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... him so much. But honestly, I think I’m even more shocked than he is – my eyes had turned black in anger. 𝐟𝚛e𝐞𝙬𝗲𝒃𝓷𝒐𝘃e𝒍.c𝑜m

“What happened? Darling, what happened to you?” asked my mother as she walked in. I wasn’t surprised since my dad hadn’t made any attempts to be discreet about his outcries or hide the craze in his eyes.

“Luna Jessica, do you know the crime your mate had committed?” asked the investigator to my mother.

“What crime? What happened?”

“D ...

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Ye Han was reborn into a parallel world and participated in the challenge program [365 Days of Wilderness Survival] jointly organized by the world. At the beginning, he got a BUFF bonus with a lucky value of 9999. With his little cook, Ye Han started a shocking journey of survival in the wilderness.

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Four years ago, Mu Xueyi and Zhou Zhenyue broke up.
Four years later, a news exploded in the business world, and President Zhou committed suicide by jumping off the building because he couldn’t let go of his old relationship.
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? ? ?
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[Gentle President Attack x Little White Flowers in the Early Stage, Blackening and Crazy Criticism of Beauty in the Late Stage]
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Content tags: Urban love, broken mirror, reunion, love contract, rebirth
Search keywords: protagonist: Zhou Zhenyue, Mu Xueyi ┃ Other:
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“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.

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*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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