I Can Hear a Serial Killer's Voice in My Head - Chapter 8: At the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency (1)

Alexander Blackwell has always been a man of taste, charm, and relentless ambition—traits he inherited alongside the world’s largest fortune. When his legendary father, a trillionaire who built an empire from nothing, passes away, Alexander wakes up to a reality most could only dream of: unlimited power, endless wealth, and a blank canvas to shape his legacy.But Alexander isn’t content with simply inheriting the Blackwell name; he’s determined to redefine it. From purchasing private islands to creating monuments of vanity, hosting the most exclusive events, and launching ventures that blur the line between brilliance and indulgence, he sets out to make himself unforgettable.To Alexander, ambition and excess go hand in hand. After all, what’s the point of having everything if you’re not building something bigger? What’s the point of having it all if you aren’t living like it?Disclaimer:This work is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All trademarks, brand names, and other proprietary rights mentioned or depicted are the property of their respective owners and are used for illustrative purposes only. This work is not affiliated with or endorsed by any brand, company, or individual mentioned. All rights reserved.

My Beautiful Teacher tells the story of a university graduate Qin Chao who can’t seem to find a job and is in a downward spiral in his life. Then one night as he walks home from another failed job interview, a vase hits his head, making him get possessed by an old and powerful evil spirit sealed in that vase and following another incidents, inadvertently saved a mysterious university teacher Su Ji, thereby opening his path to cultivation, he also manages to get a job as a security guard at Guangyuan School. A series of adventures then took place as he deals with all kinds of supernatural beings.

- Description from Novelupdates

Tuzi embodied what her name meant; a short, somewhat curvy and bubbly woman who was always down to have a good time with almost everyone. She was as active as a bunny even on her worst days, and she kept that up for her entire life... even though it cost her life. The problem with having fun with just about anyone meant that sometimes her partners were already taken, and one day a jealous lover found her and... well, she just wished she had gotten hit by a truck instead.After all, she 'woke up' after being brutally murdered to find herself standing in front of a true bunny; a Goddess who thought that this woman named after her was quite fascinating and entertaining to watch, so she was sent to another world to try it all again.The problem was she had no system, no help, no guide or special cheat... all she had were her wits, her wiles, and her charm to attempt to just survive in this new world, let alone entertain a Goddess with incredible feats!Join Tuzi as she travels through a fantasy world relying only on herself to achieve... well, perhaps greatness, or perhaps just a typical life for a Bunnykin; sex in abundance with the occasional baring of some deceptively sharp fangs.This is going to be a smut book primarily with action and adventure in roughly equal parts, and it will also have some scenes that will be dark. Tuzi won't be an OP system wielding MC, she won't be flawless, she won't always even be the main focus sometimes because of where she is and who she is with.The book will continue along with my usual ruleset; all futanari and women, hentai logic when it comes to sex, more focused on the people and how they interact instead of nonstop action... if that sounds good to you, come read, otherwise I wish you find a novel somewhere else that satisfies your wants.

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.