Apocalypse: Transmigrated with an Overlord System - Chapter 14 - : Boiled Socks?

The moment the little tyrant of the nobles, Roel Ascart, saw his stepsister, he recalled his memories. He realized that he was in the world of a gal game he played in his previous life. To make things worse, he was the greatest villain in the common route of the game!

“I’ll be killed by the main character and the four capture targets ten years from now. Is there still any hope for me?”

Just thinking about the fearsome glints of those sharp swords those beautiful capture targets held in their hands, Roel couldn’t help but tremble in fear.

Till a voice finally sounded in his head.

【Welcome to the House Resurgence System】

He had lived a thousand lives… some were long and precious and some short-lived, forgotten in the back of his mind.

This time, he was born as baby Lee Seo-jun.

Elves… fairies… slimes… gift box… devils… he’ll use the mystical abilities from his past lives to captivate and capture the hearts of the people and become an idol, a superstar.

Using the memories of his life akin to a fairy tale, he’ll become an idol that will be remembered in the annals of history.

……………………………………………………………

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Ruel finds himself thrust into a brutal post-apocalyptic world, bound to a bizarre “Milf System.” This system demands morally questionable acts – NTR, seducing milfs, and claiming other men's wives – as the sole means of gaining strength and essential survival skills.The brutal reality of this new world awakens Ruel's hidden lust and dark desires. He swiftly abandons any semblance of morality, embracing the system's perverse demands with growing fervor.Driven by an insatiable hunger for power and pleasure, Ruel revels in the ravages he inflicts, using his newfound abilities to dominate and conquer.His journey transforms him into a ruthless force, where survival is intertwined with the satisfaction of his darkest urges, leaving a trail of broken relationships and conquered women in his wake.

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.