The Older Man Is Addicted To Pampering His Wife - Chapter 8 - Uninvited Guest

Luan Bednicker, the youngest son of the “Great House.”But… I have no blessings?“The Failure of the Lord of Blood and Iron”“The Fool of Bednicker”I wandered seeking a place to die, away from the clan’s contempt.But then…“You? You’re my disciple, you little shit.”The greatest of all time.The one unparalleled among men.The perfect superhuman.I became the youngest disciple of Baek Nogwang?

Yuan Xiao was reborn. Only after her death did she discover that she was living in a book. In the book, she was a fake heiress who did terrible things and made the real female protagonist look like a good person. After being reborn, Yuan Xiao decided to become a scholar. As long as she studied hard enough, she’d repeatedly get the opportunity to draw prizes and stop herself from being controlled by the storyline. She wanted to change her life. Yuan Xiao did not want the terrible fate of her past life to repeat itself.

She wanted a life that belonged to her! Other students looked down on her. She made sure to win as many prizes in competitions as she could and consistently claimed the number one spot in school. Some people suspected she might have forged her educational accomplishments due to her young age. She directly solved the toughest questions in the world to prove those people wrong. Did somebody mock her for not being able to do anything else but study? She’d show them her world-class piano-playing…

Yuan Xiao went down the scholarly path and never looked back. She was no longer the bad student she used to be. The smart student in school, who nobody dared to offend, forced her into a corner and nervously gave her a lollipop. “I just gave you a lollipop, the thing that I like the most. When will you be my girlfriend?” Yuan Xiao tapped on his chin and chuckled. “I’ll be your girlfriend if you get into Q College with me.”

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.

“Can’t I properly read stallion novels anymore!”