MTL - North American Detective: I Am Proficient In All Kinds of American IAI - Chapter 183 If you love him, just 'crazy' him!

The big director of the Jiaye film company was widely known as the Ghost Talent. In the eyes of everyone, he was a famous workaholic who was rumored to be sexually cold. Even so, from the time he became a director until now, there were already many overblown s*x scandals attached to his name.

Then, one day, he suddenly got married.

Yi Ran thought that she married such a man. In any case, she had nothing to lose. Until the wedding night, when they suddenly rolled the sheets and she discovered that…her thinking was too simple.

Have you ever loved someone who turned out to be so different from what you expected? This incomprehensible relationship became an opportunity to change your life, making you unable to forget. Life will be filled with flowers, making you want to cling to his side and never let go.

A lifetime of care is the most long-lasting feeling;

Life with him became a journey that will forever be imprinted in your memory.

There lived an extremely miserable man- he suffered from a terminal illness. But one fine day, when he left his miserable body, a certain entity grants him another chance- another life along with few gifts to help him in his journey.The man is transmigrated into the body of a young man into an ancient society. Watch how the man lives his new life and conquers the world.[This book will contain R18 scenes but do not expect it to be the theme of the book. It will be mostly based on strategies and expansion of empire. A small advancement in the technology can also be expected.]

DING![Ist Skill Devour Successful]______“They say a man's skills are honed over a lifetime, but what if he could devour them all in an instant?”Ryuen Takeru, a skilled, retired assassin, decides to pursue a better job that would keep him away from the dark life he once led.However, after a while, that peace was shattered when an unexpected train ride derailed reality itself, throwing him into a world and a life he had always hated.A world teetering on the brink of ruin, destroyed by an apocalypse as a result of the unending war between multiple races.Unfortunately, the post-apocalypse had already begun.Ryuen finds himself captured, exchanged, and made to serve kings of different nations.Yet fate had more in store for him.A devastating twist, capable of destroying or elevating him—the one thing he had overlooked as normal until the moment he was informed.A curse.Possible reincarnation?[Skill Devourer Activated: Plunder, Consume, Adapt, Evolve.]Nevertheless, for everything given, something must be taken—or perhaps sacrificed.

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

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