My Werewolf System - Chapter 138: What's his story?

This is a game that surpasses dimensions.

Ye Feng had mutated, his body can obtain the corresponding superpower according to the information he heard!

His deskmate, Wang Qiang: “If only I had an expert hacker as a friend, that’ll be great!”

Computer amateur Ye Feng immediately turned into an expert hacker. Anywhere with the Internet was his territory!

Wang Qiang: “Brother Feng, do you want to learn martial arts?”

The moment he said that, Ye Feng had a burst of strength and became a martial arts grandmaster! Girlfriend: “Ye Feng, do you know how to drive?”

Ye Feng was about to say ‘no’ but in the end, countless pieces of information flooded his mind and he immediately became a veteran driver! …

“Please stop talking, everyone!”

In less than a year, Ye Feng was omnipotent. He had a look of distress, feeling like he’s not even a human being but an omnipotent almighty expert!

This book is also called “Am I really a human being”, “I really don’t want to be omnipotent” and “Why is it so hard to not be an expert ah”…

“You shouldn’t have crossed this line, Elisha, if you didn’t want it to be like this.”

A sturdy arm wrapped around her swaying body. Her head became hazy and an intentional hot sweet sigh was pulled out of her.

‘How the hell did I get myself in this situation—’

Elisha recalled. This never happened before.

‘Yeah, I remember.’

Her future in which she would become the fake concubine to a demonic man from the same family, and would be eaten to death—even down to her bone marrow. A future in which the Cartier ducal family is embroiled in a power struggle and fragmented.

To avoid that future, Elisha threw herself at Lucerne, the archrival of her former life.

Yeah. There was no problem. She knew this man, before and after her regression. She already knew he was the most notorious maniac in the Empire.

20-year-old Elisha owes 30,000 gold coins (about 15 billion won in Korean currency or around 15 million in USD).

After going back in time, in order to avoid a hellish life because of debt, she becomes the most capable illegitimate child in the world and visits Lucerne, the archenemy of her master.

“What do you want from me?”

“Please lend me some money. And… make me your subordinate. I’ll give you all the information I have.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’ll give myself up as collateral.”

Lucerne listened to Elisha and watched her quietly.

“Okay. But I decide how to deal with the collateral.”

“…….”

“First of all, marry me.”

“…… huh?”

Elisha didn’t expect it either. That her information transaction would become a marriage contract.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.