Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!

My eyes fluttered open to the sight of the all-too-familiar ceiling of the dorm room.

For a second, I just stared—expressionless—at the ceiling above me with the memories flashing before my eyes.

"I guess some memories... you just can’t forget them."

That wasn’t a dream. It didn’t feel like one. Weren’t dreams supposed to be twisted fantasies, fragments of imagination scrambled into nonsense?

Not your life. Not your goddamn past projected like some cursed documentary.

What I saw—no, what I remembered—was real.

Crystal clear.

Thɪs chapter is updated by NoveI[F]ire.net

That man... my ’father’—he’d sold me off like cheap furniture to a bunch of local gangsters.

For what? Not for debt. Not out of desperation. Not even out of greed. But because of a doubt. Just a stupid, baseless doubt.

He thought I wasn’t his real son.

That his wife had cheated on him.