Short, Light, Free - Chapter 187: Ghost Market I

Crossing to One Piece world, he became Roger’s younger brother.

Unexpectedly, Gol-D-Roger who was in his fifties had a teenage brother. But he was so weak.

Fortunately, at the age of sixteen, he actually found himself with a possession soul system.

He had attached to the master IP man, also to the White Phoenix and to Ge Nie with his strong ability of the Hundred Step Flying Sword.

If you think that he can only Purchase these? Then you’re wrong!

Pain, Itachi, Ichigo Kurosaki, as long as there is money, any soul can be Purchased.

- Description from Novelupdates

One day, in front of my eyes appeared a silver-haired Goddess.

What kind of bullsh*t is this woman spouting?

“…What?”

No, I’m not.

The female lead tormented scum without rest, and the male lead showered her with endless affection.Returning to the turning point of fate, she was determined to strike the supreme with her fists and kick the trash underfoot.Those who had once wronged her, deceived her, and taken advantage of her, brace yourselves for trembling!Watch him and her: not wasting their prime years, hand in hand, they compose a grand wedding!

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.