TomatoesandCoffee

When he was born, his grandfather declared he would be a tyrant who would slaughter and pillage, a cold psychopath who would ascend the world throne.

Cruelty and indifference are engraved into his bones and madness from years of licking blood on the edge of a knife. 

His fate hides countless sins.

Drugs, guns, gangs, war, and blood.

The heavens themselves would not stand such a scourge and his enemies condemned him to eternal damnation in death.

In his last life, the heavens did strike him down– bankrupt, imprisoned, crippled, and finally dying pathetically, seething with manic hatred and resentment. 

Never knowing his true enemies even to the end.

Until he opened his eyes again, and he was back to the very beginning.

Selwynn fell into darkness. He opened his eyes, stared at the dark abyss, and suddenly laughed out loud.

 Therefore, darkness is the original colour of the world, and destruction is his calling.


Until a man, stained with the nobility of a Juliet Rose, took a step closer, held his neck, and felt the blood pumping beneath the warm skin. 

His fair and slender fingers were like vines growing from hell, wrapping around the man's neck, biting into his flesh.

"You belong to me."
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Dangerous Redemption [BL]

Without waiting for Selwynn to respond, Anson pressed the mouse to close in on the copy of the report. "The first hospital usually does not allow severely injured persons to be discharged, but this time they did quite quickly."

"As long as you find out who those five belong to and who their boss is related to. Then everything will slowly unravel."

Although Anson did not point directly to the mastermind, for intelligent people like Selwynn, this was more than enough. What he needed most now was time; with time, what he knew could be more comprehensive before launching an attack.

Selwynn moved away from the computer and lit a cigarette. With a light smoke, Selwynn looked out the window into the night. For people like them, sitting by the window was not a good decision, but it was an exception if the glass was presidential-level bulletproof.

His voice echoed softly after a few minutes of silence,

Chapter 76