After Covid, my construction companies went bankrupt.
"I want a divorce!" my wife yelled at me on the day we went bankrupt, blaming me for poor of money, the debts and the injustices forced upon us by others.
In the turmoil, our daughter died due to a lack of money and other unbearable hardships.
When I had lost everything, all I had left was my hollow soul.
Then World War III erupted. Israel, Palestine, Russia, Ukraine, France, the USA, and other nations turned the globe into a stage for what seemed to be the final grand fireworks of humanity.
Driven by a death wish, I joined the mercenaries.
Ironically, the more I longed for death, the more adept I became at dealing death to others. I devised ruthless strategies, slaughtering countless enemies, always surviving, hoping that each battle would be my last.
But somehow, I endured—war after war, year after year, just killing and surviving.
After 20 years on the battlefield, I rose through the ranks and eventually became a Marshall, the pinnacle of military command, at 60.
Through the bonds formed in the trenches, I gained control over one of the most formidable world military forces, now aiming to be the World’s president.
Even the President regarded me with a mix of fear and respect.
Attempts on my life were frequent, but I was too cunning to fall for assassination plots.
Whenever someone dragged me into conflict aiming to take my life, I emerged victorious, growing stronger and more influential with each battle.
What didn’t kill you will make you stronger.
And bad guys live longer. So I tried hard to be a bad guys.
On one day, a scenario I had never imagined unfolded when my butler informed me that the president's granddaughter, who was only 10 years old, wished to meet the hero of the nation.
Despite being the president, I believe he still had a soft spot for his daughter, allowing his granddaughter to meet someone he considered his political rival.
He was aware of my ambition to become the President of the world.
“Old Marshall,” the small young woman ran to me. Young children always reminded me of my lost daughter.
I walked down to her and gave her a big hug. Suddenly she looked at me with tears in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said.
I noticed she was wearing a jacket full of bombs under her beautiful clothes.
I knew what all of this meant. The president, that bastard, was even using this way to sacrifice his own granddaughter to kill me.
‘How ugly can one's heart be?’
"Don't afraid," I replied and hugged her while smiling. "Let's leave this place and go to heaven. I will introduce you to my daughter."
The explosion, triggered by a remote controller aimed at me, occurred. I calmly accepted my fate.
‘I am tired of this life anyway.’
In the emptiness, my heart desires a chance...
‘If only I had a second chance for all my regrets.’
In a white, empty room after death, I found two people sitting opposite me at a table: a devilishly handsome man in black and an angelically beautiful woman in white.
"I will give you a second chance. I will return you to when you were 13 years old, with all your memories intact. What do you think?" asked the man in black with a dangerous smile.
"He is the devil; please don't listen to him," said the beautiful woman in white.
"I am an angel. You are already dead; please go to heaven. This life is a trap of the devil, a samsara that uses humans' negative emotions or sins to empower the devil. You will never get out of life once you indulge yourself in sin."
The man in black laughed. "Remember, you can make all your choices from the start, remake all your decisions. Be what you truly want to be.
Make your heaven on earth, with your own hands. Erase all your regrets, build your empire, and get everything you desire!!! MONEY! WOMEN! POWER!"
The woman gently placed her hand on mine and said "Please understand, the world is an evil trap. Don't have attachment to it. Just go to heaven. Don't indulge yourself in desires and wants. You have already done all the good things, even though you were poor in the world; you will be rich in heaven."
Deep in my heart, I knew I was supposed to choose to go to heaven and end all of this...
But what if...
Only if...
I have a second chance…
I slammed the table and yelled, "Forget heaven! I am done being good, please give me a second chance. I am going to fuck all the girls that show interest in me, I will marry the girl I love the most. I will become rich and start stepping on all the bad rich guys. I want to be the very best version of myself. I want to be the president of the world. Just give me the second chance. I am done being the good guy!"
"I am going to be the baddest human alive!"
The devil clapped his hands, and the angel had a headache.
So this is my story, a second chance with a system.
And suddenly everything turned bright.
In the sleepily moment I was thinking.
‘How many regrets do I have in this life?’
Was it the pretty girl who liked me when I was 13 years old, yet I lacked the courage to make her mine?
‘I'm supposed to kiss her, make love with her, and let her take my virginity whenever she desires.’
Or at 17, when a girl loved me and wanted to make love with me, yet I chose to run away just because of fear or good moral?
‘Fuck good morals? How foolish can one be? I'm supposed to give her my best two hours of non-stop lovemaking with 101 Kama Sutra positions and aim to be the best gigolo on the earth.’
Or at 23, when I had 10,000 bitcoins that I could have kept, but used them just to buy two pizzas? And now, the price of bitcoin is $100,000 per coin.
‘I suppose to have $1,000,000,000 by now, but I used it to eat that fucking pizza.’
At the age of 30, I made the decision to marry a woman who seemed like a safe option because she was poorer than me and didn't threaten my big ego. Yet, she would divorced me for being poor.
