MTL - After Being Marked By the Picked Milk A - Chapter 30 sleeping in sister's bed

She was a famous assassin who had killed important figures, but ironically, she was killed by her own lover.And when she thought she was dead, it turned out she was occupying the soul of a young girl who was tricked by her own family.'Because I have been reborn, I will take revenge on the people who planned my murder and also teach a lesson to the people who underestimated the girl whose soul I reside in!'However, things become complicated when she has to marry a cold man, whom she spent the night with.

Ren Zhu: Quiet! Quiet! Look at the blackboard! I’m going to start teaching!

Bear child 1 [1]: Hahaha! Who is this weak chicken!

Bear child 2: May as well dance than listen to class. Why start the class!

Fake good child: Sit upright.

Ren Zhu: ……

Bear child 1: You received the class teacher’s quiet gaze x 1. Physical strength -500. Entered the weak state!

Bear child 2: You received the class teacher’s deep gaze x 1. Intelligence -50. Entered the dumb state!

Fake good child: You received the class teacher’s gratified gaze x 1. Intelligence and physical strength +50. Entered the excited state.

Ren Zhu: My goal is to teach and educate people, and bring love to every bear child. Thank you.

[1] 熊孩子 – literally translates to ‘bear child’. The term is used to address mischievous children.

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To Producers, the two of them couldn’t be more drastically different voice actors.

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.”