Cerita Pendek & Novel Bias Revenge

Eight years ago, I was transported into this post-apocalyptic power fantasy novel as the same-named expendable nobody. I had the ability to create a large-scale radiation shield that could block zombies. I was the only S-Rank ability user in the entire colony. But because my younger brother, Samuel Grant, failed to awaken his ability, my only purpose became providing him with "upgrade materials." I tried to fight against the story and refused to hand over my crystal core. But the story's inertia twisted everyone's minds. My parents accused me of working with the Zombie King just so they could forcefully transplant my crystal core into Samuel. My ex-wife, Chloe Carter, went even further. While I was unconscious, she personally cut open my chest and took half of my crystal core. I survived. But my spine was severely damaged. My ability circuits were destroyed. I became a cripple who could never stand again. After I was released from prison, I could only work at a chemical protection laundry plant on the outer edge of the colony. Then, a mutant zombie horde carrying extreme radiation surrounded the colony. The old shield generator was burned out by the radiation. Suddenly, my entire family knelt in the dirty wastewater and begged me. "Ethan, you're the only one who can manually guide the remaining power in your ability to repair the shield! You have to save Samuel! He's still fighting on the front lines!" Sitting in my wheelchair, I pointed at the eight-inch scar across my chest. Then I pointed at my withered legs. "The crystal core is inside Samuel's body. My broken spine is buried in the mud under your feet. I can't even stand anymore. And you want me to go into the radiation zone? Are you hoping to watch me die?"

The Nebula Algorithm I spent countless sleepless nights building single-handedly saved the company’s flagship project. Yet, when the annual promotion list came out, my name was nowhere to be found. Instead, a man named Julian Monroe, who had joined the company less than a month earlier, skipped several ranks to become my direct supervisor. When I marched into my boss Sebastian Carter’s office to ask why, he lashed out at me without hesitation. “You really think a community college graduate like you can compete with a master’s graduate from an elite overseas university?” I clenched my fists, raising my voice to fight back. “The employee handbook clearly states that engineering promotions are strictly performance-based, regardless of your degree!” He pointed a finger right at my nose, his eyes filled with unyielding disdain. “Rules are rigid, but people aren’t. “A community college graduate like you should be down on your knees thanking God for the base salary this company throws your way! “Know your place. This company will keep spinning just fine without you!” I turned around and handed in my resignation letter on the spot, taking my core algorithm with me. I couldn’t wait to see just how long his company would last without me, the “community college graduate.”

Fed up with my neighbors constantly freeloading off my Wi-Fi, I decide to change the network name to "Invincible Wall-Piercing Baby Killer". The next day, the woman next door—pregnant with triplets—collapses outside my apartment, clutching her stomach. "Who told you to change your Wi-Fi name? Don't you know that by changing it, I'd miscarry my triplets?" The whole family has lost their minds, I tell myself. After all, how can changing the name of a Wi-Fi network possibly affect an unborn baby, let alone three of them? A week later, her burly husband shows up at the entrance of our apartment complex, eyes bloodshot. He holds three ultrasound scans in one hand and a surgical report for a miscarriage in the other. "Murderer!" he shouts at me. "Your damn Wi-Fi signal went through the walls and killed my three unborn babies!" They start livestreaming on TikTok. They weld my front door shut, then, in front of more than a million viewers, hold up an "expert report" claiming that electromagnetic radiation has caused the miscarriage. "Enjoy spending the rest of your life behind bars, murderer!" My girlfriend of five years is doxxed. She can't take the harassment anymore and jumps off a building. Although she ultimately survives, she's left in a permanent vegetative state. I become the target of a nationwide hate campaign. Not only do I lose my job, but I also have to sell my home. I'm saddled with crushing compensation that I'll be paying off for the rest of my life. To atone for my so-called crime, I work construction day and night just to support my neighbors' family. In the end, I lose my footing on the scaffolding and fall to my death. Even as I die, I still can't understand how changing the name of a Wi-Fi network can make someone miscarry. When I open my eyes again, I return to the very day it all begins.

