Drop!! ～A Tale of the Fragrance Princess～ - Volume 4, Act 36: Visiting the Poorhouse Part 3

Wake up and an unknown door has appeared in your home… Behind each door is a completely unfamiliar world.In the nightmare world, Jiang Cheng relays the news from the Hunk to the Fatty, adding his own spin to the story.The Fatty almost cried in fear hearing it.“My whole family will be strung upside down for blood-letting if I die here?”“That’s what I heard.”“Then, how come you don’t look scared at all?” The fatty widened his eyes.Jiang Cheng turned around and replied in a very formal tone, “Because I’m an orphan.”

A young Brave walked out of his village, gathered companions to his side, defeated the Great Demon King, became famous, then came back with beauties in hand! This was a legend that appears in the world of Seyrol every 200 years!

Our protagonist, however, isn’t a Brave. Even so, for over a thousand years his figure has loomed throughout its history.

Unwittingly, the name of the Red-robed Priest began to resound throughout the world. Red-robed Priest’s legend included extraordinary sword techniques and magic, erudite knowledge, and an almost prophetic ability to lead young Braves toward the proper path. People of the world think of him as a descendent of the ancient Yellow Race which led to his omnipotence. In essence, however, this was just the characteristics of the profession known as ‘Noble’.

- Description from Novelupdates

In the rebirth, in order to prevent the tragedy of the previous life from happening, Bai Yu decided to rush to the [Tower of God] at any cost, and face everything together with his sister!

However, Bai Yu, who was bound by the system, mutated his bloodline, and transformed into a black-scaled python seems to be developing on a completely different path from his previous life…

- Description from novelbuddy

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.