Genius of a Performing Arts High - Chapter 8.11 - Act 8: Lively 11

The Bootlicking Antagonist Wants to Survive, but Female Lead refuses to follow the plotOne car accident and I’m transported into a city power fantasy as the villain. As long as I survive until the grand finale, I can return to the real world with hefty rewards. But! These stunning beauties don’t go to serve as the protagonist’s harem, they surround me every day. Are they not satisfied with how slowly I’m dying? Stop wearing stockings, stop wearing uniforms, what’s with all of you trying to seduce me? To find Long Aotian! Since destiny is in my hands, I might as well challenge the protagonist directly! Who’s the protagonist, damn it, who knows!

After dying in the apocalypse, Su Jin was given a second chance as she was reborn into her former self just one month before the beginning of the end. Knowing that the world was about to fall apart, she started stockpiling everything she could. Her family started to think that she had gone crazy after her marriage and was ready to gang up to ruin the trashy husband. However, as the world suddenly changed around them, their air tickets and money were rendered useless and they now understood just how much foresight their beloved Su Jin had this whole time. As they continued to fight for survival, Su Jin’s husband scoured the city with several better-looking team members. One of them groaned while trudging ahead, This is the 212th time we’ve lost our way since the team leader began his search for his wife…

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.”

Bro, I mean, I'm just a tad handsome, a bit skillful, and slightly crafty, that's all! Why do you all have to make my life difficult? This incessant pestering isn't the answer, is it?What? You'll marry no one else but me? No...you...how could you? Without even asking for my consent?