CloudCatcher

In the greed-filled world of corporate empires and magic knights, Min Jae was a king in business, with pockets so deep he could drown in them. That is, until his life deemed his playthrough unfair and gave him a red card. Poison was his family's best friend, as everyone had at least tasted it once, not twice because they never could.

Death was never on his calendar, neither was an offer for a divine gig. Enter the Deity of Stories, a celestial being with a fetish for plot twists, who offers Min Jae a deal he can't refuse: become her divine cameraman. 

No, not the kind with a lens, but one who records the tales of mortals. In return, he gets a second shot at life, in a world where his dearly departed parents are alive and well, ready to dote on him from birth.

Reborn as Judge (because “Min Jae 2.0” sounded too dull), he quickly realizes this new life is no gift. This steampunk utopia, filled with airships, clockwork gadgets, and an alarming lack of Wi-Fi, thrives on manipulation. But who needs the internet when you have a divine camera and the sharp mind to control it all?

Judge isn’t just here to record stories; he’s here to write them, casting himself as the mastermind behind every twist and turn. Armed with his divine powers, he navigates complex schemes, power-hungry nobles, and ruthless industrialists, all while keeping his ultimate goal hidden: to ascend to godhood and rewrite his own fate.

Of course, he generally makes a glorious mess of things, all while trying to keep his dear parents blissfully unaware of his less-than-angelic schemes. But as the stakes rise and the Deity of Stories watches his every move, Judge must tread carefully. Can he manipulate his way to the top, or will he become just another character in someone else’s plot twist?

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Just a quick disclaimer: The book steers clear of any unwanted adult stuff. However, it does feature a potentially disturbing amount of violence—enough to make you wonder about the author's mental health.
So proceed with caution—and maybe a shield!

Cameraman Never Dies

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Noel. Truly, from the deepest pits of my soul, I didn't mean to insult your wife like that…" Victor dropped to the floor in a grand kowtow, pressing his forehead to the ground with the energy of a man auditioning for Desperate Idiot in Distress. The time was exactly 3:03 pm, and the entire hotel room seemed to hold its breath, the tension so palpable you could cut it with a butter knife.

Noel stared down at Victor with the calm disdain of a parent watching their toddler throw a tantrum in public. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You know, we agreed on this ridiculous code, and yet seeing you grovel like that… I regret everything."

Victor, still on the floor, peeked up with a mischievous grin. "Regret? Oh no, my dear Noel. Regret is realizing your own genius in action! Look at us— alive, un-stabbed, and shapeshifter-free. You're welcome."

A dramatic kowtow that everyone regretted doing