Dressed As the Heart of a Paranoid Boss - Chapter 946: Werewolves don’t behave

I put all the warning tags to give myself creative freedom, but the story isn't filled with excessive gore or swearing.This is my first time writing other than for school projects. The gender-bender tag is only for the beginning because I wanted to try writing from a female's perspective and needed an excuse for why my MC reads a little tomboyish. The gender-bender fades into the background over the first few chapters; please don't let the tag keep you from trying out my story.Synopsis:Second chances are rarely earned and even rarer given. Follow a new life in a new world where anything is possible. Our MC wakes up, stuck as a baby, needing to decide how she will live her new life. Let's see what future she can forge when hard work rewards her with status points and skill levels.Author's Note: I'm currently slowly going back and rewriting my earlier chapters, so if you're starting to read this for the first time, try not to be alarmed if the quality suddenly goes down after reading a few chapters. I started writing this story almost three years ago, and I think I've improved as a writer since then. I appreciate your understanding; enjoy.

Lee Jin Woo once lived a dismal life.
He lived pitifully on a day to day basis in his five-pyeon studio filled with mold.

Then, one day, he died in a sudden fire.

When he wakes up, he finds himself inside a novel.
But there’s just one issue…
He had become the novel’s villain!

Petite Princess VS Rough KhanOn their wedding day, Yelu Yan told Li Xianyun that apart from affection, he could provide her with endless wealth and honor.After the marriage, he indeed kept his promise, cherishing her in the palm of his hand.Little did he know, the more he cherished her, the deeper she burrowed into his heart, right to the very top.Not long after the political marriage with the Khitans, Li Xianyun gradually noticed earth-shattering changes around her:Initially, the commoners who disliked her began to worship her as a deity...The court officials accusing her of bewitching their lord were now pleading with her to consummate the marriage with the Khan...The most perplexing of all was her husband in name; wasn’t he the one who said he wouldn't give her emotional affection? Why was he always following her around?Little theater scene 1:One day, Yelu Yan cornered Li Xianyun against the wall.“Why are you avoiding this Khan?”“They say you might have taken a liking to your servant.”“Remove ‘might’, isn’t it obvious enough from how this Khan acts?”“But you said you wouldn’t give your servant emotional affection.”Yelu Yan held his forehead; he had indeed said too many foolish things.“The Han people always say that one should start a family and then establish a career; clearly, the two are not in conflict.”Little theater scene 2:The sun had risen high, yet Yelu Yan was still clinging to Li Xianyun.“Get up quickly, I have to leave. There are patients on the street waiting for my consultation, the good fields to the west need irrigation, the homestead plots in the east need measuring, and I have to oversee the silk reeling and dyeing... Uh...”“Your husband is a patient, don’t you care for him?”Li Xianyun looked at the man tough enough to rival ten bulls and was utterly speechless.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”