Unexpected Encounter: A Second Chance at Love - Chapter 226 Flashback(Owen And Juliana)-IV

“I hesitated before, I turned back to face my shred of hope, yet still no one cared.”“Later the thick fog arose, you said you loved me so much, but why is your love even fainter than the fog, so faint that I can’t even see it clearly.”

A Few Words : All the love that is not worth the applause is rogue and unrestrained.

Shen Qi : If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands.

Gong : Papapa!!!

- Description from Novelupdates

If you had the chance to go back a few years, relive your life, and rewrite your story—armed with a mysterious system designed to help you achieve your dreams—what would you do?This is the tale of Park Adan, a boy who met a tragic and humiliating end, crushed by a falling billboard on his way home. But fate wasn’t done with him yet.Adan wakes up in his bed, three years in the past, with a second chance to change everything. And this time, he’s not alone. With a system to guide him, his journey to rewrite his life begins—filled with challenges, opportunities, and a quest for redemption.Will he succeed in shaping the future he desires, or will the past catch up with him again?

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.”