I Became a Vicious Supporting Role in the '70s - Chapter 367: What Right Does He Have?

“I’m sure we’ve all had that weird kid in our class.”“You know, the one everyone avoids like the plague.”“The moron who always comes to school with messy black hair, torn-up clothes, and so many bruises on their body it looks like they were mauled by a bear.”“I know that kid well—”“Because I’m him.”[DING!][YOU HAVE AWAKENED YOUR BLACKSMITH SYSTEM]“Blacksmith system? What the fuck is that?”It’s the power to forge.The power to create weapons that can split the heavens themselves.Weapons that can challenge gods, rewrite fate, and reduce galaxies to dust.Weapons that can cut through time and space.With the Blacksmith System… you have the power of creation.Do you accept?[Y/N]

[MATURE CONTENT WARNING: 18+ ONLY. Contains explicit smut, omegaverse, knotting, and mpreg.]“Fuck, still so tight.”That's the first thing I hear after dying.Not a heavenly choir, not a wise guide explaining the mechanics of reincarnation, just a voice like dark honey and broken glass, breath scorching hot against my neck, and a body that absolutely isn't mine rolling its hips back like it has no objections whatsoever to what's happening to it.I have objections, so many objections.My body has apparently decided to hold a separate meeting without me.I was twenty-eight, overworked to the point of literal death, and had never so much as kissed anyone seriously. None of that seems to matter to the omega body I've just woken up in.. currently making desperate, broken sounds into expensive silk sheets, trembling around a knot that shouldn't feel this good, this full, this.. right, while my actual mind is still standing in the corner going what the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK???By the time I finally see his face, it's far too late for dignity. Gray eyes cold as a winter storm, features sharp enough to cut, the kind of beautiful that doesn't ask permission before it ruins you.It gets so much worse when I learn his name.Wuchen Bael, my sister's fiance, the man who looked me dead in the eye afterward and said, without blinking..“Round two?”And I haven't even gotten to the part where I find out I'm pregnant.

Weary reader, it is an honor that you have chosen this book amidst the heavy, dim library.Regrettably, this book is unwell.Your fingers should be able to feel the raised growths on the surface of its cover,Words written in bygone days are like parasites rooted in the pages, hoping for someone to observe their wriggling,To feel, to decipher, to touch the essence of this ailing story.If you insist on borrowing this book, please make sure to regularly check your own physical condition.