The Extra Wants Control - Chapter 156 - 12 STAR ATTACK!

My name is Joo In-gong. The name that my parents gave me meant ‘protagonist’ of the world. Really?

Inside the dining room.

Fangzheng: Hello, I’m on a blind date.

Sister Yu: A blind date?

Fangzheng: To make a long story short, I know you are here to deal with your parents. As long as we make it clear, we can go back to our respective homes.

Sister Yu: Do you know who I am?

Fangzheng: I don’t know much, so what do you say? Continue to photograph or?

At this time, a waiter came in and bowed awkwardly to the two of them: I’m sorry sir, I made a mistake, this is not the room you are looking for! Your blind date is next door!

Fangzheng: ….

- Description from novelbuddy

“Epoch” is a world where steam, magic, machinery, alchemy, and extraordinary power coexist.

When Luke, who had traveled over, covered his head and was pointed at his head by an imperial agent with a gun, he decided to tell a lie.

So he became the detective of the Secret Affairs Bureau of the Cape District of the Golden Shield Empire.

Luke, who is familiar with the plot, just wants to save his life in this chaotic world, and get some money and materials to use secret words to enhance his strength.

He robbed, kidnapped, blackmailed, and committed crimes with a plot strategy, but he never thought that he robbed an imperial gold ship, and how did he solve the largest smuggling case in the history of the empire?

As a “fake” detective, holding a promotion order, Luke felt very embarrassed…

- Description from novelbuddy

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”