pleasure romance and smut novel series from her teenage years, only to realize that the heroines have brain-cell-deficiency.One way led to another, she wakes up as Verena D’Auvergne—a minor antagonist who turned out to be the ultimate villainess of the whole series after an incident. The very woman who stole all the love interests and died trying!“Forget the male leads, I have to make the heroines forgive me!”Can she, the ultimate villainess, capture the forgiveness of the very women she was meant to destroy? Or will the cursed System, and fate itself, force her to chase after love?

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.