Lillia to Treize - Volume 2 Epilogue

In a survival game to select new Gods, mankind is summoned to another world filled with different races.

Have you ever wondered about unpredictable life?

One minute everything is so good and then suddenly the next minute everything just turns around…

Anya Owen faced such times thrice in her life due to one person. Twice she survived and started leading a happy life with her darling son.

But could she survive the jeopardy he was going to cause again in her life?

Alvin Matthews, the most mysterious man in the city. Nobody knows where he is, what is up to, or what he does. Some even doubt if he is alive or dead.

Could he stop himself from falling for the little feisty woman?

Well, he never stops himself. But he doubted if he would get killed by the stone-hearted woman before he could soften her heart.

~~~

Excerpt:

Alvin watched Anya politely speaking with the butler. He leaned back on the armchair and crossed his legs, intently watching the soft smiles appearing on the delicate face.

“Hey, Little Chipmunk, why is your mother good to all but me?” He asked shifting his eyes on the little man who was crossing his little legs playing a video game on his mobile.

A sly smirk appeared on Zane’s face. He carelessly threw his words, “That’s what you deserve, Chipmunk Monster.”

Alvin: “...”

Alvin has to rack his brain to appease Little Monster... Correction, Little Master and his Devil… The second Correction, his Queen.

In an inaccessible village, there were a few houses on the hillside.

People from far away were attracted here and the mountain road was crowded with luxury cars, because, in this town, there was a young man with incredible medical skills who could cure all kinds of illnesses!

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.