The Deceitful One - Chapter 247 Telephone Company

“Love Tripped Into My Room: I Just Wanted Peace, Not Panties”Kaito Tenma just wanted a normal life. Wake up, eat toast, avoid drama, and maybe—just maybe—confess to his beautiful, blunt childhood friend, Riko.But fate sucker-punches that dream into space when a half-naked girl crashes through his ceiling and declares his room as her new home. Now he’s living with Yuna, a mysterious (and dangerously clingy) bombshell who thinks clothing is optional and personal space is a myth.From lewd accidents to jealousy-fueled misunderstandings, Kaito’s life spirals into a wild, hilarious mess of high school chaos, horny misunderstandings, and girls who seem way too interested in ruining his peace.He didn’t ask for a harem. He didn’t ask for trouble. But trouble keeps tripping into his life—one girl at a time.

Clara Vance had it all.Millions of followers, a beauty empire built on glamour, and a life curated for the camera. But a lost bet with her mother sends her away from a marvelous weekend trip to Mykonos and into the dusty attic of her family’s decaying ancestral manor.The catch was her inheritance. Her task? A dreary clear-out. Her discovery? A centuries-old diary belonging to her great-grandmother, Eleanor Thorne.The ink tells a story of a forgotten history. Eleanor’s forbidden obsession with her guardian and step-uncle, Casimir Guggenheim, a ruthless railroad tycoon with a heart of stone.But when Clara touches the tear-stained pages, the scent of crushed gardenias doesn’t just fill the room, it drags her back to 1879.Trapped in Eleanor’s corseted body, Clara finds herself under the roof of the very man who haunted the diary. To the world, Casimir is a cold, untouchable magnate. To Clara, he’s a puzzle she’s determined to break.The problem? Clara isn’t the timid, fragile girl Casimir remembers. She’s a 21st-century It Girl with no filter, a strategic mind for business, a total lack of respect for Gilded Age propriety and a defiance waiting for trouble to happen. While the original Eleanor was a victim of her station, Clara is ready to burn the cage down.As Clara navigates a world where a single misstep means ruin, scheming relatives see her as a pawn, and a powerful suitor sees her as nothing but a business merger. She realizes the history books were wrong.Rewriting Eleanor’s tragic end is dangerous, especially when she starts falling for the man she was never supposed to have.History says they’re a tragedy. Clara says history is about to get a makeover.

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.”

After transmigrating into a SF (Science Fiction) novel and enduring cruel hardships, I ascended to the throne as the Emperor of the Galactic Empire.[Welcome to the Integrated Dimensional Community.]As the community’s Lone SF Transmigrator, I unleashed the poison of new cultures on the uncivilized primitives of the Otherworlds.-Let there be light. To judge the horde of evil, the Apostle of the Goddess sent down a Graviton Surge. Thus, in that place was light along with a massive explosion…-The Grand Duke of the North has shown great interest in your Heattech…-I, as a Namgung, am thankful for the grace akin to the vast sea provided by the Great Hero. By virtue of the Vibroblade bestowed by the Great Hero, the nefarious Demonic Cult has…It seems like these Otherworlders can’t get their sh*t together.