CULPA NUESTRA③ (OUR FAULT) ENGLISH TRANSLATION - Chapter 17 - 16 NOAH

The night is dark and the wind is high, and the reality is killed.

Dear players, welcome to the holographic killing game “Fantasy”.

This game is not easy, don’t flirt with girls, don’t make friends, focus on hurting each other.

【Book Friends Group: 471036516】

- Description from novelbuddy

Every author loves their story.Sure, you may get tired of writing it after quite a while, but even so; it was a novel you enjoyed writing before, no?The words you put consideration to, the effort you did research overnight.The thrill to have a reader, the thought of someone enjoyed your work.All of it was something you used to cherish, but you may end up forgetting the joy over small things one day as you move on.Everyone loves their work.But some forget they did.

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 am Supreme