Right after the authorities issue the red flood alert, my boss, Bianca Larson, sends a message to our office group chat and tags everyone. "Kindly remain in the office instead of heading home this evening, so you won't have any issues coming in to work tomorrow morning. There'll be an overnight stay charge of 100 dollars, which will be deducted from your salary." All of my colleagues grumble about it, but no one dares to defy the boss. But in the middle of the night, the river embankment gives way. The nasty floodwater fills up the first-floor office, and not a single one of the 100-plus employees survives. Suddenly, my eyes open again. I've returned to the exact moment Bianca sends that message. Anna Wheeler, whose desk is next to mine, sighs and asks me how I intend to spend the night. I firmly declare, "I'm resigning!"

I have a severe alcohol allergy. One drop can kill me. As the real son the family had only just found, I came home certain I would finally have my father's love. What I found was that he only had eyes for Tristan Ashmore, the stand-in, the son who wasn't. To prove to the board that I wasn't some spineless nobody raised out in the country, my father ordered me to a dinner that would decide the future of the company. At the table, I tried to get by on a cup of tea. Tristan and my stepmother took it out of my hands and set down a full glass of high-proof liquor. "Dad's giving you a chance here! "Show a little backbone. Don't let him down." Tristan smiled like he'd never done a thing wrong in his life. From the head of the table, my father watched me coldly and raised his own glass. "If I'm still your father, you'll drink that and win us this contract." I closed my eyes and swallowed it. My airway closed. It felt like drowning on dry land. As I went down I saw the disgust in my father's face, and then my soul came loose from my body. And even then I was sorry. I'm sorry, Dad. I embarrassed you again. I watched him shout that I was faking. I watched them leave my body in the private room. When the last of it was gone, a voice came out of the emptiness. "Heaven has taken pity on your suffering, and a reader from another world has been sent to turn your story around. "If he can carry you to the final chapter alive, he'll bring you back."

After I quit my job to become a full-time househusband, my wife, Brooke Lowell, left me with nothing but a bank card capped at 1,000 dollars a month. She said children had to be raised with hardship to grow up strong, and was always worried I might secretly give our daughter special treatment. But 1,000 dollars was nowhere near enough to cover a household's monthly expenses. Every time the kindergarten asked for nutrition fees, I could only swallow my pride and beg for leniency. "She's just a child. Why does she need that much money? You've got some nerve, living so comfortably on 1,000 a month." I had thought Brooke's harshness was meant to temper our daughter's character. That illusion lasted until I asked Brooke for 300 dollars to buy clothes for our daughter's Children's Day performance. What I received instead was humiliation and ridicule from everyone. Brooke accused me of acting like a spoiled rich kid, wasting money on unnecessary clothes. My mother-in-law complained that I dressed too poorly, like a beggar bringing shame to the family. Even my daughter blamed me for embarrassing her, saying I had ruined her Children's Day and damaged her props. I bowed my head, apologized, and paid compensation. Only then did I discover that my bank card had been frozen. The very next moment, Brooke's crush posted on social media about his son receiving a luxury mansion. 'Already a house-owner at three! Who'd believe she's not his birth mother?' Only then did I understand. People who truly loved someone would never be stingy when spending on them.

During the Christmas holiday, a fire suddenly broke out at my family’s factory. My younger brother, who had gone there to inspect operations, was trapped inside the burning building. As the captain of the fire department, I calmly ordered my team not to go in to rescue him. My mother, Susan Tatcher, and wife, Willa Sutton, begged me desperately to go in and save my brother, but I pulled out my phone and started playing Poker. My mother was on the verge of breaking down. “Zayne Luke, hurry in and save your brother! He’s so young. He can’t endure this kind of suffering!” My wife was also pacing anxiously. “Honey, with a fire this complicated, only you can save Mors!” After all, this was my family’s factory. No one knew the escape routes better than I did. However, I turned a deaf ear to them and leisurely topped up my token balance by 100 dollars to keep playing. Having no other choice, Mom splashed cold water on a thin blanket and prepared to rush into the fire. I blocked the key rescue entrance. “What’s the rush? Wait until I finish this round.”

