The CEO's loser wife: Rebirth of the villainous queen of alchemy - Chapter 220: Papa and mama love you little darling Part1

In a world where magic intertwines with reality, a dying human girl named Elara awakens to find herself in a foreign land. The air smells of ancient forests, and the sky is painted with hues she’s never seen before. Before her stands the enigmatic Demon Queen, Seraphina, her eyes as cold as the ice that encases her throne.Seraphina proposes a desperate bargain: a contractual marriage between them. In exchange for Elara’s hand, Seraphina promises to save the crumbling human kingdom from impending doom. Elara, with nothing left to lose, accepts, thrust into a web of intrigue, danger, and forbidden emotions.As they embark on their perilous adventure, Elara discovers that Seraphina’s icy demeanor hides a tragic past. The Demon Queen’s power is unmatched, her wrath swift and merciless. Yet, beneath the frost, Elara glimpses vulnerability—a longing for connection that defies her ruthless reputation.

What if you spend your whole life like a vegetable in a hospital bed? Only being able to speak and listen. Just that. Would you go crazy? Unbalanced? What if it was all the fault of a degenerate madman looking for his parents' inheritance? Would you be angry? Would you be mentally broken?That was Kayden's life for 20 years and as quickly as it started, it ended, but luckily for him, reincarnation existed and by some miracle, he still had his memories of it. And....his new world had...magic.In the first moment of consciousness, Kayden made a promise to himself, in this life, he would achieve everything, he would reach the height of power, he wouldn't give a damn about women or money, futile things that would condemn him to mediocrity, his focus was to have the power to rule his destiny, this time he would not be a slave to his own life, he would be a monarch.

This Dark story contains raw and unfiltered mature contents. Strictly R18+. Read with caution.Ella had lost everything. After her mother’s accident, her father married someone else and pushed her aside, choosing his new family over her. Her friends slowly left, and she was left to deal with everything alone. She spent all her money to keep her mother on life support. Now, she was broke, exhausted, and barely holding on.Then Nicholas showed up.He was a stranger—handsome, confident, and calm. But what shocked her most was the marriage certificate he brought. According to him, they got married in Vegas. The problem? Ella doesn’t remember it at all.She already has too much to deal with—her sick mom, the hospital bills, and her fiancé, who has been her only support. She can’t afford to lose him now.But Nicholas won’t go away. He says he’s her husband, and he wants her to come with him. Ella feels drawn to him in a way she can’t explain. He sees through her like no one else does.She knows she should walk away. She knows she should stay with the safe life she’s trying to hold on to. But something about Nicholas pulls her in—and she’s scared he might break her in the end.TW: DOMESTIC ABUSE, MENTAL HEALTH SCENES, ROUGH SEXUAL ACTS.

“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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