MTL - The Lady’s Sickly Husband - ~ finished

[TRIGGER WARNING: DARK THEMES, MATURE CONTENT.]In a world where humans, werewolves, vampires, fey, and other supernatural beings coexist, Isleen; an Omega who has been subject to multiple bullying and ridicule in the pack because of her parent's past, faces a challenging dilemma. She's dating Kylo but unexpectedly discovers that his strict father, Rhett, who is the pack’s Gamma, is her destined mate.Conflict arises as a war breaks out among the supernatural creatures and the death toll rises. Isleen struggles with her loyalty to her boyfriend, and the powerful pull she feels towards his father, due to the mate bond.——Imagine getting married at Eighteen to a woman old enough to be your mother– all because of your loyalty to the Moon Goddess?Welcome to Rhett’s reality. Rhett DarkWater is a man of principles but not without his share of secrets and hidden missions. After finding out who his second fated mate is, he battles with his devotion to the Moon Goddess, his loyalty to his son, and his duty as the Gamma who is supposed to protect the pack—not have his son’s girlfriend pinned beneath him in a corner with her clothes off.Unfortunately for Rhett and Isleen, the mate bond knows no morality – it attacks, and when it does, two hearts must become one.——I and Gamma Rhett just kissed again.He knelt before me, his hand reaching out to touch me, but I flinched away. “Isleen,” he muttered.“This is wrong,” I cried. “We can't do this. It's forbidden. W-what about Kylo?”He stared at me, his eyes burning with a passion that frightened me to the core. Yet, it left tingling sensational effects all over my body. “Don't fight it, Isleen. We are mates. This is what we're meant for.”

In the 15th year of Lolan’s independence, Luo En transmigrated to this world. But because his system needed six months to load, he had to make use of his own know-how to open a bar in the city and use the bar to familiarize himself with this new universe he was in.

But the location of the bar was poor, so the only customer he had was a man named Charles. This man was a very strange one who enjoyed asking Luo En about the country. He would ask about matters concerning the military, the people, and any other topic that would have seemed potentially treasonous.

“What sort of person do you think the current king of Lolan is?

“Which side do you think is more likely to win the war between Lolan and Waoh?

“Which of the king’s sons do you think is most suitable to be the next king?

Charles’ questions were always so bold.

Luo En was always on the verge of rolling his eyes. As a top student of the 21st century who was well versed in military matters and history, these brainless questions were an insult to his intelligence

But since Charles always spent so much money here, he decided to just answer some of Charles’ questions.

“The current king of Lolan is a good king who’s hard to come by. His legacy will definitely go down in history!

“Before him, Lolan was a divided nation where the aristocrats took control of everything, oppressing the people and making their lives difficult. White Horse City and Sunset City were filled with poor and hungry people, even selling their children to make ends meet and eating absolutely anything they could find. It was such a tragedy.

“Thankfully, the current king united the country and gave the people a peaceful and stable environment to live in. At the same time, he set new laws to help the people come out of their post-war poverty…

“So, I think the current king is a truly wise man, a good king who comes once every millennium!

After hearing these words, the king in disguise at the bar felt his heart palpitate. “You know me the best!

Other people earn points, gain skills and attributes after transmigration, while I end up planting trees?

“Coming live to you, from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Late last night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts,” the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.

In the background, the blaring horns of ambulances and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.

The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, placed a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, “We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night palace.”

“My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightplace, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special place for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news,” the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman's charred body lay alone in the ambulance.

Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boy lay fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy's carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.

*ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a glass-like slab. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and placed it near his ear.

“Hello...” he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.

“Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?” a voice laced with disdain emanated from the slab.

The boy, referred to as the “Pissed-up Prat” by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn't recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, “Who is this?”

“What do you mean, 'who is this'? Wake up, come home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!” the voice behind the transparent slab retorted before falling silent.

The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened glass slab with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.

As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvements compared to its previously dilapidated state.

The shop took on a rectangular shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty glass jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also displaying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.

Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, “Whose shop is this?”

In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.

[The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]

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