Novels by Sweet Magaret

The heavy titanium airlock behind Ethan sealed with an airtight, mechanical thud that reverberated in the pit of his stomach.Inside Subterranean Cell 09, the ambient pressure was suffocating, thick enough to make Ethan's ears pop instantly. The artificial gravity warped and buckled under the weight of Marcus's uncontained S-Rank aura. Heavy concrete debris, sheared metal bolts, and shattered glass from destroyed monitoring pods hung suspended in mid-air, drifting around the nineteen-year-old Esper like debris orbiting a dying star.Marcus didn't move from his crouch immediately, but his feral, violet-tinged eyes remained locked onto Ethan. A thin trickle of dark blood leaked from Marcus's left nostril, trailing down his sharp jawline and dripping onto his sweat-stained black undershirt. His chest rose and fell in ragged, shallow gasps, his entire frame shuddering as the telekinetic plasma arcing across his skin scorched the lead-lined floorboards beneath his combat boots.Ethan didn'

The elevator shaft did not simply descend; it plummeted into the cold, dense bedrock beneath the city.With every hundred feet they dropped, the temperature inside the reinforced steel cab plummeted. Frost formed in thin, crystalline feathers along the edges of the magnetic suppression cuffs locked around Ethan’s wrists. The air grew thick and heavy, smelling faintly of sulfur, scorched tungsten, and the distinct, metallic tang of raw static electricity.Ethan stood rigid between the two armored guards, his chest rising and falling in tight, shallow breaths. His mind was spinning out of control, fueled by a dangerous mixture of tactical panic and bitter, poisonous humiliation.Twenty-two years old. Four years of blood, sweat, and combat accolades as a B-Class Operative. He had led breaching squads into dark-sector anomaly nests. He had earned three commendations for frontline valor. And now, stripped of his sidearm, stripped of his uniform, and stripped of the blue flame that had defi

The sharp, metallic clatter of surgical instruments being aligned on a stainless-steel tray echoed through the freezing air of Operating Room 4.Ethan lay flat on his back on the narrow operating table, his body rigid beneath the sterile blue sheets. Above him, the colossal overhead surgical lamps burned like three blinding, silver suns. Orderlies moved around him in quiet, rehearsed efficiency, attaching adhesive heart-monitor pads to his chest and securing a pulse oximeter to his left index finger. To his right, Dr. Bradley stood under the harsh light, snapping heavy latex gloves over his hands while an anesthesiologist fitted a clear, soft rubber mask over Ethan's nose and mouth."Alright, Ethan," the anesthesiologist's voice sounded muffled, coming as if from the bottom of a deep well. "We are starting the propofol drip now. Take long, deep breaths through the mask. Count down from ten for me."Ethan drew in a cold, synthetic breath. The gas filled his lungs instantly, chilling hi

Tuesday morning brought a room packed with adults, but Ethan had never felt more completely isolated in his life.The storm outside was beating a steady, dreary rhythm against the double-paned glass window, sending gray rivulets of rainwater trailing down the pane. Inside, the room felt suffocatingly warm, thick with the heavy scent of antiseptic, cold coffee, and suppressed panic. Dr. Bradley, a tall, stern-faced man with slicked-back gray hair and a cold, clinical precision, stood at the foot of the bed holding Ethan’s black-and-white MRI films against an illuminated wall lightbox.Ethan’s parents sat side-by-side in the uncomfortable vinyl chairs against the far wall, holding hands so tightly that their knuckles had turned completely white. His mother’s eyes were swollen and red from another sleepless night, while his father sat with his broad shoulders hunched forward, staring at the floor as if he could physically bear the weight crushing his family. Near the closed wooden door,

Ethan spent the entirety of Saturday night weeping until there was nothing left inside him but a hollow, rasping cough. His eyes were so swollen and bloodshot that the harsh yellow fluorescent light from the hallway hurt to look at. He had cried himself to sleep with his face buried in the rough linen of the hospital pillow, clinging to a desperate, foolish hope that the entire ordeal was just a terrifying nightmare, that he would open his eyes in his own bed at home, pull on his basketball sneakers, and head out to morning practice with his leg intact.When he woke up on Sunday morning to the low, rhythmic hum of the IV pump, the suffocating reality set in once again. His right leg sat heavy and immobile in its massive white plaster shell, a concrete anchor holding him down to the bed. His parents had stayed by his side through the entire night, sleeping in turns on the uncomfortable vinyl armchair, quietly wiping away their own tears whenever they thought Ethan was asleep.The rest

The smell hit him before the light did. A sharp, suffocating mixture of industrial bleach, cold floor wax, and the faint, sweet trace of lavender disinfectant.Ethan clawed his way out of the darkness slowly, his senses returning in fragmented, heavy waves. The first thing he registered was the cold air on his skin, followed immediately by a low, rhythmic sound echoing off the bare walls: beep... beep... beep.He opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh, pale yellow glow of a private hospital room.To his right, his mother was collapsed into a vinyl armchair. Her face was buried in her hands, her shoulders shuddering with quiet, desperate sobs that she was trying and failing to muffle against her palms. Her worn leather purse sat on the linoleum floor beside her shoes, looking tiny and battered under the harsh overhead lights.Standing right beside the bed was his father.Ethan froze, his breath catching in his throat. His dad was a broad, quiet man who worked sixty hours a week ha

