Which Roblox John Doe Works Highlight The Emotional Turmoil Of Identity And Love In Dystopian Worlds?

Luca Graven, an orphan cursed by poverty, worked under the man loathed the most— Dante Solis. He was a wealthy, powerful mafia leader who had the strongest men, including Luca himself cowering in fear. Unfortunately, Dante took a liking to him. He brought him into his home, enslaved him, treated him like rubbish….but, he never hurt him beyond his limits. Maybe that was why Luca never fully hated him, and maybe, just maybe, that was why he wanted him. Until, a new version of him shows up. He looked exactly like Dante, same voice even, but completely different personalities. This version listened, cared for him, no longer saw him as a mere slave, he nurtured him and treated him like he meant something for once. Of course to Luca, Dante had miraculously grown a heart but that person that showed him kindness and mercy wasn’t Dante. It was Allen Pierce—his doppelganger. Now torn between two different people, yet drawn to each of them and their different souls, he has to make a decision. But they don’t make it easy. Luca wasn’t the only one fighting to choose, they were both fighting to be chosen.

A week before our engagement, I finally learned that the man Madison Clarke had always secretly loved... was me. Overjoyed, I hurried to sign to her, wanting to tell her that I was LeoWinter—the gaming partner she'd been coupled with online. What I got in return was ridicule. "Charlie, how does a mute guy like you manage to pull so many tricks?" "LeoWinter already told me his account got stolen. He switched accounts ages ago. And you still want to pretend you're him?" It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My entire body went rigid. She had forgotten that this game ID was permanently bound to the account. It was impossible for it to be stolen.

I am dying alone in a dark and damp mental asylum. At the same time, my parents are putting on a grand art exhibition for Jane Chamberlain, my sister, in a brilliant exhibition hall. Chase Lister, my boyfriend, is standing right next to her, applauding in celebration. It is supposed to be my achievement, as every piece within this exhibition hall is the product of my painstaking labor, but they now belong exclusively to Jane. I spend my whole life competing with Jane, only to end up with nothing. I open my eyes again and decide not to fight for anything anymore. I just want to live well on my own terms and take good care of myself.

After my husband's death, I long for him so much that it becomes a mental condition. To put me out of my misery, my in-laws order a custom-made robot to be my companion. But I'm only more sorrowed when I see the robot's face—it's exactly like my late husband's. Everything changes when I accidentally unlock the robot's hidden functions. Late at night, 008 kneels before my bed and asks, "Do you need my third form of service, my mistress?"

I am someone with a strong desire to share every little detail with my lover. The blush of dawn outside the safe house window, a slightly-too-bitter espresso, the new flower shop on the corner. Even if Carlo's shadow just flickered through my mind for a moment, I couldn't stop myself from hitting send. His replies were always brief, but they were instant. I used to think that was just how a cold man like him showed his love. That all changed seven days before the wedding, when I found an AI auto-responder on the burner phone he never let out of his sight. It broke down every sentence I sent, categorizing them and extracting keywords to generate the most perfectly dismissive answers. When I said I missed him, it replied, "Behave." When I said I was scared, it replied, "I'll handle it." When I wanted to argue, it replied, "Be sensible." So, for half a year, the one replying to my messages was never Carlo. Meanwhile, in another chat window, the messages between him and another woman were piled high. From simple good mornings to random midnight thoughts, From secret talks about family business to whether they should take the yacht out on the weekend. I finally understood. Carlo wasn't a cold person. It wasn't that he didn't like to share his life; he just didn't want to share it with me. And I finally decided to make a heartbroken exit from this absurd charade.

I'm the type who has the urge to overshare my life with him. It can be anything, be it the flowers blooming by the side of the road, the unpleasant coffee I end up having, or the sunset I've seen when I'm on my way home from work. Heck, when I think of Edwin Howell all of a sudden, I can't resist texting him at all. His replies are always short and perfunctory, though I suppose they count as a form of response from him. Hence, over the past six months, I've relied on these cold-sounding yet present replies to give me enough strength to deal with the engagement party, go wedding gown shopping, and choose the wedding venue all by myself. Somehow, I've managed to hang in there till the week before the wedding. But five days before the wedding, I discover an AI program that's installed within Edwin's computer. It can categorize every single sentence that I've sent to Edwin and extract the keywords. Then, it'll draft the most perfunctory responses that will never go wrong. If I miss Edwin, the AI will reply, "Mm-hmm." If I feel aggrieved, the AI will reply, "Got it." When I try to vent my frustrations to Edwin, the AI will reply, "Don't make such a big deal out of it." It turns out that Edwin isn't the one who has been responding to my need to overshare. The thing is, he has been texting another woman nonstop in another private chat. They talk about anything and everything under the sun, from exchanging simple good mornings and good nights to asking, "What are you having for lunch today?" and "Do you wanna go to the beach someday?" Finally, I realize that Edwin isn't the silent type who keeps his love in. If anything, he's the flashy type who will proclaim his love anywhere, anytime. It's just that… his love has never been mine to have. As for me, I've finally made up my mind to stop spending my life waiting for a response that will never come.