Secret Marriage, High-Profile Pampering! - Chapter 68 Unsettled Accounts

For five years, Kian tried to beat End Realms: Arcadia — a brutal fantasy game no one ever cleared.He knew every quest, every secret, every ending.And yet, after countless failures, he died… with only one regret.Then he woke up — not as a hero, but as Luca Valentine, a useless extra doomed to die in Chapter 3.Now, on his 1,432nd try, he can’t afford to die.But Luca knows the world inside out.He thought he knew the story. But the story may know him better.

Since I regressed, I decided not to hide my abilities.“Hypnosis, huh? That’s amazing! Hypnotize me too!”“How about me, instead of that sly fox? If you join our clan… you, you can hypnotize me!”…Maybe I exposed it too much.

Zephyr Ashbourne has been a mage for two months. Following one eventful night where he accidentally made a pact with a werewolf deity, he's left with the ability to use magic - much to the dismay of his vampire ex-girlfriend who'd been seeking magic for herself. Now Zephyr is attending a small and selective university for mages half way across the world, the Midnight Court. Though quickly, he learns this new power comes with new problems. His ex-girlfriend, for one, wasn't thrilled when he skipped town without a word. And too, his new dueling partner, Aries de la Fel, seems to find new ways to push his buttons on the daily.A novelization of a playthrough of Covens of Midnight - a slice-of-life, magic school, enemies-to-lovers RPG.

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.”