MTL - Problematic Sister Fell In Love With Me - Chapter 1200 】 San Ye's Past (Middle)

Then there’s James Bellini. His nickname? The Angel of Death.The man everyone fears. The man they all whisper about in dark corners. They say he’s merciless, that he has killed more people than anyone in the Circle. No one dares cross him. But there’s a secret, one that no one knows.James Bellini has never killed anyone. Not once.The rumors started because of a misunderstanding, a mistake so deep that even he couldn’t fix it. Now, the entire underworld fears him. Even the other bosses treat him like an equal, like he’s one of them. But the truth? The truth is something only God himself could untangle. And James? He’s just a man caught in the middle of it all.

There are two gods in the world, one lives in people's hearts and is dead. The other lives in reality and is alive.He is a person, he is named God. Yes, he is the one being talked about.He has returned from Hell.

I’ll give you an opportunity—but not for free.Gates have opened all over Earth, unleashing hordes of monsters from other dimensions. Humanity stands on the brink of extinction, with only ten years left until the end of Earth as it is.With my awakened skills, Record and Time Rabbit’s Luggage, I’ve spent seventy-six lifetimes trudging through these grueling regressions. The repetition ends here, on this Attempt.But it’s unfair if I’m the only one suffering, right? So let’s share the burden.“Ah, don’t sweat it! I’ll give you a good opportunity. For what you’re getting, it’s a bargain, don’t you think?”

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.”