One Piece: The Strongest Swordsman - Chapter 65: Entering the Mansion (3)

The 7-year-old little crybaby met 11-year-old big brother who ran away from home.
[This man became the protector of redemption in his life]

The 16-year-old little dragon fell in love with a 20-year-old big brother.
[It’s a pity that the big brother didn’t recognize him as the little crybaby]

The 23-year-old single father and 27-year-old chief executive meets again.
[This time the little crybaby and his big brother are finally together]

Fortunately we met through hundreds of millions of people, Thank God, for letting us break through many obstacles and get back together again, falling in love with you and being with you again is the greatest fortune in my life.

- Description from Novelupdates

Choi Sunwoo’s life takes a dramatic turn when he wakes up as a character in the very novel that enthralled him for weeks. Working as a publishing company PD for five years, Sunwoo is no stranger to dramatic twists, but nothing prepares him for this surreal twist of fate. Now pregnant and trapped in a cursed narrative, he becomes an integral part of the story he once read. Sunwoo’s character, an ambitious Omega, daringly infiltrates the secretariat under the guise of a Beta, all to be near the enigmatic and dominant Alpha, Kang Jinwook. His bold plan spirals out of control, leading to a scandalous pregnancy and a botched blackmail scheme. As he attempts to extricate himself from this tangled web by resigning, he finds himself the focus of Jinwook’s intense and obsessive desires. Will he outwit Jinwook and break free from the novel’s grip, or will he be forever ensnared in its pages?

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.”