MTL - Don’t Wait for Your Boyfriend in the Crematorium - Chapter 25 Gift

Modesty! Honesty! Compassion! Bravery! Justice! Sacrifice! Honor! Faith!He is a lich, yet he upholds the knightly spirit!He is a lich, yet he remains steadfast in his faith of light!“With a formidable enemy at hand, fearless and unobstructed! Daring and loyal, worthy of the Holy Spirit! Loyal and upright, willing to die unyielding! Protecting the weak, never going against heaven's principles!”Standing at the top of the world, no matter how great the storm, nothing can stop him from following the steps of the Holy Spirit! Not even the Holy Spirit!...This is a romantic legendary story of a chatty cat and a lich who dedicates his body and soul to the light!Yes, “romantic,” not deceiving you! That's just how it is!

Damien's life was ruined two decades ago by betrayal: his dearest friend Ethan and sister Serena betrayed him, leaving him impoverished and broken. Damien was consumed by vengeance and spent years rebuilding his kingdom, preparing to strike revenge.His plan is now being carried out: he sends his son Nate to seduce Ethan's daughter Evangeline, with the intention of breaking her heart and destroying her family. But as old secrets resurface, Nate discovers harsh facts about his father's betrayals, compelling him to doubt everything.Meanwhile, a shadow from Damien and Ethan's past, James, reappears with his own desire for vengeance, threatening to destroy both families in the concept of killing two birds with one stone.Betrayal by Love is a compelling story about love, vengeance, and the deadly consequences of justice.Who will ultimately triumph in this battle?

When she was ten, she said, “When I grow up, I want to be the President!”“It's impossible, but you can be the President's wife,” he replied.He gazed at her tenderly. His youthful eyes filled with deep affection, as if he wanted to give her the whole world.When she was thirty-three, due to a leak of military secrets, she was imprisoned for treason, and she saw his signature on the death sentence document.She finally understood that the so-called undying love was fake, and that power and status were the true goals.Love is just like a ghost—more talked about than seen....Reborn and back to the age of twenty, she opened her eyes and shouted, “I must be the President!”“But, Madam... Your husband is already the President,” someone said.She was stunned for only a second, then viciously replied, “Then I'll take him down first, and I'll become the President!”A man gently pushed open the half-closed door, chuckling softly, “Did I hear wrong? Sweetie, you want to... take me down?”

“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.