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My Vengeful Husbands Demand A Remarriage

Chapter 5 

Word Count: 829    |    Released on: Today at 18:51

e allowed himself to lean against the wall, exhausted. He started back down the corridor, his steps he

to the size of a large teddy bear, curled

Elias

malnutrition that he was forced to remain in this low-en

open his round, dark eyes. Seeing Car

s dry, matted fur. He knew Elias had been guarding the basement

from his pocket. He twisted off th

out instinctively, but then he seemed to realize what it was.

in a slurred, beastly

red, forcing a reassuring tone. He couldn't bring himself to say J

he tube greedily. His small, shrunken belly expanded slightly. A look of pure, blissful sa

t the 5,000 credit balance on her sc

"advanced nutrient solution" into the search bar. The

edits. P

ent away, plus herself. The basic daily energy requirement was enormous. The cheap, ten-credit nutrient packs

She set the purchase

5,000 credits. H

confirm p

ssful. Your order will be delivered b

w it was a necessary investment. This was the cost of buying back a sliver of trust and re

weakness washed over her. Her body was running on

oat. She closed her eyes and forced herself into the state of shallow, hyper-aware sleep she

electronic chime of the villa's m

first floor. On the security monitor, a young man in a Star-Express uniform stood outside the armo

ton. Her voice was cold and ha

. Janna remotely unlocked the main gate, allowing him to push the conta

one look at the icy expression on Janna's face and he wisely kept h

id. Inside, one hundred tubes of advanced nutrient solution we

d drained the contents. The high-concentration energy liquid flowe

subsided almost instantly. Str

eath. Her eyes were

to face he

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My Vengeful Husbands Demand A Remarriage
My Vengeful Husbands Demand A Remarriage
“I survived ten years in the apocalypse, only to transmigrate into the body of the most despised woman in the Galactic Empire. When I opened my eyes, I was holding a bloody whip, straddling a beastman husband the original owner had just tortured. The mechanical system in my head immediately issued a death sentence. "In two months, your trial marriage ends. Your six abused husbands will be legally permitted to tear you apart." The original host was an absolute monster. She beat them, starved them, stole their meager military stipends for luxury goods, and even sent two of them to a deadly alien warzone just to impress her high-society friends. Now, I was left with her massive debts, a blocked power core, and the terrifying reality of six powerful, vengeful beastmen plotting my murder in the basement. I inherited all her sickening sins, and the crushing weight of their justifiable hatred felt like a suffocating nightmare. How was I supposed to survive when the people I lived with were just waiting for the legal countdown to snap my neck? But an apocalypse survivor doesn't just roll over and die. I pawned the original's useless designer bags, bought the highest-grade nutrient solutions, and called my would-be murderers into the living room. "I know you hate me, and you have every right to," I told them calmly. "We are getting a divorce."”