Two Realms Shuttle Gate: Don't Call Me a Demon! - Chapter 651 - 395: Punishment_2

Joanne Smith, weighed down by significant debt and humiliated by Jeffrey Winchester's cruel rejection just a day before their wedding, transformed her life into that of a multi-millionaire entrepreneur, allowing love to fade into memory.Joanne had one rule in life: money first, emotions later. She built an empire from the ground up, balancing her booming logistics company with the peace of her family farm.When a rugged stranger shows up, desperate for a place to stay, Joanne reluctantly takes him in as a paying guest. But little does she know, he’s not just any guest. He’s the man who brutally rejected her years ago, the one she’s long since forgotten.And he remembers everything differently.Now, living under her roof, he’s fueled by the sting of his own downfall and a hunger for revenge.Will the truth tear her world apart—or bring a reckoning neither of them saw coming?Join me on this incredible journey to find out!I will provide daily updates, and I would love to hear your thoughts in the comments. Please consider leaving a review and supporting me with GTs, Power Stones, and gifts.I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it!

The protagonist, Punk, is a cautious, cold-blooded, and ruthless Mage.

His goal is always his top priority, over feelings or morality. When unnecessary, he doesn’t like to act like pigs to eat tigers; there are almost no life and death struggles, sometimes risky but steady progress. No strong enemy everywhere, Instead, Punk is always a strong enemy of others.

And he has a very keen interest in the secrets and teachings of the Netheril civilization.

He is the master of six kingdoms. As long as he wanted, his cavalry is ready to wipe off any country.

I am Racist.…I mean, my name is Racis T.I was a stand-up comedian. The flop kind. The type who only got laughs when someone else was roasting him.One night, I was doing a gig at a shady, run-down bar—the kind where tattooed bikers drink motor oil for breakfast. I went in with my usual dark humor, but my jokes were getting the same reaction as my dating profile: complete silence.That didn’t sit right with my inner artist, who was already starving to death. So I did what any committed comedian would—I went darker.Turns out, one of my jokes (or all of them?) triggered a guy so hard that he pulled a trigger. Headshot. Instant death.But hey, look at this: A guy got triggered, so he pulled the trigger. That’s wordplay. But who cares? I’m dead anyway.All I wanted was a successful show, people laughing, and maybe a few girls swooning over my wit. I never cared about money. The millions I’d have made would have gone to charity—specifically, 0.001% of it. See? I’m generous like that.Anyway, death is death. My story should’ve ended there.But… if there is an afterlife, I had a simple wish: become a successful comedian, find a loving wife, and have just enough money to afford three meals a day… and maybe a humble little private yacht. Or a jet. But that’s it. Because, like I said, I don’t care about money.Unfortunately, wishes don’t work that way.Because, well—there was an afterlife.And it was absolutely not what I wished for.