Villain Reborn: Netori Harem in an Erotic RPG! - Chapter 115 Chater 37: I Will Support You

The romance between young Ronan Silverback and his fated mate Lucien Clearwater ended before it had the chance to bloom. Since they were both in line to become Alphas of their packs and neither of them was willing to step back to be with each other, Ronan ended up rejecting Lucien and ending their fated mate connection.

Seven years later, Alpha Ronan Silverback happened to meet Lucien Clearwater again. The latter not only was not the Alpha of his pack, but he also ended up accepting the affection of the Alpha of Ronan’s rival pack.

“We have broken up,” Lucien reminded Ronan. “Seven years ago, if you recall.”

“You are mine, Lucien Clearwater,” Ronan declared with a husky voice. “In this life or any life, you can only be mine. I will not let anyone else touch you.”

Warning : Mature content, genre-typical violence and sexual content. There is a mention of miscarriage. A lot of drama. Naturally it will end in a Happy Ending.

[Warning: Mature Content R-18]Lots of Melons. Only NTR Netori - No Netorare.Alex was nineteen, a college student, and apparently the universe decided to curse him… with a system.[MILF Paradise System Activated][Notification: Nearby MILF detected][Alert: Desire levels rising][Ding! System online]Every MILF in his neighborhood was hopelessly drawn to him. Every glance, every brush of skin, every accidental touch made them want… more. And trust him, more was exactly what they were going to get.He got caught hooking up with his neighbor’s wife because of it. His parents kicked him out. And now? He was moving into the ultimate hotspot for horny, desperate MILFs: the infamous MILF Apartments.With the system buzzing in his head constantly, every MILF he met was a temptation he couldn’t ignore. Every encounter was a test of control… though control was the last thing he had. From the blonde bombshell next door in her soft maxi dress, to the yoga instructor with a killer ass… he was living in a paradise of desire. The system wasn’t subtle. It was relentless. It was teasing him. It was daring him. And it was making sure he was constantly… busy.Welcome to the MILF Paradise System.

They call him Ghost.A name whispered in fear across warzones, black markets, and underworld circles.To the world, he's a phantom—a faceless mercenary who leaves no trace but bodies in his wake.To his enemies, he’s a death sentence.To his brothers-in-arms in Graveyard, he’s family.But to himself... he's a haunted man searching for a past stolen in gunfire and smoke.After a flawless mission deep in the Eastern Province, Ghost returns to the hidden forest base he's called home for sixteen years. Yet the victory is short-lived. His foster father, the commander delivers an unexpected order:“That was your last mission.”Now, Ghost—real name Miles Sterling—must step out of the shadows of war and into a world he’s never known. Guided only by a scarred letter, a fading memory, and the voice of a woman he hasn’t seen since the day everything was taken from him.But war forged more than his body and name.Behind the mask, behind the scars, Miles has another secret.One he’s kept hidden even from his brothers in arms.He’s not just a weapon.He’s a ghost with a fortune—a hidden empire he built in silence, across borders and black markets, forged in strategy and blood.A man of many names, and many shadows.Beneath the bullets, tattoos, and silence lies a truth buried in ashes.And Ghost is about to dig it up—one letter, one enemy, one memory at a time.

Life isn’t dramatic.

Takasugi Shinsaku once mentioned, “The mind to bring interest to an otherwise uninteresting world”, but if you’ll let me have my say, “An otherwise uninteresting world is also interesting”.

The world is just right with this level of boredom.

That is the conclusion to the results of my, Kagoshima Akira’s seventeen years of lived experience.

It’s not like anything’s ever going to happen.

I mean.

Witches from other worlds,

and cyber soldiers paying a visit from the future,

and psychics fighting under the instruction of research institutions

don’t exist, after all.