Pretending to Cultivate in Kindergarten - Chapter 231: Alchemy

She is one the most famous thieves of the twenty-first century and the legendary racing queen who is unrivalled in the underworld.

She is a carefree girl who comes and goes as she pleases like the wind.

He is a powerful underworld boss, known to be cruel and merciless.

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He didn’t think that someone would dare to provoke him by touching what belonged to him. Since they had shown him enmity, then he would return it in her stead.

Passion. Love. Hate. Pain.

It was all impossible to unravel.

- Description from Novelupdates

“My only regret was.. living like a puppet for my sister!”Olivia Witherland had no one but her sister in this world. So when her sister Oriana married the duke of Aykroyd and became the duchess, she had no choice but to follow her there. Despite knowing that her sister had killed the previous duchess and going to harm the child left behind, she kept her eyes closed. But when the child grew up as Demon,he killed everyone including her and the innocent kids, Oriana gave birth to.Olivia regretted that her silence had harmed not only Damon but her innocent nephew and niece. Everyone was killed, but the killer lived a hollow life too.But fate gave her a second chance. Would she be able to save everyone or would destiny play a cruel game again?

A number of university students are given a simple survey in which they must watch a number of short films and rank them in order of preference. The reader takes the survey along with them with the short films being told as short stories.

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.”