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... s secret out loud without any thoughts. He nodded towards Morgana and said: "Since Selene has found you, I think my business has been concluded. Thanks for rescuing me earlier. My friend and I will leave now. Little brat, take care of yourself."

Although Morgana's strength wasn't weak and she had built a considerable force, recruiting those helpless Mages from the Tripper class. Tron wasn't thinking of joining the team. He didn't want to complicate matters for himself.

"Brother T ...

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Q: How would you approach your target?

Tiger Tribe:
Jiang Yu (excited): “Cure him, give him medicine!”

Future Mecha:
Duan Jingzhe (at a loss): “… umm … feed him expired nutrients?”

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Donghao Yang (banter): “Follow nature’s example and flirt shamelessly.”

Next unlucky protagonist: “…”

This is a collection of three short stories in which each protagonist crosses to another world or is reborn.

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I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.