I was the Blackwell family's real heir, lost as a child and recovered only five years ago. After Grandfather's will left me the controlling shares, the adopted son, Damian, jumped into the pool himself and swore I'd pushed him. My parents never bothered to check. They shipped me overnight to the poorest mining belt in Kembala. Three years later, my father called me for the first time. "Damian isn't angry anymore." "Blackwell Forge Holdings is short on cash." "Crawl back here and marry into Gloria Dane's household in Damian's place, so she'll invest in us." I laughed. Gloria Dane was an old woman pushing sixty. What a devoted father he was. But they didn't know that during those three years, I'd quietly built the largest private financial network in the world, the Obsidian Crown Consortium. Now they were days from bankruptcy and still wanted to trade me for money. Fine. I'd been looking for a reason to go back and settle every account.

For Children's Day, I help source and purchase gifts for my son's class. I not only keep the budget to a minimum, but I also manage to get expensive toys that are way over budget for them. During checkout, because my son, Harry Chandler, has grabbed a limited edition toy robot, the PTA representative, Darren Larson, shouts at me, "Jordan Chandler, are you trying to tell me that you didn't embezzle the class funds for that 500-dollar toy robot?" The class teacher, Kevin Brown, and the manager of the toy store, Florence Young, immediately pause in their footsteps. I feel dozens of pairs of eyes staring at me in the mall. Darren complains animatedly, "You were trying to pay for that 500-dollar toy with the class funds, basically using everyone's money to spoil your son, weren't you? "Both Mr. Brown and the manager are right here, but you still dare to pocket our money? I can't imagine how much of the class funds you must've used to line your own pockets behind our backs! I daresay, for someone with no morals like you, the children you raise will be thieves in the future too!" Darren glares maliciously at me, looking me up and down. Even Kevin is giving me a look of suspicion and disdain. Instead of arguing with him, I turn to the cashier and ask in a calm tone, "My family owns this mall. Do I need to pay for a toy I just grabbed off the shelf?"

We were having a gathering before graduation. My girlfriend and best friend were getting congratulated by the whole class. They had gained guaranteed spots into the campus' top course's postgraduate program. I was sitting in a corner, staring at the Hertford University offer that would ensure I went straight to my doctorate. I hesitated on making a decision for three days just for my girlfriend. Howard Herbson, my best friend, turned to me. He had a look of pity and condescension in his eyes as he said, "How about your job hunt? Don't worry. Not getting into the postgrad program isn't the end of the world. The lab's requirements are ridiculous. "It's going to be near impossible for you to progress there even if you work yourself to the bone." Beatrice Shaw, my girlfriend, handed Howard a glass of water. Then, she chimed in matter-of-factly, "Yeah. Research just isn't for everyone. You should get a nine-to-five. When Howard and I are swamped with us, you can help us out and do our errands." They exchanged a smile and kept me out of their so-called intellectual circle. These two thought they were better than everyone else just because they got a spot in this campus' postgrad program. How droll. So, I went back to that offer and accepted it. These people were so vastly beneath me that it was really about time for me to stop playing their games at their level, especially when I was obviously not welcome.

The most spineless heiress and the most arrogant heiress in Jindale happen to come from the same family. When my half-sister, Sienna Thomson, holds my head over a toilet bowl, the fleeing wealthy heir, Daniel Lowe, shoots clean through both of her hands. "She is the future mistress of Jindale! No one touches her!" Spiteful to her core, Sienna doubles down on tormenting me while sabotaging Daniel at every turn on his path to power. Daniel fights tooth and nail for ten years. On the very day he finally claims the throne of the Lowe family, he books a luxury suite to propose to me. Yet when I push open the door, I find him naked in bed with Sienna. Everyone gasps in shock. After all, it's no secret that Sienna is our common enemy. Sienna sneers, brazenly flaunting the red marks all over her body. "Daniel, don't tell me you mistook me for Charlotte again. You're as sharp as a tack tonight. You handed that Eastia project to me on a silver platter, didn't you? How long are you going to keep fooling yourself? You like a powerful woman. You can't stand a weakling like Charlotte." A faint smile stays fixed on Daniel's face, yet he doesn't deny it. Amidst collective gasps, he casually picks up the ring and tries to slide it onto my finger. But I hold back my hand. I just ask, "You once told me that the moment you were in charge, I could do whatever I wanted with Jindale. Does that still stand?" He freezes, assuming I will yield as I always have over the last decade, and nods with a smile. "Of course." I smile too.

