Reborn Face Slapping Short Stories & Novels

All it took was a single sip of my new roommate's welcome milkshake on the first day of college for everything to spiral out of control. My mom suddenly decided to transfer the one million she'd originally set aside for my living expenses to her instead. My brother even planned to give her the luxury car that had been intended as my go-to college gift. I was so blindsided by their irrational actions that I rushed to stop them, only to be scolded in return for not knowing how to treat a classmate with kindness. When my roommate said she wanted to break into the entertainment industry, they poured every last resource into launching her career. It drove the company into bankruptcy. In the end, they all jumped to their deaths. Meanwhile, I suddenly fell gravely ill for no apparent reason, left barely clinging to life. It wasn't until my final moments that I learned the truth—the milkshake had been tied to a Usurpation System. After I drank it, everyone around me began treating her with unconditional devotion. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment my roommate handed me the milkshake. This time, I took it from her. However, I held the straw up to her lips instead of drinking it.

The day I bought the limited-edition Aston Martin, I drove it straight to a private clinic. I ordered the surgeon to remove my corneas. In my last life, on Halloween night, my boyfriend’s childhood friend, Gia, stole my car keys. She took him and his gutter-trash friends to an underground casino in Brooklyn. High on coke, she floored it. She ran down the New York Mafia Don’s wife and only heir at an intersection. But her friends swore to the Don’s enforcers that I was the one behind the wheel. When the Don's capo pressed a gun to my forehead, I trembled, desperately explaining Gia was the driver. She just shrank into my boyfriend's arms, sobbing. “Sera, I know you hate that we grew up together. But you can’t frame me to save your own skin.” My boyfriend, Rocco, threw a doctored surveillance video into the pool of blood at the Don's feet. On the screen, a terrified woman who looked exactly like me slammed on the gas, killed two people, and fled. “Seraphina, still trying to play the untouchable heiress? Even framing Gia? You’re pathetic.” The enraged Don lost his mind. He had his men shoot me eighteen times. Every single bullet shattered a bone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. The day before Halloween. The night before that bitch touched my keys.

On my twentieth birthday, I had to choose a husband from the six angel heirs. Everyone thought I would choose Adrian Seraphiel, the brightest golden-winged heir and the man I had loved for years. In my last life, I did. Because of me, he inherited eighty percent of House Seraphiel’s fortune and became the next ruler of the angel clan. But after our marriage, he got involved with Celeste, my adopted half-siren sister. When my dragon family cast her out of House Drakon, Adrian blamed me. From then on, he hated me. He surrounded himself with women who looked like her, humiliated me again and again, and finally replaced my life-saving medicine with slow poison. I died carrying his child, while the last of my dragon blood burned away. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on my twentieth birthday. This time, I decided to let them have each other. So in front of everyone, I chose Cassian Seraphiel, the sixth son of the angel family. Broken-winged. Mocked by everyone. No one believed he could ever inherit anything. The room burst into laughter. Adrian looked at me coldly and sneered. “Elena, are you choosing that useless cripple just to get my attention?” I ignored him. Because in my last life, after I died, this so-called useless cripple was the only one who collected my body, found the truth, and avenged me by stripping Adrian of his golden wings. But then Adrian stepped closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Funny,” he said. “That wasn’t who you chose in your last life.”

Accused of stealing recipes from my own sister, Cora, I was ruthlessly cast out from the healing center—by my own fated mate, the Alpha Kellan. So I came home to my grandma's herb farm. Riding my wild horse, Shadow, wherever the hell we want to go. But now the whole pack is scrambling to find me. In my past life, at the Alliance's Grand Potion Competition, my sister always managed to submit the exact same rare potion recipes as me, just a little bit earlier. They all called me a shameless thief, a plagiarist who stole my own sister's work. Even my own parents got on stage to vouch for her. And Kellan... he threw the exile order in my face. His eyes were ice. He stripped me of my title for "dishonoring the pack" and shattered our mate bond right in front of everyone. The agony tore my soul apart. I wanted to die. My family called me a disgrace and cast me out. The betrayal shattered my wolf. I lost my mind. In the end, one of her fanatics shot me dead in the street. A silver bullet laced with wolfsbane. As I died, I still couldn't understand how she could get inside my head and steal my recipes. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. The day before the competition. This time, my mind is filled with nothing but the wild. Let's see what kind of potion my 'genius' sister can come up with now.

My older sister, Scarlet Dawson, is an absolute saint with a savior complex. When the apocalyptic heatwave hits us, she gives out water to our neighbors, food to strangers, and even invites her boyfriend's entire family to live with us. When our supplies are finally depleted, Scarlet actually considers selling me off to a perverted old man in exchange for supplies to look after her boyfriend, Marcus Crosby. I promptly pull out my stun gun and knock her unconscious. Then, I hand her straight to the perverted old man instead. I go back to my villa, where the temperature is constantly kept at 60°F, and enjoy a tub of Ben & Jerry's ice cream under the air conditioning. Not only that, but my villa is stocked with enough supplies to last me for the next few decades!