Even though my dreams were filled with another woman, the one of my dreams who set my heart ablaze and stirred my mind wildly, someone I felt ready to give my life for.
However, her wealthy, affluent background held me back from confessing my feelings. I was not brave enough to execute a poor son-in-law story in real life; it would be a tragic reality.
‘I am just a poor guy who harbored a dream of marrying someone seemingly out of reach.’
‘A toad dreaming of a swan and dying, drowning in regret.’
‘Regret... regret... and many more regrets...’
Still, I wonder, where did I go wrong in this life? I have done my best; I'm a hard worker and have been a good person.
I never harmed anyone, never did anything bad, never thought of hurting people or stealing because it is not allowed by saints and all religions.
‘Fuck them all.’
I have never been a jerk. I have only been with one woman my entire life, even though I had opportunities for more. I am a kind-hearted man. A perfect example of a gentleman, a righteous person, and a hero.
‘I want a harem; fuck being a good guy!’
I want my second chance!
I want to be villain!
***
After a hazy dream, I awoke on the ground and looked around.
"Give me your money," demanded Roger, a middle school student bully who frequently extorted money from me.
He looked younger, exactly like my middle school memories. He was always flanked by his two followers.
An utterly despicable person, he was foolish yet brave. It's baffling how, in 20 years, he could become a district representative, more successful than me, given his history of only engaging in wrongful acts as a youth.
Each day, I endeavored to avoid him.
I even held my pee because he was always near the toilet, stealing money from people and smoking. But today was different.
I ran out of luck. After he kicked me, causing me to black out briefly, I regained consciousness, with all my memories intact. His face, the one that had often demanded money from me, was etched in my memory.
"What are you staring at? Hand over your damn money. Don't make me wait," Roger ordered.
He kicked me again, but I managed to dodge. Smiling at him, I realized the pettiness of a child's squabble.
However, for a man who had endured war and eliminated nearly a million enemies, retaliation was a thrilling prospect.
I recalled the movements needed for a powerful attack. With my small, untrained body, I executed a flawless jab with the help of my waist, aiming for his nose and breaking it.
It hit perfectly and precisely causing blood from Roger’s nose.
"Let's be a bad guy." I mused.
He didn’t see that coming. And I enjoyed his painful expression.
The others, taken aback, became easy targets for my rapid strikes to their necks.
“You think you can hit me like before without me hitting back!” Overcome with anger, I continued to kick Roger repeatedly until the female students began to cry and called for a teacher to intervene.
Roger collapsed, his friend run away.
"I am back! I am done being the good guy! Screw the world! I am going to destroy the world! No, I will be the first president of the world. I will fuck all kinds of girls, from white to black skins, with rainbow colors in the middle!"
In the muted confines of the school office, I stood before my classroom teacher, his eyes a blend of concern and disappointment. "Alex, what's gotten into you?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You're always the polite one, the brightest in class. Why would you hit Roger?" He leaned forward, earnestly trying to reach me through his words. ‘Who are you? A poor teacher from a small city with a low salary, always complaining about the low income, and experiencing the hardships of frugal life, yet daring to criticize this amazing Marshal?’ ‘Because I listened to you too much in my past life, I grew up poor like you.’ I clenched my fists, feeling a surge of frustration. "Roger has been bullying me and extorting money for two years," I said, my voice a low growl. "I just couldn't take it anymore." My teacher sighed deeply, his gaze softening. "Since this is your first offense, I'll only give you a warning this time. But don't let it happen again. We'll have to call both your
As I strolled out of the school gates, the familiar tune of a Bruno Mars song hummed softly under my breath. Thoughts wandered through my mind, pondering the possibilities of wealth through music. ‘I think I can sell them to some famous singer. But I need the internet. This damn small city of mine has no internet till now. I need to go to a bigger city.’ My worn backpack rested on my shoulders; it was old and ugly, as ugly as my shoes. I moved my arms rhythmically, wielding a stick as if to warm up my body. Suddenly, Roger's voice pierced the air, his finger pointing directly at me. He was flanked by ten of his friends. "Alex, don't you dare to run!" “Roger,” I yelled, “I spent last night with your mother. Fuck her hard. She screamed like a horny bitch. You might find yourself with a new stepbrother soon! Call me Step Daddy now you ungrateful brat!” Enraged, Roger commanded, “Chase him!” Assuming a defensive stance, I readied myself, holding two sticks in front of me, a skill hon
