My Werewolf System - Chapter 5: What am I?

After living in a desolate land, where there wasn’t even a single blade of grass and hunger was an everyday reality, Min Sung finally returns to Earth: his home.

[Warning: The title might be named this way, but we’re actually NOT on hiatus.]I’m a third-rate writer, Yu Il-Shin.So don’t think that I’m actually a god; it’s just a name.One day, I experienced the much-anticipated awakening, but my newfound skill was… kinda weird?…In the small world connected through my mobile phone where the little, weak ants were getting killed regarded me as their god?

The Night Killer was a notorious serial killer with an indestructible reputation transcending across all nations, targeting corrupted nobles and their subordinates. His resilient ambitions to exterminate the monarchy and destabilize the relations between the nobility and its monarch made him do unspeakable things, going as far as to bed the Queen with the aim of controlling the royal court.

Due to his 'carelessness', he was ultimately arrested and brought to kneel among the people, ending his bloody reign of terror.

Having foreseen his inevitable doom, he had made preparations in advance. He had ordered his closest companion to end his life on the day of his execution.

Having been reborn into the body of Ren Ye, he was met with the presence of an adorable little girl in his life, calling out Papa whenever she sees him and giving kisses on his cheeks.

Likewise, a system was awakened inside of him, and evil transmigrators ascended on Earth, threatening the safety of him and his beloved.

Follow along his journey from a callous and ruthless murderer to becoming a warm and loving father to his daughter, while fighting off evil forces and keeping Earth a peaceful place for his family to live.

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.