MTL - Black Bellied President Dotes on Wife - Chapter 1629 Difficult

When a Demonic Assault occurs, most people stuck inside of a Fracture end up hiding inside of a bunker in the hopes that they don’t end up killed by a demon.

Others might even hope for the slightest possible chance at signing a contract with a spirit and becoming a Guardian.

So when Scarlet was caught in a Fracture, the last thing she expected was to become a demon herself.

Exactly two centuries ago, humanity was struck with their very first Demonic Assault.

The skies above the capital of the US, shattering as if made of glass; demons of all kinds appearing out of nowhere; and no way to effectively stop them before the end of the Assault.

On the brink of devastation, some of the humans managed to find themselves offered a contract whilst inside of a Fracture. One bringing a chance at power, fame, and fortune.

Now, long after every nation of the world joined together to form the Terran Republic, Scarlet finds herself stuck trying to find a university from the Republic’s capital that will accept someone from a lower tier city into their midst.

But, as if that wasn’t already enough trouble for one person to bear, she somehow ends up stuck in one of the Fractures of a Demonic Assault while visiting her father figure’s company building.

However, she doesn't perish in the darkness and instead awakens her dormant bloodline as a noble demon.

A Blood Lycan.

Turns out she had been a demon all along and had been born for the apocalypse.

What happens when, in the midst of struggling to keep up with life, you suddenly discover that you were a princess in a past life? Now, you're just a waitress with a drunken mother and a pile of bills to pay. But deep down, you know one thing: you’ll find the stupid jerk responsible for ending your royal life, no matter what it takes.Alexia POV:Then there are the spoiled, narcissistic rich jerks who think their daddy's car gives them a free pass to treat women like objects. Not today, Satan. These guys are like walking perfume ads with egos bigger than their bank accounts. I swear, they should just marry themselves—they're clearly their own type.When one of those jerks lands at my table, I can smell the entitlement from a mile away. I don't even wait for the inevitable sleazy pickup line or the “accidental” brush of their hand against mine. Nope. I pawn them off on one of the other waiters faster than you can say “unpaid rent.”

The world I transmigrated into was a dark fantasy game universe, devoid of hope or dreams.Doesn’t feel like it at all, though.

It wasn’t even malicious criticism.I just gave feedback in the tone I was asked to.So why the hell did I, the writer who just wanted to help a junior, possess this body of the prospective groom… a villain, who died in the hands of the heroine on their wedding night?