[Karma System] [Your status Health : 50 / 100 max Strength : 20 / 100 max Agility : 20 /100 max Intelligent : 60/100 max Handsomeness : 60 / 100 max First reward all status +2 Health : 52 / 100 max Strength : 22 / 100 max Agility : 22 /100 max Intelligent : 62 /100 max Handsomeness : 62 / 100 max] [New Health quest #2 Walk or run 5 miles. Push up 60 Sit up 60 Reward Strength +1] Great, as long as I can improve myself, little by little, slowly but surely, it means I'm still alive. Even a plant grows; how can humans not grow? Only the deceased remain stagnant. The seed will eventually grow into a mighty tree, and I too will someday transform into... ‘a loser….’ ‘I almost cried again; sometimes, knowing what I will become in the future, a loser, truly saddens me. There is also trauma etched into my soul.’ ‘When you live in poverty for too long, you start to believe that you cannot become rich anymore, and that is a sickness. It requires more money to pay the psychiatr
Roger's expression revealed fear, as he was used to pursuing me and giving chase. It hadn't crossed his mind that I would be the one approaching him. He remained seated at his desk, motionless, and his followers had not yet arrived. "Scared?" I closed in on his desk and delivered a sharp slap to his face with my right hand. "Are you frightened of me?" "Fuck you, Alex!" He stood in fury. "You better like this," I struck his nose a few more times, and students around let out sounds like 'oh,' 'ahh,' 'ouch.' Onlookers observed without daring to intervene. They were well aware of Roger and his followers. "You're quite audacious to invite high schoolers, aren't you?" "Summon them again, and I'll visit your class every day. Don't assume you can harm others without facing repercussions; people can strike back." I kicked him away from his seat and made him fall. I approached him, clutching his neck tightly with my arms, and uttered, "Don't assume that I won't actually kill you if you con
In a hazy daze and numbing of pain, I felt hands gently lifting me, their touch a contrast to the hot asphalt. I felt the sticky sensation of blood matting my hair and tracing a warm path down my neck. They hoisted me into a taxi, the chaos of the scene blurring around me. As the vehicle hurtled towards the nearest hospital, I could only focus on the rhythmic thumping of my heart, echoing my disarray. The taxi's journey ended abruptly, and I was met by a flurry of activity. Nurses, moving with practiced urgency, called for doctors while the world around me faded to black once more. When I next opened my eyes, the sterile, antiseptic scent of the hospital room filled my nostrils. A splitting headache gripped me, as if my skull was being cleaved in two. Alone in the dimly lit room, I surveyed my surroundings, the stillness of the night enveloping me like a shroud. Yet it was pain, an old acquaintance from my days as a soldier, that truly awakened me. It surged through me, a reminder o
Prostitution and gambling, two occupations that have persisted through the ages, remain unaltered by the march of time. These endeavors, frequently viewed as swift avenues to riches and equally rapid ways to lose wealth, maintain their hold on the human psyche, their appeal deepening with each successive era.It was June 10th, the onset of the 1998 FIFA World Cup, and though my knowledge of football was limited, I was certain of one thing: the final showdown would be between France and Brazil. These titans, I believed, would effortlessly vanquish their adversaries, claiming victory in every match.As high school commenced in early June 1998, I found myself wandering the familiar corridors of my new school. Despite it being my first year here, a strange sense of déjà vu enveloped me. I could navigate its halls with my eyes closed, knowing each hidden corner and secret rendezvous spot.A wave of nostalgia washed over me as I settled into this familiar yet new environment of my class. I
“Anyway, as a good uncle, can you give Hendrick $100?” I pleaded with Dave, my eyes locked onto his. “I promised him $100 to bring me here, to bet my only $1000. Now, I'm penniless.”Dave half-smiled, a mix of amusement and disbelief dancing in his eyes. “But that was your promise to him.”"I tricked him into coming here to bring you profits for your business. This is called a referral in business. Please, he is your good nephew, and he is trying to help your business grow."Dave shook his head, a reluctant chuckle escaping his lips. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crisp $100 bill, handing it to Hendrick, whose face lit up with joy.“Thanks, uncle,” Hendrick beamed.“Now we're square, right?” I said, clapping Hendrick on the shoulder. He nodded in agreement. “Listen to me, invest your $100 in the 16 games I've picked out. You won't regret it.”Hendrick's expression soured, his brow furrowing. “I need the money for something else, brother.”I shrugged, a wry smile playing o
Early in the morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the mist, I found myself racing toward the infamous gambling den. My heart pounded in my chest like a drum, each beat echoing my urgency. With the heat intensifying and the adrenaline pumping, sweat drenched my neck and clothes."I need to change the bet, the game will be played in mere hours!" I gasped, the words tumbling out in a frantic whirlwind as I burst into the restaurant. The backside, a shadowy gateway to gambling den, was guarded by a lone bodyguard , a tattooed bald guy with big muscles. He sat, an immovable force, right beside the door, his eyes a calm sea of indifference."You cannot enter, kid," the bodyguard stopped me, his voice a low rumble of authority. A faint scent of tobacco lingered around him.“Please, I need to change my betting,” I pleaded, desperation lacing my voice. My hands trembled, betraying my inner turmoil. “It was a staggering $128,000 at stake. My only lifeline. I came here last tim