
![[ENG DUB] The Student Who Built a War Machine](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
Zac Lowe is a student who moonlights as a welder. One day, he receives an order that has requested a 16-foot mecha. In fact,the more sci-fi it looks, the better! Apparently, the beautiful customer who has placed this order wishes to give the mecha to her scientist grandpa as his birthday gift. She also makes sure to claim that she's super rich.Since building a 16-foot mecha is far too difficult, Zac is about to give up on the order when he accidentally awakens a Supreme God-Tier Technology System,which allows him to successfully build the huge mecha.At the scientist's birthday banquet, the mecha makes its first appearance there. Its extremely cool and polished appearance instantly attracts everyone's attention. This leaves the customer feeling very confused.Now that she thinks about it, she might have accidentally written the wrong measurements when it comes to the mecha's height…Everyone merely thinks the mecha is just a decorative model, nothing more. But when bright blue flames erupt from the mecha's thrusters, waves of hot air propelling from it instantly steamrolls the entire scene, causing the guests to topple from their seats in shock.

Pet shop owner Vivien Jay accidentally ends up in a flash marriage with Shaun Gall, the No. 1 rich man in her city. Due to a misunderstanding, Shaun has to disguise his identity and keep his wealth a secret. What hilarious and unexpected stories will unfold between Vivien, who believes her husband is just an ordinary man, and Shaun, who is a real big shot?

My fiance, Victor Blackwood, is a mafia boss who rules the country's underworld with an iron fist. To the rest of the world, he is the epitome of power. Yet to me, he is the embodiment of love. But I do not realize the cost of loving a man like him. On Valentine's Day, I cook his favorite dishes and wait for him to come home. However, time passes, and his chair stays empty. Uneasy, I go to Queenie Stone's social media page. She is Victor's foster sister. She posts, "All I said was that I felt lonely, and he came right away. "Even when I accidentally spilled wine on him, he didn't mind. Victor is still someone who puts family first, even if it means neglecting his lover. "He never lets me down. I hope things stay that way." In the photo, Victor's shirt is soaked at the waist. Queenie's handkerchief lingers near his most private parts, but he doesn't pull away. He merely looks at her affectionately. I do not make a fuss and give Queenie's post a like. Then, I send Victor a message that reads, "Let's break up." Victor ignores it as always. Later, I discover that when my breakup message popped up, he had said offhandedly, "Vivienne can't live without me. She's just acting out. "If I ignore her for a few days, she'll come crawling back by herself. She's easy to please." What he doesn't know is that I was easy to handle only because I once loved him. But now that I have decided to leave, he cannot make me turn back, no matter how he tries to win me over.

I was born with a built-in fortune system. Whenever I'm happy, everyone around me makes money. To keep me in a good mood, my billionaire father takes me out on adventures every single day, showering me with limited-edition sneakers, private yacht charters, and one-of-a-kind luxury items. It all comes down to one thing: the Connolly Group's luck is tied directly to my emotional state. As long as I'm laughing hard enough to snort, the stock price climbs and the money pours in. The moment my mood tanks, the losses start. At worst, the whole thing goes bankrupt. Take last month. One of the cleaning staff accidentally tossed out half a macaron I'd left sitting on the counter, and I was mildly annoyed for about a second. The next day, the Connolly Group's West Coast division posted a hundred-million-dollar loss. Dad spent the entire night buying up ten gourmet bakeries and terminating the cleaning company's contract just to smooth things over. After that, nobody in Manhattan's upper-crust social scene dared so much as look at me sideways. That was, until Dad flew out to Los Angeles on business, and Isabella, the long-lost biological daughter who'd just been found, walked into my room. "You've been leeching off this family for years," she said, looking down at me with pure contempt. "Did you actually think draining the Connolly name dry made you the real heiress? I'm the one with Connolly blood. Now that I'm back, it's time for you to crawl out of my house." I didn't react. She picked up the black coffee sitting nearby and poured it straight onto my keyboard. I watched the screen go dark, and something hollow opened up in my chest. "Get on your knees and clean it up." I wiped the coffee off my face. The air had gone cold. The Connolly Group was about to implode, and I found myself wondering whether Dad, thousands of miles away in LA, was already reaching for his heart medication as he watched billions evaporate off the ticker.