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... >

Very comfortable.

Lu Ya's eyelashes fluttered, she looked at Sang Qingxu with a serious face, she didn't think about anything in her mind, only the feeling in her palm became clearer.

It didn't last long after blowing, perhaps only ten seconds, before Sang Qingxu stopped.

Sang Qingxu raised his eyes?, raised his eyebrows, and said softly, "Does it still hurt?"

Lu Ya curled up her fingers, took her hand back, and answered uncomfortably: "It doesn't hurt anymore."< ...

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“I, Eddie Edward, had reincarnated into a world of magic and became the single child of Duke Eddie from the Lancamdo Kingdom.

Fortunately, I was given a system that could collect energy from magical items and turn them into attribute points, skill points, and bloodline points to enhance myself. Knowing that this is a world full of danger and cruelty, I’d decided to become stronger with the help of the system.

On a day like any other, I was given a personal maid. The new maid was acting strangely, but I paid no attention to her weird personality because she was loyal to me.

As days passed by, I began to have more maids around me. However, all of them were strange.

It wasn’t until later I noticed that the maids would leave at night and return reeking of blood.

Naturally, I was curious, but I’d never questioned them as they were my personal maids.

To become stronger, I, Eddie Edward, continued to grow using the system to be not threatened by others in the future.

Until a fateful day…

I learned something important. One of my personal maids was a Fallen Angel?

And the other one was the Lady of the Dark that was being pursued by the Holy Church?

Not only that, but I also heard some of my maids being addressed as the Lord of the Dard?

The Ominous Witch?

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Why did their names sound like they were some antagonists of a novel?

Could it be that all of my personal maids were actually the bad guys of the world I was in?

Not long after that, I was now a wanted person in the Lancamdo Kingdom? Some even began to hail me as the Lord of Evil?

Eddie Edward let out a deep sigh. “Fine. Looks like I can drop the act now.”

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“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.

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“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?”

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[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

……………………………………………………………

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