MTL - Reborn Aristocrat: Return of the Vicious Heiress - Chapter 19 Boudoir

When he woke up, Yang Yuan found himself reborn.

When he was one year old, “Ah, not only rebirth, but also transmigration.”

At the age of three, “Goldfinger is finally in place!”

Portable space is handy.

Fourteen years old, “What the hell is my golden finger?”

Yang Yuan screamed in the sky…

Thirty-year-old, Yang Yuan, who was hugging from left to right, stood on Emperor Tread Peak, pointing to the vast land, “This is the country that I have conquered!”

Omg, golden fingers are so fragrant!

- Description from novelbuddy

She was disfigured and her mother died an innocent death. A cup of poison wine was not enough to kill her and she had to die by plunging into burning flames! Before entering her next lifetime, she vowed to change history and get her revenge!

When she opened her eyes again, she was 13 again. Her mother had just passed and her father had yet remarried. To prevent history from repeating itself, she took careful steps.

However, she ended up discovering a 30-year-old mystery case that had been hidden all these while. She had been reborn as a beauty and was not going to give up on herself.

She was going to live out her best life with her alluring charms!

- Description from Novelupdates

Ding![The Host has died!]A system message popped up in front of Nell's body after his last dying breath.Ding![Dark Evolution has been activated to absorb the death essence of the host.]And then he opened his eyes to find himself in the past right before the battle started.'Ah! Am I back to the past?'Ding![Please choose a partner to start the Dark Evolution process.][Partner Condition: Must be a living creature from the Monster category, not the Human category][Partner Gender has to be Female.]'Partner? A monster?'Nell's heart pounded in his chest, and he felt a cold sweat coming on.'A female monster?'

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.