Harem Developing Villain - Chapter 10: Xia Qingwu’s Kiss

Lin Yan is a professional car racer who fell from grace after her sister set her up. She becomes an actress for the sake of her boyfriend, who later cheats on her with her sister. Her life, career and relationships reach a slump.

Enter Pei Yucheng, the president of the JM corporation—a multinational conglomerate. He is unfathomable, cold and aloof. At random, he would mysteriously lose control of himself, and Lin Yan is the only one who is able to calm him down. The first time she meets him, she feels an indescribable fear deep within her soul. Unbeknownst to her, they had met each other a long time ago, but she had chosen to forget him…

Soon, something puzzling and strange begins to happen to her. Occasionally, she loses consciousness and ends up in Pei Yucheng’s room the next day, completely unaware of how she ended up there. She suspects that something has possessed her…

“When I opened my eyes, I found myself as a character in a game. It was bewildering, but I thought it was worth a try. That was until I saw the skill given to me. It was [Opening Eyes], with no abilities whatsoever.”The story starts with the MC playing a game that is “Very Difficult”, so difficult, in fact, that no one has ever managed to kill the last boss. After 18 years of playing and, having the best attempt be at 30% of the last boss’s HP, he decides to try out a character that he never used.This character was the Slit-Eyed character. It had garbage stats and garbage traits. But, since the MC had ran out of options with every other character, he was trying to see if he could find any secrets with this new character. So he puts in his name ‘Zero’ and presses play… Only to find himself inside the game, as the Slit-Eyed character.

“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.