"Your brother's gone to Korea. Make sure you send him an extra $300 next month for his loan repayment." I was swamped at my desk when I received that text. My mind went blank. I asked Dad how much my brother had borrowed, and he casually replied: "The surgery costs $83,000, but you only have $75,000 in your bank account, so we took out an $8,000 loan for two years." Seeing my brother's selfie from a luxury hospital room in Seoul, posted on his social media, a chill ran through me. That was my life savings, scraped together by selling my car and pulling all-nighters for three months! Perhaps sensing my emotion, my father sent another text: "Put off your treatment for now. Once your brother becomes handsome, he can snag a rich woman, and then you'll have all the money you need for treatment." Without another word, I immediately called the bank to report the loss and filed a police report for theft. My bank account was instantly frozen. Within days, my brother, who was kicked off the operating table because the payment couldn't go through, called me and begged. His face half-stitched, he was on the verge of a breakdown.

It was our wedding anniversary. But my husband's precious childhood sweetheart just had to go bungee jumping. Even though I'm terrified of heights,my husband forced me to come along to the edge of the cliff with the two of them. Nobody saw it coming when the main safety cable suddenly snapped. In my last life,I risked everything to tackle my husband,Dominic,just as he lunged forward to save her. With no one to catch her,Vanessa plummeted onto the jagged rocks below and ended up paralyzed. That was the start of my living hell. Dominic's revenge was brutal and bloody. In the end,he locked me inside a dark basement freezer at twenty below,freezing me alive into a solid block of ice. Now,I'm back at the exact second crisis strikes. Just like before,Dominic lunges toward Vanessa without a second thought. This time,I smile. And I let go. I'll let their pathetic "true love" rot in hell.

The day my mother, Dahlia Moone, gives birth to my younger brother, she goes into obstructed labor and suffers a catastrophic hemorrhage. My CEO father, Graham Kovane, orders every doctor and nurse out of the delivery room because his mistress, Selena Langford, says, "Her crying is giving me a headache." That day, both Mom and my unborn brother die. Not long after, I'm framed for a mistake I never made, driven out of the family, and left to survive on the streets. Living on the kindness of strangers, I fight my way up from nothing. Step by step, I rise until I become the head of Rockstone Tech, controlling a fortune worth billions. On the day of the annual evaluation for promoting interns to full-time employees, five candidate files are placed on my desk. My assistant, Ingrid Nelson, taps the file at the top of the stack, her voice full of admiration. "Ms. Campbell, Monica Kovane is exceptionally capable. Her performance has earned full marks from every department manager." I open Monica's profile, and my eyes stop on the family information section. Even in the worst of times, I will never forget those two names on the paper. After a long silence, I tell Ingrid to bring all five interns into my office. The employment contracts are handed out one by one. When only the last person remains, I look up and meet her confident gaze. She's almost certain the position is already hers. Calmly, I slide a termination letter across the desk. "Unfortunately, Ms. Kovane, you didn't pass."

“Mr. Mike Atkinson, the payment on your loan is past due.” The collection agent spoke in a flat voice, as though she were reading out just another routine notice. However, I had never taken out a loan in my life. After pressing her for details, I learned that my parents had used my personal information and credit history to take out a loan in my name for my younger brother. They had forged my signature on every document. I did not immediately drive back to my parents’ house and confront them. I left the family group chat. I returned to my small apartment and spent a long time thinking about what to do. When I finally called home, my mother burst into tears and berated me. “You’re his older brother. What’s wrong with taking on a little debt for him?” I ended the call, switched my phone to silent mode, and stared out at the night. I had nothing more to say to her.

