The Game at Carousel: A Horror Movie LitRPG - Chapter Eighteen: Souvenirs

That night, she was dragged to the Bureau of Civil Affairs. Wait, after getting the marriage certificate, the husband ran away? And his identity can’t be found? OMG, did she marry a human or a ghost?

Disheveled, she entered the entertainment industry and almost got sexually assaulted by a director due to the unspoken rule. Young Master Moh suddenly reappeared, and that director was tortured before getting cancelled.

During a shoot, she almost died since her enemy wanted to destroy her. Then, hundreds of mysterious soldiers arrived and smashed everything. The producer was exposed of corruption and his life got destroyed.

She always fights back and takes revenge, not taking the high road.

What? A woman is after her man? No tolerance! She barged into that woman’s home and whooped her ass. She said afterward, “How dare you touch my man?”

Young Master Moh had to cover his forehead; he needed to teach her how to behave like a senior officer’s woman.

Shao Xuan joins a friend in his expedition to a recently discovered archaeological cave. After he picks up an ordinary looking stone he is teleported to a different world and wakes up in the body of a small orphan child. The world he is in now is still in its stone age with primitive tools made of stone and the ways of the people are savage. Savage isn’t the only thing special about the people though, because they have superhuman strength, jump higher than trees and punch stones. In short, they are able to cultivate their bodies. Despite all this, it is a real struggle to survive because of the scarcity of food. Together with Caesar, his pet wolf, he tries to survive in this cruel world.

Shen Chen starts living a life of unrestrained indulgence since marrying Shi Yu. The most beautiful lovers’ prattle she has ever heard is “I will punish those whom you have offended.”Skit:“A handsome man delivered a parcel to your wife just now, Sir.”The young master acknowledged with a lazy “Mhm.”Half an hour later, all courier companies in the city go belly up.“Your wife has offended someone, Sir.”“Mhm.”Ten minutes later, that person is left to die in a desolate mountain.

Three rejections. Three shattered dreams. That was Layla’s reality, all because she was different—a half-shifter in a world obsessed with purity. Ostracized, shunned, and finally sold off like a pawn to the most feared ruler alive—the Lycan King. He was ruthless, a king with a graveyard of brides, each one a ghostly reminder of a fate worse than death.Layla loathed him. Hated the way his gaze cold and fathomless, held no warmth for her. Hated how his touch, both thrilling and terrifying, sent an uninvited chill down her spine.---“I hate you!” I screamed, hands clenched so tight my knuckles ached.He sighed, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips, his tone mocking as he closed his book with a deliberate snap. “Stressed, are we?” he asked, strolling toward me, each step reminding me exactly who held the power here.“Lucky for you,” he drawled, rolling up his sleeves as he stopped just inches away, “I know exactly 70 ways to ease those nerves.” His fingers brushed my cheek, a touch that seemed to burn into my skin. “The first… a hug.” His voice dropped to a rough whisper as he leaned in, breath hot against my ear. “And the rest... well, that's 69? what do you say about that?”I swallowed hard, my heart thudding wildly as he tilted his head, waiting for me to react, that insufferable smirk still in place.“What’s the matter, darling?” he murmured, a taunt lingering in his gaze.---A Dangerous ObsessionCan she resist the pull, or will she dance into the flames of her own destruction?A dark dive into obsession, raw need, and the razor’s edge between desire and devastation.---LYCAN KING CASSIANI will tear her apart piece by piece, feeding the wildfire that grips her with each shuddered breath. Like air to flame, I’ll claim every inch, drawing heat from her skin until it sinks into her bones.Her pulse will race under my hands, her breaths shallow, pleading. Her eyes may scream, but her lips will still murmur my name. That first taste of fear will only feed something deeper—a need that burns through her veins, molten and fierce.And just when she’s too far gone to turn back, I’ll twist the knife, giving her the pain she’s learned to crave.She’ll be the moth to my flame, helpless against the very thing that will consume her.