My System Always Wants to Force Me to Confess - Chapter 242: The Juice Princess Appears!

Jiang Xun was transmigrated as a cannon fodder. Her mother died when she was young, her stepmother schemes against her, and her father abandoned her in a village. But Jiang Xun didn’t panic, and she was a person who always won by virtue.

Thieves would say, “Stop hitting me, I’ll change careers!”

Thugs would say, “Stop hitting me, I’ll return the money!”

At the Jiang family banquet, guests were watching her every move, waiting for her to make a fool of herself. “I heard that she’s been living in the village for eleven years and has a country bumpkin-like feel to her. If I were the Jiang family, I wouldn’t risk her embarrassing me by letting her attend.”

Mr. Jiang said to her, “Stay behind your mother and don’t speak lest you embarrass yourself.”

Her stepmother nodded. “The Qin family’s patriarch, Qin Mufeng is noble, benevolent, and abstinent. Don’t even think about someone like him; he’s completely out of your league.”

Sure. She didn’t intend to marry into a rich family anyway. She just wanted to beat up the man in the rumors. But why was this man following her around all day every day?

Do you know how long will you live?

Are you sure when you wake up the next morning, you will continue your life just like any other day?

What if the world wanted to flip your life upside down?

What will you do? What can you do?

This is what happened to Shin. who took his life for granted and was taught a lesson when the world flipped upside down.

Many strange phenomena were occurring. People started gaining abilities and evolving. Many different threats to humanity started appearing. The world was changing. So many myths and things became real which was supposed to be fiction.

Shin also had to adapt to this new world. Shin struggled. to survive, to live another day, to have his daily peaceful life back.

Amidst this Apocalypse, Shin Awakened his ability.

[Plunder]

“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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