At the pack's annual ritual, Damian's childhood sweetheart's daughter, Chloe, threw my three-month-old son onto the altar. The altar's power drained every drop of blood from his body, leaving behind nothing but a shriveled corpse. I stared at his mangled body and cried until my heart broke. I dragged her before the Werewolf Bureau and confronted her mother, Serena, demanding answers. But Damian, the Alpha and my mate, turned on me instead. "Chloe is just a pup! Pups make mistakes. Do you really want to drive her to her death?" Damian and his parents branded me as heartless and unforgiving. After losing my son, I sank into despair and spiraled into severe depression. My son was the future Alpha. After his death, Serena's son, who also carried the Alpha bloodline, became the next in line. Twenty years later, Axel became the Alpha. The first thing he did was pin the blame on me and have me exiled. I was tortured to death in the Wasteland. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the ritual. I immediately mind-linked my parents and told them to take my son away. But this time, Chloe still threw a baby onto the altar.

I closed my eyes, about to jump off a building, when an ill-timed phone ringtone blared. On the other end of the phone came a voice that I couldn't be more familiar with. It was my own voice. "Don't jump, Jack Sterling."

Not long after my wife and I got married, my mother-in-law unexpectedly had another child, a son. The entire family treated him like a miracle and let him get away with everything. Before long, he became an unbearable little monster. When he was ten, he pulled up a girl's skirt at school and yanked down her shorts. I confronted him about it, but my wife immediately turned on me. "He's my brother, not your son. What makes you think you have the right to discipline him?" I kept my anger to myself and moved out with our daughter, who had been growing more withdrawn by the day. Years later, the spoiled boy shoved a woman who was eight months pregnant down a flight of stairs. My wife called me in a panic and begged me to help him. All I wanted to tell her was that he was finally facing the consequences of his actions. Never did I imagine he could sink even lower...

I was the only human at the vampire banquet, and the fiancée of the Prince's heir, Lucien. As a child, I once saved Lucien from vampire hunters, and the Prince and his wife chose me for him, sealing our engagement. Everyone envied me. I was merely the daughter of a human nobleman, yet I had the fortune to marry above my station into the Prince's family. To be worthy of him, I worked to make everything perfect. But among vampires, I always seemed slow and clumsy. They moved faster than me, heard far more than I could, and even the simplest vampire customs took me longer to memorize. Every time I reacted a step too slow, Lucien would remind me with a frown. "How are you ever going to be a proper wife like this?" He always said that compared to the girl he grew up with, his former fiancée, I still fell far short. Every single time, I was laughed at without mercy. Lucien would never let anyone hurt me, but he never once defended my dignity. Eventually, I broke off the engagement and decided to marry someone else. Lucien's face darkened. "You're really going to marry this human?" "Yes. Because he has never once called me stupid." Lucien scoffed. "That's your reason?" I nodded. "That's my reason."

“Sign this agreement. It extends your probation by three months and cuts your pay by forty percent.” Adeline Lancaster, the HR manager, casually filed her nails. She didn’t bother looking up as she rolled her eyes. “Don’t think this company can’t run without you just because you wrote the core architecture. “Tristan Rothwell has taken over all your code. You can pack your things and get out whenever you want.” I stared at her arrogant face and let out a cold chuckle. I had been with the company for three months and written every single line of the core codebase. Yet she had stalled my permanent position approval for over twenty days. She wanted to steal my hard work, cut my hard-earned pay, and use it to feed a connected slacker who couldn’t even parse basic scripts. Fine by me. Rip! I tore the agreement to shreds and slammed the pieces right into her face. Before she could scream, I pulled out my phone and tapped the screen once. I revoked every internal network authorization linked to my encrypted core scripts. “No need to wait,” I said. “I’m leaving right now.”