PREVIEW

... ’s not that they are ignorant, it’s that these foods taste so good!

  The taro is sweet and soft, especially delicious! The ribs are tender and tasty, the vegetables are crispy, sweet and juicy... even better than what they eat in restaurants outside!

  Looking at the surprise of the three of them, Lin Bo narrowed his eyes with a smile, "I told you all, isn't it delicious?"

   "Dad, this taste is too good!" Lin Hongyang looked at the food in front of him, "Which elder can co ...

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“You shouldn’t have crossed this line, Elisha, if you didn’t want it to be like this.”

A sturdy arm wrapped around her swaying body. Her head became hazy and an intentional hot sweet sigh was pulled out of her.

‘How the hell did I get myself in this situation—’

Elisha recalled. This never happened before.

‘Yeah, I remember.’

Her future in which she would become the fake concubine to a demonic man from the same family, and would be eaten to death—even down to her bone marrow. A future in which the Cartier ducal family is embroiled in a power struggle and fragmented.

To avoid that future, Elisha threw herself at Lucerne, the archrival of her former life.

Yeah. There was no problem. She knew this man, before and after her regression. She already knew he was the most notorious maniac in the Empire.

20-year-old Elisha owes 30,000 gold coins (about 15 billion won in Korean currency or around 15 million in USD).

After going back in time, in order to avoid a hellish life because of debt, she becomes the most capable illegitimate child in the world and visits Lucerne, the archenemy of her master.

“What do you want from me?”

“Please lend me some money. And… make me your subordinate. I’ll give you all the information I have.”

“Why should I trust you?”

“I’ll give myself up as collateral.”

Lucerne listened to Elisha and watched her quietly.

“Okay. But I decide how to deal with the collateral.”

“…….”

“First of all, marry me.”

“…… huh?”

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I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.