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Dance with the Nightingale

The Nightingale. The beauty and the taboo existing together. Unattainable and unacceptable. An existence only to be admired from afar. A hero of legends but a also a girl of tragedy. Shining like a star in the sky, all alone, forever… -But that’s too sad isn’t it? * Our MC, an ordinary middle aged man, is an author that wrote books and after pouring 2 years of hard work in a book, his hardwork finally bore fruit as his book got the second prize in the regional awards. A fruit that he couldn't eat. Why? Because he along with hard work, he also poured his piss somewhere he shouldn't and died. Exactly how? Read the prologue, and you will find out~ But of course, that's only the start, as the next time he woke up... He was in another world. Follow the guy as he turns from a middle aged author to a Young Master in a magical world. *** Hey guys author here… It’s my first novel, but I will try to make this good. Good luck me. Vote this book with power stones, it really helps with your support. Before giving up please read Prologue and 1st 10 chapters. Also I have set up prologue to be a bit funny and ridiculous, so, don't mind next chapter won't be like that. My discord server link: https://discord.gg/8dvVYW8QUn P.S.: I don't own the cover art, whoever does can take credit for it.

Kisara_Hiroto · Fantasía
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126 Chs

Chapter 44: Fight with the Tiger.

Standing alone on the makeshift stage, I watched the guest's reactions. Some of them totally got enraged, their expression turning livid, while others had a variety of expressions, but mostly, they weren't that mad.

'As expected of experienced magic users they won't fall for cheap and obvious provocations.'

But it wasn't like my taunt didn't work.

Yes, the nobles were cool and calm, maybe a bit enraged, but still sane enough to not do anything impulsive.

'But they weren't my target in the first place.'

"Is my generation only filled with cowards!!?", I said, after a period of silence, and this time the response was instantaneous.

"I accept!!"

A boy probably a year or two older than me shouted, as he stepped forward.

'You can stay collected as much as you want, but what about your kids?'

A youth with cat ears, whisker marks on cheeks and a long tail.