Modern Traveler - Chapter 107. Presidential Suite

They stole his future and crippled his body. Now, he’ll rewrite the history in blood.Damon was on the verge of greatness—first in line to claim Bloodreign, the legendary artifact said to grant unmatched power in Earth Online, the world’s first fully immersive VR game. But his best friend betrayed him, stealing the item, and leaving Damon broken, crippled and nearly deleted. Kicked from the guild, mocked by the community, and trapped in a weak, crippled body, he was forgotten until his last desperate attempt somehow brought him back in time to the day when it all began.Now Damon was back and he knew what he was going after.A hidden lineage. A cursed class. A bloodline sealed since the dawn of the multiverse.Last time he played fair. Last time he trusted. This time he would hunt and devour. With years of knowledge of every exploit, every secret quest, every bugged mechanic, he will climb straight to the top. Armed with the blood of the first Vampire King, he was an apex predator now who stood at the very top.However, unbeknownst to him, a catastrophe lurks in the shadows. Damon finds out that the game itself might not be as simple as it seemed and the entire future of the humanity might depend on this game.

Song Xuanhe transmigrated into a book called “The President’s Seven Boyfriends”. He became the President’s cannon fodder ex-boyfriend, Song Xuanhe.

The Song Xuanhe in the book: 180 cm tall, so attractive he would trump over even the hottest celebrities, three generations of family in business–a very appropriate rich third generation.

It wasn’t a loss to transmigrate into this kind of person. It was just that this was a rebirth story.

The Song Xuanhe in the book abused the male lead 800 times and had even indirectly caused the male lead’s death. Faced with the reborn blackened male lead, his fate was obvious–not only did he reach rock bottom, he even died without an intact corpse.

Right now, he had become the cannon fodder ex-boyfriend that was foreordained to die without an intact corpse.

——

System: Don’t you think that the male lead has been a bit strange recently? It’s like he’s plotting something in the dark.

Song Xuanhe: Plotting how to kill me?

System: No, plotting how to eat you.

——

Song Xuanhe, who was lying on the bed with an aching waist, pained back and legs suffering from cramps, cursed the System 800 times–what happened to the male lead being a shou?!

Emphasis: Xiao Yuanmu is the gong! Xiao Yuanmu is the gong! Xiao Yuanmu is the gong! Moreover, the tycoon has always been a gong! Spoilers only up to here!

- Description from Novelupdates

Japan – National News BroadcastThe polished news anchor sat upright, her gaze sharp as she adjusted the stack of papers before her. The newsroom behind her hummed with quiet urgency, the weight of the moment settling over the broadcast.“Authorities are baffled by a sudden and unexplained surge in sleep-related deaths across Japan,” she began, her voice steady yet tense. “More and more citizens are passing away in their sleep without any prior health concerns. Experts are working tirelessly to determine the cause, but no clear explanation has emerged. Authorities urge the public to remain vigilant and report any unusual symptoms before bedtime.”A graphic appeared, displaying the spike in fatalities over the past month. Behind her, unsettling photographs flickered across the screen—blurred images of individuals found in their beds, their faces frozen in expressions of terror.The anchor’s tone shifted. “Health officials recommend citizens avoid excessive fatigue and maintain healthy sleep habits. More updates will follow as investigations continue.”---United States – Paranormal PodcastIn a dimly lit podcast studio, the host leaned forward, his eyes wide with curiosity. Across from him, a rugged man in a worn flannel shirt, gripping a faded photograph in one hand and a beer can in the other, leaned back in his chair.“So, you're telling me you saw this creature firsthand?” the host asked, clearly intrigued.The man scoffed, shaking his head. “Damn right, I did. Ugly thing had wings bigger than my body—slow but sneaky. Thought it could steal my pigs again, but I was ready this time—camera in one hand, shotgun in the other.”He slammed the table for emphasis, then shoved the blurry image toward the host. The photograph depicted a small, red-skinned humanoid figure with large, bat-like wings, its eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.“Spit, the thing didn’t know what hit it when I fired!” the man chuckled, his voice full of excitement.The host held up the picture to the live chat. “Alright, what do you think? Mothman? Demon? Or is our friend here just seeing things?”The chat exploded with theories—some skeptical, others eager for the investigation to continue.---China – Liangyuan Street MarketSurveillance footage from a bustling night market in China captured a chilling scene. A woman in a red qipao walked gracefully through the crowd, her figure striking in the soft glow of lanterns.Suddenly, she paused. Her body flickered—like a glitch in a video—before vanishing completely, as though she had never existed.The footage zoomed in, replaying in slow motion. In the final frame before she disappeared, her face distorted unnaturally, her eyes hollow and empty.The screen cut abruptly to black.

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.