What Happens At The End Of The Dionaea House?

I was Apollo’s most devoted follower, the lover he handpicked from a sea of worshippers. With me, he’d always shed his divine arrogance. He was so tender, so attentive. I actually thought he loved me to the bone. Until seven days before our Consort Ceremony, when I used my gift of prophecy to peek into our future together. I expected to see a lifetime of blinding love. Instead, I saw him violently tangled in the sheets with my adopted sister, Cassandra. Wrapped around him, Cassandra giggled. "You're so good to me, my Lord. Thanks to you, I'll finally get my sister's Sight and take her place as High Priestess." And Apollo—my god, my lover—smiled down at her with pure adoration. "Whatever makes you happy, little bird. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have played pretend for this long, let alone allow her to become a god's consort." In that split second, my heart turned to ash. My faith shattered into a million pieces. With seven days left until the ceremony, I didn't confront them. Instead, I fell to my knees before the altar of Hades, Lord of the Underworld. "I offer you my gift of prophecy. I will be your most loyal follower in exchange for your sanctuary." "Please. Take me away from here. Take me somewhere Apollo can never find me."

My husband Hades gave another woman my birthday celebration. Then he gave her my mother’s brooch. Then he let our son call her home. Nympha was the flower spirit who had grown up beside him. The healers said a curse was killing her, and she had only six months left before she disappeared forever. Hades said he only wanted her final days to be free of regret. So I was expected to be generous. Even when our five-year-old son, Eren, curled up beside her at the hearth and whispered that she felt more like home than I did, I still told myself he was only a child. Then one night, I heard him say to Hades, “Nympha is so gentle. So beautiful. I wish Mother could be more like her.” Hades only smiled. “Your mother is strict because she wants what is best for you,” he said. “But if you like Nympha so much, I can let her stand beside you at the family altar. She can bless you like a second mother.” That was when I finally understood. My husband had already given her my place. And my son had accepted her there. So the next morning, I placed a marriage dissolution agreement before Hades. He signed it without reading, because Nympha had collapsed again and he was desperate to reach her.By the time he realized what he had signed, I was already gone. If they wanted Nympha to be the lady of the Underworld, I would grant them their wish. But why, after I left, did Hades tear the Underworld apart looking for me? Why did my son cry himself sick, begging for the mother he once pushed away? And why did the dying woman they protected so carefully suddenly stop looking so fragile?

I was adopted. They were so good to me that every night before I fell asleep, I prayed to grow up healthy and happy in this home. Then Mom got pregnant. I hid under my covers and cried all night, quietly packing the little suitcase I had arrived with. But they didn't send me away. They loved me even more. The day my brother was born, Mom took my hand and gently stroked my head. "Having an older sister," she said, "is why we have a younger brother." Dad lifted me above his head and spun me around laughing. "Lily is our family's lucky star — our most beloved baby!" I finally stopped dreading every single day. I thought I had truly become part of this family. Then my brother snapped my favorite Barbie in half. I pushed him. He stumbled, sat on the floor, stared for two seconds, and burst into tears. Mom panicked, shoved me aside, and pulled him into her arms, asking over and over if he was hurt. Dad came running. He grabbed my shoulders and slammed me against the wall, eyes blazing. "Is this what I raised you all these years for — to bully your brother? Believe me when I say I will send you straight back to—"

A 24-year-old girl is fresh from break up so she goes to her homeland to spend time with her family. After a while back in her parents' house, her mother tells her that there is a famous bar in the city where people tends to have fun. Her mother invites her to visit the said place and find a man whom she can start a new with. The latter agrees. The next day, they go to the said bar and find out that it is inside a hotel called, The Passion House. Everything inside the hotel is extravagant and there, she figures that her mother has been given a voucher for two inside the best bar in the city and the only way inside a bar is through a dream. Little do they know that an adventure awaits them at the entrance.

After five years of marrying into the Loween City in place of my sister, the Gambling King finally passed away. My son and my ex-husband—at long last—gave me permission to fake my death and return to them. But they laid down three conditions. First: kneel before Vivian Gray, apologize for framing her all those years ago, and surrender my place as Mrs. Hartwell. Second: work as a live-in maid for my own son for five years, and never show up at his school in my former identity as the reigning queen of the nightlife scene—lest I embarrass him. Third: drink an abortifacient to destroy my fertility forever, as recompense for the infertility I once caused Vivian. "My lady, you've endured five whole years just to earn your freedom—how dare they humiliate you like this?" My maid's eyes were red, burning with indignation on my behalf. But I just tipped my head back and swallowed the death-faking pill, letting the servants toss my "corpse" into the overgrown brambles beyond the city limits. Then, from the mud and weeds, I crawled back to the Hartwell mansion—one knee at a time. Day one, I knelt as ordered and signed over custody of my son without a fight. Day three, I locked myself in the storage closet and stopped showing up at school to pick my son up like I used to. I also stopped pestering him to call me "Mom." Even when Vivian—knowing full well I'm terrified of the dark—deliberately trapped me in the basement, I bore it in silence. By the time my ex-husband Nathan Hartwell saw me again, I was barely hanging on. For the first time, a flicker of panic crossed his face as he carried me out of that basement. But my son just sneered. "It's just another stunt to win our sympathy." When he caught the tears welling in Vivian's eyes, Nathan coldly dropped me to the ground. "Always scheming against Vivian with your dirty tricks—aren't you tired of it?" Right then, the system chimed in my ear: [Please proceed to the "disposable ex-wife death node" to complete the story line and return to your original world.] I let out a quiet laugh. "Not tired at all." And with that, I turned and dove straight into the swimming pool beside me.

At my daughter's high school graduation party, she greeted me with a bouquet containing her wish list. "My dearest Mom! "My life truly begins at eighteen! "This is the first step toward rebuilding my social image and starting an entirely new life! "Thank you, Mom, for supporting me completely!" The list tucked into the bouquet included the newest phone, tablet, laptop, and earbuds. Together, the smaller items cost more than five thousand dollars. But the final line, printed in bold red letters, stabbed into my eyes like the point of a knife: Helena Abernathy must give Chloe Collins a house free of charge. The property will be for Chloe's exclusive use, and no one else will be permitted inside. I stared at the bouquet, while the soul that had died unjustly in my previous life trembled inside my body. Last time, I carried that bouquet home and tossed and turned all night. In the end, I still tried to discuss it with my daughter. "Chloe, about the house... I truly can't afford it right now." "Could we possibly..." Chloe was silent for three seconds before accusing me through tears. "I knew it! You never loved me. You only love yourself!" My photograph, address, and workplace were posted across social media. Then came the online attacks, the doxxing, the red paint splashed across my door, and the suspension from my job. When I stood on a rooftop, unable to endure the abuse any longer, the people below kept recording and shouting: "Jump! If you aren't guilty, why would you jump?" This time, I looked down at the bouquet in my arms and smiled. I didn't want the list. And I didn't want this daughter anymore.