Princess is Glamorous in Modern Day - Chapter 1569 - 1569 Choosing CEO Jun as the Prince Consort

The whole world mutated. Mysterious resurrections happened in real life. The Tribulation descended.

The top alpha, Major General Ji Cheying, disguises himself as a down-on-his-luck beta in order to carry out a secret mission. One day, when he goes out to take out the garbage, while wearing a pair of torn socks, he comes across the poor nephew of his landlord, Xie Quan, a good-looking beta who was staying in the dirty and terrible basement.

The two look at each other, each feeling a little sorry for the other.

No one expected that one of these two miserable people was the prestigious Major General Ji and the other was the most powerful mecha engineer in the Empire. And to Ji Cheying’s further surprise, this beautiful beta confessed his passionate love for him!

He was torn again and again under the prudent choice to refuse the other, after all, this is a mission, not the time to talk about love.

When the mission was over and it was time to talk about love, it was Xie Quan’s turn to become baffled, “Who do you think likes you? Who confessed? I didn’t, I’m not, don’t talk nonsense.”

Ji Cheying: ???!

It was only then that Xie Quan unexpectedly realized that the Imperial Major General seemed to have mistakenly thought that he was in love with him.

A few months later, Major General Ji, who had entered his susceptible period, was violent and fierce, not able to be approached by strangers. However, his eyes were red and he was tugging at Xie Quan, his voice hoarse, “You little liar, cheating on my feelings and not taking responsibility.”

Xie Quan sighed, lifted his hair, and tore off the invisible gland patch, finally revealing the omega gland at the back of his neck, “Bite it. I’ll give you a bite.”

Ji Cheying gritted his teeth, “You’re a f*cking omega?”

True love has nothing to do with identity and gender.

- Description from Novelupdates

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.

I found myself in a parallel universe, awakening as a male priest. Everything seemed perfect; after all, as a healer, specializing in aiding women should pose no issue, right? However, I couldn’t help but wonder about some peculiar spells in my repertoire.

Firstly, what in the world is the “Instantaneous Outbreak of Acute Gastroenteritis” spell? And don’t even get me started on the “Osteoporosis” spell. What purpose could these serve in my healing endeavors? The confusion only deepened with spells like “Blood Burn,” “Gradual Freeze,” and “Mental Chaos.” Can I still peacefully focus on healing women with such ominous abilities?

Comparing my spells to those of other professions, I couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast. Mages wield “Doomstorm” and “Ice Age,” swordsmen boast “Sword Rain: Homecoming” and “Wind-Cutter Slash,” while archers showcase “Arrow Rain: Shooting Stars” and “Storm Arrow.” Yet, my ultimate spells are disturbingly named “Cancer Cell Proliferation,” “T-Virus Infection,” and “Rabies Outbreak.”

In the midst of it all, a certain character, some crying girl, laments, “Noooo, I just took a bath, who would have thought that I would become infected!”

Meanwhile, a villain chillingly asks, “Do any of you know what it feels like to burst apart while spouting blood? No! You don’t know!”

Even a boss character confesses, “Dear family, who can understand? I just took a nap, and when I woke up, I suddenly found that I have no kidneys!”