MTL - The Squeamish Little Brother of the Actor - Chapter 9 Are you married

Blue sky, white clouds, lazily lying on the beach, while feeling the gentle breeze coming from the sea. Hounds at the side with marine animals chasing each other around. Cups of unrivaled wine from his personal winery with cuts of prime A grade steaks readily around. For others, life is all about pursuing money, power, and fame, but for Jiang Hai, this type of lifestyle is what he constantly dreamed of.

- Description from Novelupdates

Jinhyuk is a person who likes to immerse himself in the role of the Villains but there is one villain which he particularly hates,

Reed Adeleheights Roton, the false final boss of the game.

The one who created the Seven Disasters.

The one who due to his inferiority complex led to his own doom.

The one who turned a cute innocent girl into the monstrous First Disaster codenamed Cosmo.

“If I was the Villain then I would have raised her a little better.”

And thus God granted his wish and now he was the false final Villain Reed Adeleheights Roton, the creator of the Seven Disasters.

How different would the world turn out to be now?

It’s the vacation of a lifetime, a trip to a remote island filled with geniuses and murder.

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”