Cruciverbalism

What would you do if you found out the life you have is a lie? Would you embrace an immortal, but dangerous future or run away? Chrysalism (n.) the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm. ××× This book contains swearing, erotic passages, as well as trigger subjects such as physical, verbal and all other sorts of abuse. As it is written on what comes to mind at the time, I advise you to read at your own risk. Please do not read if you feel the slightest doubt in your mind if you should read it or not. Mental health is a serious thing and it must be taken into consideration. You have been warned. ×××

My best friend Seraphine had not one drop of blood left in her body when they found her. Her skin was translucent. There were two dried trails of blood from the corners of her mouth, like she had wept herself empty long before the end. She left one note. One sentence: "Vera saw his face." From that day forward, I became the Covenant's greatest sinner. Because I knew who did it. But I said nothing. For ten years, I said nothing. Then Lucian came back. He was the one who had turned us, raised us, given us the only home we had ever known. He set the Soul Prism in front of me. "Tonight," he said, "you give me the killer." His eyes hadn't changed. That was the worst part. After ten years of exile, of stones and fire and nights that never got warmer, I looked at him and he was still exactly who he had always been to me. "Or you disappear from this world along with him." He didn't know. The reason I had chosen exile and starvation and a Blood Oath that had been eating my soul core alive for a decade — was him. All of it, always, had been for him.

"Our heart beats only with their permission." For as long as she can remember, the bookworm Synecdoche Rochet, 23, has lived a simple life in Maharlika Nation—hiding in the grasses and grains of District G to avoid the terrifying power of the Embassy and its ruthless Ambassador. In a dystopian world that is controlled with surveillance, Synecdoche Rochet embarks on a mission to get back their rights on their district's valuable resources—the grains. When she discovered her intellectual ability, she found herself drawn to the charismatic Giovanni, the long-lost Ambassador's privileged son together with other intelligent students, Ulap, Token, and Keithwarth. They found themselves being the tributes on the 2nd Maharlika Spelling TwistBee—trapped in the Word Arena. An annually commemorated game where each district will represent one letter in the Alphabet, spell the given English words not verbally, but by beating other competitors who have letter tattoos on their arms. The rules are to Spell and beat them. Within the competitor's reach, the team-up of Synecdoche, Giovanni, Ulap, Token, and Keithwarth isn't a coincidence, it's a conspiracy. What if Synecdoche's age will be reversed? Will they use their intelligence for vengeance? Will they compel love and trust to survive the competition? Is their life the price or the prize? "Even the shortest word has the longest meaning."

My name is Elvira Rossi, daughter of Don Rossi, head of the Itavelle mafia family. Three months ago, my father was killed. Our operations were stripped bare, nothing left. The accounts were draining fast, and the family still had mouths to feed. Then a DNA report surfaced out of nowhere. According to it, I was the LaRosa family's long‑lost true heiress, missing for eighteen years. Money, at last, had found its way to me. For the sake of my people, I was willing to set aside my pride and play the part of a sheltered heiress. The car sent to escort me back to the estate broke down halfway up the mountain? I steadied it with one hand and carried it the rest of the way to the hilltop manor. The fake heiress dissolved into tears, accusing me of pushing her? I answered by striking the century-old tree in the courtyard, splitting it clean through. She went silent immediately. My fiancé sent bodyguards to "teach me self‑defense"? My two friends politely introduced them to the concept of being permanently embedded in a wall. As my so‑called "family" shook in fear, my knuckles cracked softly. After all, before inheriting the mafia, I inherited my father's favorite rule: "If violence can solve it, don't waste words."

The story-series, "Crimson's Game", is about a girl named Elle, a member of the Death Legion, who is struggling to seek for answers to reveal her true identity. The Death Legion is a constitution where they aim to cleanse the world. A world without murderers, toxicity, and chaos. But it is all a lie, the truth is they are all just bunch of psycho's who find satisfaction by inflicting pain to their victims. The Legion is divided into four different sectors. Sector 1, the Annihilators, they are also known as the doers. They are the ones responsible for assassination. Sector 2, the Final Disposition, their task is to look after the dead bodies and make sure that the place where the assassination was held is taken care of. Sector 3, the Defenders. The Defenders are the lawyers of the sectors. They will defend and make sure that the profile of their Manslayers is clean. Last sector, the Menders. They are the doctors of each group. They also save the lives of those victims who are granted by the Director, the founder of the Legion. Elle is recruited by Archaios, her partner in crime, he will help Elle discover the hell inside the constitution. Archaios will play a big role in her life. Is he someone she could trust? An alliance? Or maybe another enemy she'll have to face. The protagonist will have a hard time finding the right course to her freedom. She will bet her own life just to satisfy her curiosity. Will she be able to handle it all alone? Find out the truth, seek for the answer. Be careful with who you trust, because in this game you will doubt, even yourself. With that, let the games begin!

My roommate branded herself as an influencer against beauty standards, vowing to free girls from appearance anxiety. Strangely, whenever she stayed up late partying and broke out in pimples, they would appear on my face instead. When she fooled around and caught an infection, the rashes spread across my body. The more radiant she became, the more monstrous I looked. People recoiled from me. Friends cut me off. My own boyfriend, before a crowd, told me I should just die. Then my roommate got pregnant, yet it was my stomach that swelled like I was eight months along, scarred with terrifying stretch marks. She, meanwhile, looked more flawless than ever, appearing barefaced on camera to encourage girls not to fear their looks. I knew something was not right. When I tried to dig for answers, my roommate and boyfriend trapped me in a basement. They tortured me until I died. Only then did I learn the truth. He owned a cursed amulet that shifted all her pain onto me. The moment I opened my eyes, I was back on our first day of college together. This time, the game is mine. I'll make sure they pay.