The heavy rain had cleared by morning, leaving the village air fresh, cool, and thick with the scent of damp earth and petrichor. Soft sunlight broke through the lingering gray clouds, casting long, golden reflections across the muddy puddles scattered along the lane.Inside his bedroom, Lu Chen sat on the edge of his narrow bed, staring blankly down at his hands.His fingertips still tingled with the ghost of a thrill—a terrifying, hot pulse that replayed every time he closed his eyes. The memory of Gu Yan's firm grip guiding his hand, the staggering, solid heat beneath his palm, and the breathless, possessive intensity of that rain-soaked kiss wouldn't leave him.What am I doing? Lu Chen buried his face in his hands, letting out a muffled groan. He's blackmailed me into kissing him every day... so why am I not actually running away? Why does my body act like it's been waiting for this?He couldn't deny it anymore. It wasn't just physical confusion or the lingering fragments of that

Later that evening, the heavy summer rain beat down relentlessly against the roof of the neighbors' rustic cottage, filling the quiet interior with the soothing, steady rhythm of falling water.Inside the dimly lit living room, the atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension.Xie Huai sat on the edge of the low wooden sofa, a bottle of cold beer resting between his massive hands as he stared silently at the wooden floorboards.The bedroom door clicked open, and Gu Yan stepped out, shedding his wet linen shirt and tossing it casually over a wooden chair. He wore only a pair of thin trousers, his pale chest gleaming under the warm yellow lamplight. Without a word of warning, Gu Yan walked straight over to the sofa, swung his long leg over, and straddled Xie Huai's lap, sitting heavily across the large man's broad thighs.Xie Huai didn't even flinch, merely lifting his dark, intense eyes to glare at the arrogant professor hovering over him. "What the hell are you doing?"Gu Yan leaned for

Two days passed after the shared kiss, and the quiet arrangement between Lu Chen and Gu Yan continued under a veil of high tension.Lu Chen had tried his best to act normal around Xie Huai during the day. Whenever the large, broad-shouldered neighbor stopped by the fence to check on his health or hand him fresh fruit from town, Lu Chen would force a polite smile and keep his distance—all while his heart beat wildly, replaying the gravelly voice from his dream and the gentle kiss he had stolen while Xie Huai was sleeping under the banyan tree.Xie Huai remained his usual quiet, protective self, blissfully unaware of the secret contract bound between his cottage partner and the boy he loved.By Saturday afternoon, the sky grew dark with rolling storm clouds, trapping the heat close to the ground. A heavy, humid breeze rustled the cornfields as the village prepared for an oncoming downpour.Lu Chen was out in the side yard, frantically gathering dry laundry off the clothesline before the

The night air was cool, but Lu Chen felt as though he were standing over an open flame."I—I said it's nothing!" Lu Chen hissed, his voice cracking into an embarrassing squeak as he frantically clamped his arms over the plastic basin, trying to block their view of his soaked, ruined underwear. "I just... I spilled a whole glass of water on my clothes while drinking in bed! That's all!"Gu Yan's dark eyes flickered with a quiet, razor-sharp amusement. He took another slow, lazy drag of his cigarette, the tip glowing faint orange against his pale, porcelain features, before flicking the ash onto the dirt. He knew exactly what a young man washing his shorts at two in the morning meant. But instead of exposing him in front of Xie Huai, Gu Yan merely slanted a teasing, secretive look down at Lu Chen's flaming red face."Spilled water, was it?" Gu Yan purred softly, a dark, velvet thread of blackmail laced in his tone that made Lu Chen's stomach do a nervous backflip. "How terribly careless

The summer night brought no relief from the stifling heat. Outside, crickets chirped a relentless rhythm in the tall grass, while inside the small bedroom, the air hung thick and motionless.Lu Chen tossed violently on his narrow bed. The thin cotton sheets were twisted around his waist, damp with sweat. His chest rose and fell in shallow, rapid breaths as his mind drifted far away from the quiet countryside, sinking deep into the suffocating fog of a dream.Except... this didn't feel like a dream at all.In his sleep, the rough wooden walls of his mother's cottage vanished, replaced by the cool expanse of a high-rise penthouse bedroom. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows framed a sprawling city skyline glittering like a bed of diamonds beneath a midnight sky. Soft, expensive silk sheets cooled his bare skin, smelling faintly of rich amber and dark cedar.He was pinned softly between two heavy, familiar bodies.To his right, Xie Huai's broad, iron-hard chest pressed firmly against his back

Two days had passed since the washhouse incident, and Lu Chen was still thoroughly traumatized. Every time he looked at the neighboring plot, his brain unhelpfully replayed vivid, high-definition images of broad shoulders, gleaming wet skin, and absurdly oversized anatomy.He had spent forty-eight hours actively dodging both men, hiding inside whenever he heard a tractor engine or a smooth, teasing voice.By Thursday afternoon, the summer heat had settled over the village in a heavy, suffocating blanket. Mama Lu had gone into town with Auntie Mei to negotiate vegetable prices, leaving the house completely silent. Bored and restless, Lu Chen wandered out to the back boundary fence to borrow a heavy pair of shears his mother had left near the tool shed.As he reached the shade of the massive banyan tree that stretched across both properties, he paused.Stretched out on a long wooden bench beneath the cool canopy of leaves was Xie Huai. The large man was fast asleep, one broad arm thrown