His Perfect Ex Returns: The Heiress Walks Away to Her Real Prince - Chapter 53: Adrian Jennings’s Admirer

For twenty years since his soul had transmigrated, Bailuo thought this was an ordinary world, until one day, a black leather book appeared in his mind.“Is there magic in this world?”Facing Bailuo’s question, his uncle remained unwavering as he said, “No.”“But there are miracles.”“What are miracles?”“A sword that can release flames, a pot that can pour out gold, a beautiful girl grown from a fruit.”The uncle said, “Controlling the mist, bringing the storm, commanding the thunder.”“Magic!”Bailuo raised his hand and pointed, “This is definitely magic!”“No.”His uncle said, “These are truly miracles.”Years later, when Bailuo looked upon the nation he had built with his own hands, that magnificent and majestic sight, he agreed with what his uncle had said all those years ago, “This is a miracle…”

The corridor was dark. Selene moved fast, barefoot against the cold stone, her heart thundering in her chest. She didn’t know how they’d gotten so close, how he had.But the moment she turned the corner, he was there, and he slammed her back against the wall.Her gasp was muffled by a rough hand clamping over her mouth. The other braced beside her head as his body caged hers completely. Heat rolled off him like a furnace. His scent hit her nose, faintly familiar. Like burnt cedar, cold steel, and storm.He leaned in, his voice a ragged whisper by her ear.“You’re Selene... my Selene.”Her blood ran cold. Her heart rebelled against her chest, trying to escape.“I’m not,” she hissed through gritted teeth. “You’re mistaken.”His fingers traced the curve of her jaw like he was trying to memorize it. “It’s you. I’d know your soul even if the world burned it from your bones.”“You’re mad,” she spat.But he suddenly dipped his mouth to kiss her hard, to confirm that it was really her.***Selene was the daughter of the cruel Alpha who ruled Moonveil through fear. Years ago, he wiped out an entire pack just to rise to power. But he made one mistake...he left behind four orphaned boys.Those boys returned as Alphas. They are stronger, colder and out for revenge.They took everything...his land, his title, and finally... his life. Selene was only seventeen at the time. She had no idea what her father had done. But that didn’t matter. To them, she was guilty by blood.They didn’t kill her. No. They did something worse.They marked her as a slave.In their world, even omegas had rights. Slaves had none. She became nothing more than property.But Selene still had hope. On her eighteenth birthday, like every werewolf, she expected her wolf to awaken. It was supposed to be the start of her new life.Instead, it turned into a nightmare.Her wolf never came. Her body remained cold and silent. And then… the bond appeared. She was mated to all four of them.The very Alphas who hated her.The ones who owned her.But the truth is Selene was never a wolf to begin with.As her body withers under the weight of the bond, a darker truth surfaces. She is not just a slave… she is the last living witch, born of the very bloodline werewolves have hunted for generations.Now, her enemies wear the mark of her mates...And the witch they thought they broke may be the one who burns them all.

Somebody once told a joke.A man ran in place all his life. He worked a job he didn't love for people he couldn't stand. But at the end of the day, the number in his bank account went up.That man got a second chance at life. He woke up in another world, full of adventures and romances and monsters and gods. And floating above his head he saw the number “1”. So what did he say?“Gosh I better make the number go up.”Not today. Not for this old soul. Reborn as a beast of battle meant to live a short life and die screaming, Garek refuses. He puts the madness of skills and levels behind him and sets out to found a little farmstead. He grows crops. Maybe someday he'll get a pig, and have bacon.It's a shame the world won't let him be. It's a shame that the warmongers and level-grinders hate nothing more than a soul at peace.He put down his sword for a plowshare, but when trouble comes calling, he'll pick it up again.