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... went away peacefully.

In the corridor, individual compartment cabins lined up side by side. Next to Nephira's compartment cabin was Suzuki's, and next to that was Excella's. After confirming that Suzuki had entered his own separate cabin, Nephira also entered hers.

It is a simple room with a bed, as well as a desk and chair in a corner. Nephira still stood near the door, remembering the incident between Duma and Suzuki.

She tried to act composed, but inside, Nephira was ...

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I heard that this year there aren’t enough dorm rooms for the girls at school, so a few of them have had to move into the boys’ dorms.

A group of testosterone-fueled guys suddenly become quiet.

They no longer hang their underwear and socks out to dry in the hallway, walk softly, and speak in hushed tones. Everyone is on edge, afraid of scaring off the new girls in their dorm.

One night, Bo Yan just finished showering and walked out of the communal bathroom. He carried a basin in his left hand and wore CK boxers that showed off his six-pack abs.

At the entrance to his dorm room, he saw a girl in a lace nightgown.

Jin Xi stared at his abs and nervously asked, “Excuse me, I’m from the dormitory across the hall. Could you help us set up the router?”

“Sure,” Bo Yan said, quietly moving the basin from his side to the front.

A carefree, silly story about a playboy and an energetic, lovely fairy.

I’ll conquer new territories for you and draw boundaries to keep you safe.

[This is a lighthearted and silly story, don’t take it too seriously.]

The Kind of EvilChapter 77: A Contender. (End of Volume 1)
 
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FantasyActionAdventureReincarnation

Kyros was no hero—nor was he a villain. A pragmatist to the core, he turned Earth into a chessboard of chaos, bending nations and empires to his will before meeting his end. But death was only the beginning. The Devil intervened, pulling Kyros into Hell with an irresistible proposition: a second chance at life in a world far removed from Earth—a world named Neva.In this fantastical realm of knights, nobility, magic, and divine power, Kyros becomes the key piece in a wager between God and the Devil. Reborn as Rasmus Blackheart, a disgraced young noble, his task is clear: unleash chaos and topple the order of Neva, just as he did on Earth. But the Devil has added a twist to the game—he’ll serve as Rasmus’s companion, not as a guide but as a mischievous, manipulative force, more likely to hinder than help.Navigating a world brimming with intrigue and divine interference, Rasmus must survive, scheme, and rise from ruin to reshape Neva in his image. Will his cunning be enough to outwit his foes—and his so-called ally—or will this chaotic partnership lead to his downfall?

MTL - The County Magistrate is Not Slag Very AChapter 70
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Also known as: Modern Alpha dressed as an ancient scumbag
Song Boxue woke up and read an ancient sadomasochistic text.
The original hostess disguised herself as a man and cheated money and sex. She was the cannon fodder fiancé of the hostess Jiang Fanyin, and she was a small county magistrate who was corrupt.
When Jiang Fanyin was most helpless, the small magistrate not only ruined Jiang Fanyin’s innocence, but also drove her out without a penny.
Later, Jiang Fanyin was living on the street and was rescued by the male protagonist. With the help of the male protagonist, he regained everything and broke the legs of the small county magistrate.
Song Boxue: “…” Her legs are a little weak.
When she looked up, she saw Jiang Fanyin who was tied up with five flowers.
Is this a plot that has already progressed to the point of destroying people’s innocence?
Song Boxue: ! Let go now.
After letting people go, Song Boxue immediately decided to move, and it was best to stay away from Jiang Fanyin.
Run quickly, if you run slowly, your legs will not be protected!
Unexpectedly, the fever period came suddenly…
In a trance, she smelled the faint tea fragrance, fresh and sultry.
When he woke up, Song Boxue looked at Jiang Fanyin, whose neck was covered with red marks! ! Can I still save my legs when I run now?
small theater~~
Song Boxue: This official is ill, and his illness is not serious.
Jiang Fanyin: Oh, if you are ill, quickly treat it.
Song Boxue: I want to kiss you when I get sick.
Jiang Fanyin: Oh, continue to be sick.

1. A has no extra organs and has a child.
2. The writing is white, slow and sweet.
3. There are many private settings, which are purely fictitious.
Finally: Thank you for your support, hold tight, and turn around~

Content tags: travel through time and space, wear a book, disguise as a man, ancient history, main attack
Search keywords: protagonist: Song Boxue, Jiang Fanyin ┃ supporting role: not yet ┃ others:

- Description from novelbuddy

The Omnistore SystemChapter 492: Equally embarrassing regalia (R-18)
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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.

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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