My Girlfriend Is Very Good to Me - 156 - Han Yeonho Enters Training Camp (2)

When people awaken, their class gets ranked.F means nothing.SS means everything.Nobody talks about SSS ranks, because they aren’t real. Well, they weren’t real until he became one.Lucen Ivara was fine with staying average. Keep his head down, take low-tier jobs, eat something hot once in a while. That was the plan.Then his system came online.It didn’t follow the rules.There were no guides. It seemed limitless. There weren’t any safety rails he could cling into.Just a blank interface and a quiet message floating in front of him.[You are the first.]Now Lucen is crafting spells no one’s seen before, hiding a class that could get him killed, and trying to scrape by in a city where dungeon breaks, guild politics, and hidden power plays are part of daily life.He’s not looking to be a hero.But with power like this, staying invisible might be the hardest thing to do..

In the eyes of outsiders, Yan Ruxu’s conditions are extremely good: good looks, high education, a high salary, and a high position, but there is a fatal flaw: she is divorced, with a three-year-old child. Yan Ruxu didn’t care what others thought of her, she just wanted to raise her son well and live her own life.

- Description from Novelupdates

For every God out there, there are about thousand shitty games in this world.

Bugs, Errors, Texture Collapses, Inconsistent Scenarios…… Those are the things that fill the players around the world with grief and remorse.

A certain boy who loves such shitty games decides to challenge a Godly game recognized by the general public for a change.

As a result, both the gaming world and the real world in which the boy is revolving begin to change. Still, the specs of the Godly game still fills the boy’s heart with dread.

「Are Encounter Rates like that really a common sense in Godly Games……?」

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.