Is Bad Ending Party Ending 5 The True Ending?

At the party, Beatrice Sherbird’s close friends surrounded me. “I heard you’ve had a crush on Beatrice since you were a kid. You even insisted on being her husband when you played house. So, do you still have feelings for her now?” Everyone turned to look at me. I looked toward the woman in the corner who was casually pouring a drink and said, “I was young and clueless back then. I probably caused Beatrice a lot of headaches. “Honestly, those feelings faded a long time ago. Besides, I’m actually getting married soon.” I heard the sound of glass breaking. Beatrice stared at her high heels stained with spilled wine. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, and she remained dazed for a long time.

At the dinner celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary, I held the pregnancy test report in my pocket, planning to surprise my CEO husband. However, the moment the doors opened, I froze. A stunning woman stood there with her arm intimately linked through my husband's. She clung to Charles Lawrence with the ease and confidence of someone who clearly belonged at his side, carrying herself like the lady of the house. Neither Charles nor the guests found it strange. If anything, they seemed entertained. Someone even joked, "Mr. Lawrence and Ms. Cooper aren't just ideal partners at work. Their chemistry is something to admire as well. I've personally reserved the presidential suite at Jubilee City's finest resort for Mr. Lawrence tonight. You can be sure no one will disturb you." Fiona blushed and slipped shyly into Charles's arms. He lowered his head and kissed her hard. They fit together so naturally, so intimately, that the sight was unbearably glaring. My thoughts flashed back to the night before, when Charles had pressed me into the bed. In that moment, I had caught sight of a strange message sent by someone named Fiona: [Everyone in the company thinks we've slept together.] Charles had explained that Fiona was only his assistant, a forty-year-old woman, and that the message was nothing more than a punishment from a lost game, a foolish dare. That explanation had dissolved my suspicion and anger. Then, I finally saw the truth. I was the one who had lost everything. Inside my pocket, the pregnancy report was crushed into a tight ball. I forced the tears back, stepped away, and opened the invitation from the National Aerospace Research Institute on my phone. Without hesitation, I tapped Accept. Three days later, I would vanish completely from Charles's world.

I'm a succubus who gathers energy by clearing System missions, adept at the game of love. One day, right after completing a honey trap mission, I was sent to a SSS-level horror game at the very next second. The boss was invincible and bloodthirsty, watching coolly as other players rested in pieces before turning to the rest of us. "Now choose—how do you want to die?" While other players were wetting their pants and trying to find a loophole to survive, I picked up on something different. A handsome, powerful target beneath that cold, horrific exterior. Hence, when he reached me, I smiled enigmatically as I told him my wish. "I wish to be conquered by a truly powerful Entity, dominated from soul to flesh, and to die in pure ecstasy." I watched him pause in shock and added, "Oh, and you must do it yourself."

Zach Lawson was one of the novel's male leads. He was supposed to be deeply loyal and devoted to the female protagonist. But somehow, he fell in love with me—an insignificant supporting character. The system decided that he had swerved too far away from the plot and killed him off with a car crash. I made a deal with the system and revived him in exchange for my chance to return to the real world. His legs were useless after the revival, so I took him everywhere just to find a cure. I stayed with him during his recovery, and I did not leave while he worked his way back up. During the company's celebratory event, a reporter asked him what his drive for success was. He smiled gently. "Someone I owe my life to." The edges of my eyes went red, but then I realized he was not looking at me. It was on a woman in the first row, who was wiping her tears away. This novel's female protagonist. The crowd applauded. A system notification popped up. "Five years have passed. The promise is fulfilled. Will you return to the real world?" I looked at him. He was walking toward Rainie Quinton. "What happens after I leave?" "He'll be killed off, like he was supposed to be." "I see," I said. Then I thought, 'I'm leaving, Zach. And this time, it's for real.'

For as long as I can remember, my family and I have been living in an underground basement that's completely shut off from the outside world. My parents have told me that the zombie apocalypse is terrorizing the outside world. The air is completely plagued with the zombie virus, and we'll die if we ever leave the basement. In order to save the supplies—which are already dwindling, to begin with—I've starved myself to the point I'm all skin and bones despite being only 18 years old. When I realize that there's only one last can of food left, I leave behind a suicide note. "Mom, Dad, now there's one less mouth to feed. You'll last a few more days." After that, I slit my wrist right away. Once I'm dead, my soul phases through the thick and heavy metal door. Bright sunlight illuminates the entire world. It's a beautiful, peaceful world filled with greenery. I can even hear birds chirping in the distance. Mom, Dad, and a bunch of people are throwing a barbecue party on the lawn. The mouth-watering smell of food being grilled permeates the air. So, it turns out that the zombie apocalypse is just a lie that's designated to trap me inside the fortress. I'm the only one who has died in this sunny, peaceful world.

On the eve of our wedding, Olivia Smith tells me that she wants to attend a bachelorette party. Not wanting to disappoint her, I agree to let her go. I even tell her to not drink that much at the party. She leaves a kiss on my cheek bashfully and tells me that she will make me the happiest man tomorrow. But on the next day, I can't reach OIivia via phone at all. Instead, I notice a post her childhood friend, Aiden Jones, has uploaded to his Instagram feed. "Tomorrow, you'll become another man's wife. Please let me claim you one last time." There's a close-up photo of two people smushing their cheeks together. After putting down my phone quietly, I inform everyone that the wedding has been canceled.