I Can Hear a Serial Killer's Voice in My Head - Chapter 11: The Third Case (2)

Lucien's last memory was skidding tires, blinding headlights, the sickening crunch of metal.But that wasn't the end.He lived his life and died an overworked and underpaid, but he rose as Lucian D’Aureville. Incumbent heir to House Aureville, one of the most powerful houses in the kingdom.However it wasn't as rosy as it seemed.His predecessor had been murdered by someone, and they wouldn't be happy to see Lucien alive.Follow along as Lucien navigates the complex and treacherous path of nobility and wealth as he rises to the top.

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)]

You, yes you! It's you! Why are you running? Run, keep running! Why don't you run anymore!Do you have an Otherworldly Affairs Office pass?And selling this world’s goods, did you pay the taxes?I don't care if you're the head of an Immortal Sect, put your hands on your head and squat by the wall! Prepare for inspection!

I am a female secretary of an overbearing president in a typical dog blood drama text.

The kind of person who doesn’t have a name at the end of the day, and could only be called “secretary”, one who wears a tight fitting black dress and a pair of 10cm high heels every day, running around in front of the president, humbly praying for the president’s attention, and hating the heroine.

In fact, I really don’t. If I like the president, I’ll be struck by lightning.

I’m getting more and more sick of the president lately. Except for the outstanding appearance that the author forced on him, this person is really useless from head to toe, low in EQ, and low in IQ.

A legendary business genius who is all-powerful, but he doesn’t even understand anything, chickens know more than him.

I had to reject all of his unreasonable demands every day, and on the way, teach him relevant knowledge of economic law and finance, and gradually…he became a master.

I’m so tired, I really want to quit my job.

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