Medieval Renaissance Outfits Male

The night I confessed my love to my girlfriend, she wept so hard she could barely breathe. She said she had seen the future, and she wanted to make a promise with me. I asked her why. She only shook her head and said, "I don't remember… all I know is that in the future I regret something terribly. Frank, no matter what happens, you must give me three chances. Will you?" I was deeply in love with Agnes Grey, so I agreed without hesitation. But later, it was as if she had forgotten all about that night—forgotten it when she clung so intimately to her male assistant. Only then did I understand why she'd made me promise that all those years ago. Because the moment I signed my name on the divorce papers, I heard a familiar voice. It was Agnes at nineteen. Through her sobs, she pleaded, "Frank… you promised me, didn't you? You said you'd give me three chances."

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.

A blizzard is approaching. Yet my mountain guide girlfriend, Clover Ainsley, insists on waiting for her childhood sweetheart, Elliot West, to return to the group before leading everyone down the mountain. In order to save everyone's lives, I keep pleading with her to take us down the mountain first. Finally, she reluctantly agrees to my pleas and takes us home. Unexpectedly, Elliot is trapped in a cave afterward. He ends up freezing to death because help never comes to him. Clover claims that she doesn't regret saving me and the rest of the group. In fact, she even proposes to me afterward. But on the night of our engagement, she poisons me and drags me to the snow mountain. "If it wasn't for you demanding me to leave the mountain, Elliot wouldn't have died! He was the billionaire's son, you know! You can't even compare to him at all! "He had died naked, and his stomach was filled with snow! I want you to suffer the same way he did!" After that, Clover strips me naked and pushes me into a snow mound. When my body goes all stiff from the cold, she drags me to a high ledge before throwing me off the ledge. Just like that, my body shatters into pieces because of how brittle I've become. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day the blizzard is about to come. If Clover wants to wait for Elliot, who's taken on my identity as the billionaire's son, then she can go ahead and do that. I'm not going to meddle with their fate this time.

Je m’appelais Mosis, ingénieur en génie civil, passionné par l’histoire et les civilisations anciennes. Ma vie s’est brutalement arrêtée dans un accident… pour reprendre dans un trône froid, au cœur d’un royaume en ruine. Désormais, je suis Rolland Frostmar, roi d’un territoire oublié, haï par son peuple, méprisé par ses vassaux. Mais je ne suis pas revenu les mains vides. Un Système de Renommée s’est activé à mon arrivée. Pour chaque action significative – victoire militaire, réforme réussie, invention utile – je gagne des Points de Renommée, échangeables contre des technologies, des savoirs perdus, ou même des innovations modernes. Agriculture, médecine, armement, industrie… à condition d’avoir la sagesse de choisir quand et comment avancer. Car chaque progrès a son prix. Trop d’innovations peuvent bouleverser l’ordre établi. Une réforme mal pensée peut déclencher une révolte. Et chaque ennemi vaincu en attire trois autres. Nobles arrogants, prêtres fanatiques, rois rivaux et traîtres dans l’ombre... tous veulent ma chute. À travers le feu, la ferraille et les complots, je reconstruirai ce royaume. Je ne suis pas un héros. Je suis un bâtisseur. Un stratège. Un roi. Et avec ce système… je forgerai une légende.

When I returned to the corporate research and development press conference, I knew Tyler Zach would step forward to accuse our team of plagiarism, yet I chose to turn a blind eye. In my previous life, Tyler’s accusation had caused Nelson Corporation to instantly lose ten percent of its core interests. Back then, I stepped up and single-handedly saved the day. Not only did I ensure the press conference ended smoothly, but I also used the opportunity to elevate the company’s reputation to new heights. However, I was eventually betrayed. My first love, Rosie Nelson, fabricated evidence against me and sent me to prison. Even the results of my project were falsely credited to Tyler. I refused to believe it. I bombarded her with questions and demanded answers. Rosie’s eyes were filled with guilt, but she only replied, “Evan, Tyler came from humble beginnings. He can’t afford to lose this once-in-a-lifetime chance to make a name for himself! “Don’t worry. We’ll get married once you’re out.” I fought desperately to appeal, but I was beaten to death in prison. I wondered if Rosie could handle the company’s losses without me fighting tooth and nail to turn things around this time. I did not expect Rosie to turn to me at the most critical moment of the conference with panicked eyes and urge me desperately, “Evan! Why aren’t you on stage explaining everything yet?!”

On my way back from a business trip, I scrolled past a video. A newborn was abandoned by the roadside, crying so hard. As a first time dad, I couldn’t help looking at the baby a little longer. I froze because that baby looked exactly like my son. I had booked the best confinement center in the city for my wife. I had checked them into a VIP suite. I had employed a nanny and a nursing team to look after my wife and my son full-time. I broke out in a cold sweat. My wife didn’t check her phone, so I immediately called the center's manager, Ms. Thompson. She laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Smith. Your wife and baby are perfectly fine. They just fell asleep.” The next second, she sent me a photo of my sleeping baby. I stared at the tiny, unfamiliar face. In that instant, the blood in my body turned to ice. I was only gone for four days. So how was my son a different person?

Due to my heightened sensitivity, even the slightest touch causes an uncontrollable reaction. My husband, concerned, sends me to the hospital for treatment. As I lie on the operating table, the attending doctor unexpectedly triggers a wave of intense response from me—right in front of my husband.

Some time ago, I was a delivery boy. One day, I received an order to deliver adult toys. When I went to the hotel room, I found a beautiful woman kneeling on a bed with her back turned to me. She only wore a thong. At that moment, I received a message on the delivery app. "Use the toys to bring her pleasure. If you do well, I will reward you with one hundred thousand dollars."

After returning from my business trip, I saw my wife lying on the couch in an alluring position. I initially thought it was a surprise, but the next moment, I spotted a hidden camera in the corner of the TV cabinet. It turned out that my wife had been secretly...

On the day we chose our college majors, the influencer who was the school's heartthrob held a livestream and announced that he had decided to lead the anti-rat-race movement and would choose to attend a vocational college. The whole class followed him. Seeing the rapidly increasing number of followers, he smiled smugly. "They can do these low-class jobs if they like. I'll change my choice back to Harvard University at the last minute." I tried to dissuade him, but this would cause network congestion. My girlfriend slapped me. "You nerd! Who are you to tell our idol, Zach Simpson, what to do?" In my previous life, I spent half an hour dissuading them, and only then did the students change their college choices. However, Zach failed to change his application due to network lag and was admitted to a vocational college instead. He could not bear the blow and jumped into the river to commit suicide. The students who had entered prestigious universities collectively vented their anger on me. At the class reunion, they poured 99 bottles of beer down my throat and locked me in the karaoke's freezer. "Who cares about the prestige of a prestigious university? You'll just be working for someone else after graduation anyway!" "Why did we follow Zach in the first place? Wasn't it to break this damn rule?" "Zach was leading us to realize our dreams! If you hadn't interfered, I would already have gone to a vocational college with him!" They spoke disdainfully of prestigious universities, yet not one of them chose to drop out. I froze to death in a dark, cold freezer, my eyes wide open. Years later, they became elites in their respective fields, while my parents could only weep looking at my portrait. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Zach was livestreaming in the classroom. This time, I promised I would not interfere. Instead, I wished them a happy vocational college experience.