Mated to the Mad Lord - Chapter 211: Missing?

Brutality is my style of conduct! If you can't accept that, I'm ready to fight—that's who I am!Don't mess with me, otherwise, I won't mind teaching you the meaning of “The Return of the King”!!!

Yao Tang, the daughter of the Yao family who mistakenly exchanged at birth, was finally found.

Lothair is a serial killer who detest imperfection on human’s facial features, which resulted in him having a compulsory behavior of wanting to strip people’s faces.After he dies, he finds himself as Narcissus, a beautiful and adorable female NPC inside a state-of-the-art VRMMO world of the latest craze called Fallen Carcosa Online.But despite being a fantasy-filled game, the world feels strangely realistic.Too realistic, even.Game-like systems and magic exist but so do plagues, politics, economy, and the horror hidden in plain sight.When pried open, an actual human-like anatomy can be seen beyond the skin of the NPC’s face—with little to no censor.Everything feels too immersive.Except Narcissus, Lothair’s new identity.When Narcissus tried to scrape off the face of her new adorable body, she found an abyssal void with little to no end.This story marks the birth for the King in Yellow.Warning, this story contain: Male-to-Female Genderbend, GL/Yuri, Occasional Futa MC, Yanderes, Harem, Self-Cest.Follow the creative and attentive Narcissus, a nuanced former serial-killer who will gradually becomes stronger, experienced, maddening, horrifying, but also mature, wise, conflicted, and complex—in this near-endless journey.Where souls unsung and tears unshed.In the land of Lost Carcosa.

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”