Good Morning, Mister Dragon! (WN) - Chapter 161 - This Is Pre-Collected Tuition Fees

Caelen died doing what he loved most: playing survival games non-stop like a sleep-deprived goblin. Unfortunately, dying in your chair from gaming overload isn’t exactly what you’d call a dignified exit. Even God laughed at him.But lucky for Caelen, or maybe unlucky, he gets a second chance in the world of his favorite survival game. It’s a brutal fantasy realm full of monsters, magic, swords… and absolutely zero indoor plumbing.Armed with only a stone pickaxe, a limited-use “Google Brain” search skill, and the stubbornness of a man who once built a Minecraft mansion out of dirt, Caelen sets out to survive. But surviving isn’t enough he wants to upgrade the world. Electricity? Toilets? Toasted bread? Why not all three?As he fends off nighttime horrors, awkwardly crafts furniture, and tries to avoid becoming monster chow, Caelen has one mission: bring modern convenience to a medieval world, one ridiculous invention at a time.And maybe, just maybe… not die again in a chair.[System Notes:No Ntr, No Yuri(gl), No Yaoi(bl)]

“Did you know? I was once the most powerful person in the world, undefeatable even by the gods. If only I can retrieve my body, I could resurrect once again.”“So what?”“So... who has hidden my corpse!”

Kusumi Chiharu gets a message one day that he has been selected as a Monster Tamer, and he is prompted to select his first partner. He thinks little of the message until he receives a giant package the following day. He assumes it’s the porn books he ordered, but the huge box ends up containing the unconscious body of a near-naked girl! She’s a ghoul named Zonmi, who intends to fight beside him as his partner.

However, it turns out that other hot girls at his mostly-male high school are also magical entities, and Zonmi may not be the only one who wants to fight by his side!

It was understood that this was a capitalist country, where the possession of the greatest amount of capital determined to whom the nation effectively belonged.The smile that had been resting on William Sheffield’s face was abruptly erased as his expression turned cold. In a tone laced with determination, it was demanded by him that the police be contacted immediately so that they could crush those who stood in their way. The reasoning behind his words seemed clear: if such actions had been taken before by someone like Rockefeller, then why should it not also be possible for Sheffield?A sense of irony hung in the air as the sentiment was expressed—this was America, where each day seemed to unfold as though it were part of an ongoing shootout, with battles fought not just with guns but with power, influence, and wealth.