Guild Mage: Apprentice - Chapter 114. Nautical Charts and Tea

This is the story of a Gong who was reborn to the time before he lost his shou, where he started to tease his shou crazily… This story will be written from the shou’s POV.

The F1’s God of racing, Winston, lost his one and only important rival, Hunter. No matter how many skillful opponents appeared before him one after another, he still remained as the solitary ruler.

But one day, when Winston woke up, he found himself back to the time Hunter was only 18-years-old.

Winston, “Are you willing to rule over the Kingdom of speed with me and be my only King?

- Description from Novelupdates

She transmigrated into the body of “Ancia”, the wife of the monstrous crown prince, “Blake” in a R-19 romance novel.

In the original story, Ancia committed suicide on her first day of marriage, leaving Blake with a huge trauma. But this time, Ancia didn’t have any intention of leaving him.

Blake is the second male lead in the original story. He is potrayed as a beast who posses’ an exquisite facade. Yet, right now, he behaved like a naive rabbit.

The only person who can remove the crown prince’s curse is the heroine, Diana. My only role is to keep this little boy from getting hurt and then step down in time. But…..

“Ancia, don’t leave me!”

This little rabbit keeps chasing me.

A world only I know of, now I will take it all for myself.There’s no kind soul here willing to share and eat nicely with others.Only the ruthless one who will devour it all alone exists here.

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.”