Mr.CEO Looks Exactly the Same as My Son! - Chapter 69: Roll Back to Me

_ _ _ MXFXF relationship. Please read the note_______She was married to a wealthy alpha when she was 20.She was forced to live as a widow at the age of 21 despite her husband being alive and well.Anabella lived her life suppressing her emotions and what she felt, all for the sake of her family. Her parents sold her off to secure a future for their Alpha son, while the family she got married into was not ready to accept her.Her husband hated her, his gaze searching for someone else among the crowd. And her son-in-law sought the image of his mother in someone else, not giving her a chance even to get close.Life was not...great. So, Anabella decided to end it all and run away.If she were going to live as a widow, despite her marriage, then she would make the best of it and ensure that she would not have to repress herself.After all, even if she was married, Anabella was not marked. And for some, that was enough reason to accept and welcome her to her new life.......MXFXF relationship. Female alphas are futas, so come in expecting thatIt will have yuri and a lot of R18 content. You have been warned beforehand

The nascent Chaos had just been carved out, and the barren void welcomed the souls from the Otherworld.As the first soul in the Chaos World, Laine automatically became the God of Spirituality.However, divine power stems from Divine Power, and the existence of spirituality was insignificant; thus, the newly born Laine was extremely weak.With no other choice, to avoid being overturned by the torrents of fate, Laine had to rely on himself.He carved out realms, and birthed lives belonging solely to spirituality.He created sequences, scattering the steps to deification.He wove the Magic Net, enveloping the sky, the oceans, and the land.When the bell of dusk sounded, I raised my divine seat and proclaimed to all beings from the pinnacle of the Spirit Realm:There are two facets to the world, the material and the spiritual.The material belongs to the gods, and the spiritual belongs to me, such is the ultimate truth of all things.

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

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