Chronicles of the True Wizard - Chapter 212:Book 4 - 14

After learning about my girlfriend's infidelity, I got drunk and woke up in the world of the novel R-19.I became a character who is not even included in the extras of the novel — the useless and unnecessary daughter of the Duke de Walt. However, I didn't care about it, because I knew what this world was waiting for ahead.In the near future, the Ruvens Empire will be mired in chaos, and in order to survive it, I decided to quietly sit out in the manor enjoying a luxurious life. Everything went according to plan, until one day I made just one fatal mistake.A year after my rebirth, I accidentally found a wounded commoner in the forest. Out of pity, I decided to take her in and kept her. We lived together until I found out that this was the main villain who was supposed to die at the end of the novel. But because of my interference, the plot of this damn book continued with me!I have to run now! But where...?!After all, this crazy woman is now stalking me.— Where are you going, lady?— I… just went out for a walk.— Take a walk? The border of the empire is not the best place to walk. Let me walk you back.With the sword in her hand, I didn't have a chance to refuse.

In her past life, Lu Zhaozhao placed her trust in the wrong people, inadvertently causing the death of the man who deeply loved her.Reborn on the first day she met him, Lu Zhaozhao decisively dragged Song Si Nian to register their marriage. As she busied herself with dealing retribution and slapping faces, she had only one principle regarding her husband, who suffered from emotional expression disorder: to love him.What Lu Zhaozhao did not know was that she was Song Si Nian's only light. His illness made him paranoid and obsessive, yet he dared not reveal his true self to her.But the truth cannot remain hidden forever. When everything about him was laid bare before her, Song Si Nian held her tightly, tears reddening his eyes, and with a timid voice asked while buried in her neck, “Zhaozhao, do you not want me anymore?”

“Villains aren’t born, they’re made...blah...blah...”Cute quote. Stick it on your Tumblr header next to your anime pfp.You boys love your villain stories, don’t you?You want carnage. Chaos. Control. You want a dark throne, a cold smirk, and a woman kneeling at your feet begging for mercy.But you?You don’t want to lift a damn finger.You’ll cheer for the villain as he kills a god, but cry when he gets betrayed.You call it “plot armor” when the hero survives—but call it “art” when the villain does the impossible.You’re not fans of villains.You’re fetishists.You want the violence, but not the silence after it.You want domination, but not the burden of being hated.You want power, but only if the story forgives you for it.You don’t read these stories to understand evil.You read them because you think you're too good to win the normal way.“Villains don’t play fair.”Exactly. That’s why you love them.Because you wouldn’t last a day in a world where strength mattered and excuses didn’t.You don’t want a villain’s life.You want his results.You want to watch him burn the world for a woman.But you’d cry if a girl left you on read.So tell me—What exactly are you rooting for?At least unlike you, I support heroes—the ones with boobs.You know the type.Tits squeezed into latex, thighs tight in spandex, preaching virtue with cum-drunk eyes the moment they fall into my arms but always end up screaming my name instead.She flies above cities, saving lives like it’s her job.But at night? She crashes into my arms, trembling, moaning, clawing at my back like I’m the only real thing she’s ever touched.Her cape drops before her guard does.But I don't need to tear it off.She hands it over herself—bit by bit, kiss by kiss, lie by beautiful lie.You ever felt a heroine's breath hitch in your ear as she begs you to stop pretending you're the bad guy?Ever watched the symbol of hope ride you like you're the last man left after the world ended?That's not conquest.That’s devotion, baby.Unfiltered. Undeniable.And the irony?They fall the hardest.Because no villain ever tried to understand them. No hero ever dared to see past the shine and into the ache beneath.But I do.I whisper into the cracks of their perfection.I plant kisses where they hide their pain.I fuck them where they forget to wear their strength.And when they break—when their moans turn to prayers, when their strength melts into submission—That’s when I rise.I’m not just some brooding misfit out for revenge, or a misunderstood loner sitting around hoping for a shot at redemption.I’m not a villain.I’m the SUPERVILLAIN—the kind your heroines moan for when the cameras are off and the capes are crumpled on my floor.