Springtime Farming: A Happy Wife At Home - Chapter 141 - 141 Family

The “S-rank Hero Factory” that raised 1,000 S-rank heroes.

The graduates’ manufacturing machine.

The strongest support.

These are all words that refer to me. But could this actually be the world of that game?

_ _ _ _ MXFXF relationship. Please read the note. Please add it to the collection then and support me. All feedback will be appreciated. Check my profile for more workShe was not the heiress, the eldest, or the youngest. She just existed in the family, keeping her head down and letting herself wash away until she could leave.“I tried standing out, staying quiet, and even voicing my thoughts. But no matter what I do, I am never acknowledged. Does my existence even matter? After all, it's not like anyone in this family even likes me.”Rika Goodwill was the shame of her family. Born the middle 'beta' child of a prominent Alpha-Omega couple, it was natural for her to be neglected compared to her perfect Alpha brother and sweet Omega sister.Her situation outside of her family was no better. People avoided her because of her mafia family and judged her nature without a second thought.Her only friends were the 'sweetheart couple of the century'. But Rika had somehow become a third wheel between their bickering and frequent breakups.Over the course of her 17-year-old life, Rika had come to accept her fate and move on. After all, no amount of complaining would ever change her situation of being a third wheel.Collage was supposed to be her big break. It was supposed to be the time Rika had for herself, where she could feel like herself, so she applied for a place where no one knew her.This was supposed to be her lucky break! Rika was supposed to get away from her worsening life.But neither her family nor her 'friends' were ready to let her go, and it did not take long for her peaceful life to turn sour.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”