In a drought-ravaged apocalypse, I kept our entire apartment block alive with my “watermaker” ability. But when I grew weak, my neighbors shattered my limbs and turned me into a living water source. Later, when raiders stormed in, they dragged me out to take the blade for them, only to realize that even my severed arms could still produce water. So, they shouted about “saving humanity,” then shoved me into the crowd and fled in the chaos. People rushed forward one after another, tearing at my flesh. But I didn’t die. What was left of me fell into the hands of a monster, and I was subjected to inhuman torment day after day. Ten years later, when the apocalypse finally ended, that monster tossed me into an incinerator. Only then did I die. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the moment I first awakened my ability, just as my neighbor knocked on the door, begging for water.

I turned out not to be the biological daughter of a wealthy family. In my previous life, I had believed my best friend Vicky’s words and had stormed out on the day the real daughter, Lydia, returned. I never expected my biological father to fall ill with a chronic ailment that drained every bit of the family’s savings. I had nowhere to turn, and I worked day and night until I collapsed while delivering food in the middle of the night. Vicky became close to Lydia, and she used the chance to approach Peter, her brother, so that she could marry into a wealthy family. When I opened my eyes again, I returned to the day I had run away. My foster parents looked at me with worry, and Peter stood with his arms crossed. “You know your biological parents are so broke they can’t even afford food, so are you sure you want to go back and suffer?” In my previous life, they had pleaded with me, and all I had in my head had been Vicky’s manipulation. I had thrown out the words, “I don’t need your filthy money,” and walked away. I set my suitcase down without hesitation this time. I would never leave before I saved enough money.

My adoptive brother, Don Cassian. I loved him. The rival family drugged him. He had me pinned down. His hands on my breasts. He was hard, his eyes filled with a desperate hunger for me. But I shoved him off. Ran out the door. And called my best friend, Camilla. "Cassian's in the master bedroom. Get here. Now." I locked myself in the bathroom, letting the cold water wash away the fire he’d started in me. I remembered the last time. In my past life, when Cassian kissed me, I didn't say no. We made love all night. I thought my ten-year crush was finally mine. Then came St. Patrick's Cathedral. The Vitelli family's sapphire ring, passed down for three generations. The blessing of the Elders. I had everything I ever wanted. But the day after the wedding, I got the news. My best friend, Camilla, was dead. An overdose of antidepressants in her apartment. I was on the phone, crying for her, when a knife went through my chest from behind. I turned. It was Cassian, his face twisted with hate. "If you hadn't blackmailed me with those ledgers—if you hadn't forced your way into my bed—Camilla would still be alive. You have to pay for this!" That's when I understood. He never married me for love. It was all because of a whisper from Camilla: "Aurora controls the family's money. She can ruin you with a phone call." And a warning from the Elders: "Don, you must marry her. She knows too much." So this time, I stepped aside. I let them have each other. But why? Why did he come after me, his eyes red, looking like he'd lost his mind? "Aurora," he begged. "Why don't you love me anymore?"

The day I announced I was quitting writing, the entire internet celebrated. Everyone except my girlfriend's rumored boyfriend, the famous mystery author, Bryan Vega. In a short video, he looked genuinely regretful. "This is all a misunderstanding. I’ve always admired Kobi’s work, and I hope he’ll come back for the sake of his readers." I turned off my phone and ignored him completely. In my previous life, the web novel I wrote was identical to the mystery novel he published. People online called me a plagiarist and wished death on my whole family. I tried to defend myself, posting my drafts, outlines, and timestamps. Yet, it didn't matter. The last edit timestamp on his document was ten minutes earlier than mine. Just those ten minutes destroyed me. The messages never stopped. Strangers flooded my inbox with insults. Some even showed up at my house and threw paint on the walls. Years of nonstop harassment dragged me into depression. My parents tried to clear my name, but obsessed fans hunted them down and murdered them using methods copied straight from his novel. In the end, on the very day his book won a major award, I sealed my windows and burned charcoal, ending my life. And then, I opened my eyes again. I had returned to the day my new book was supposed to be released.

A woman in an expensive evening gown collapsed outside my clinic. I treated her and spent the entire night saving her life. But when her fiancé arrived, he demanded coldly, "You drugged her, didn't you?" Only then did I learn she was one of the capital's most famous heiresses. When she woke up, she spoke as if offering me charity. "Close your clinic. I own a mansion in the hills. You'll live there from now on, and I'll visit you once a week." After the initial shock, I firmly refused. Her fiancé slapped me across the face. "Still not satisfied? You think a country bumpkin like you deserves to be the Dawson heiress' husband?" I threw them out. Within a day, health inspectors and police officers came one after another. My clinic was shut down, my landlord evicted me, and the neighbors gathered around, accusing me of running an illegal clinic. I tracked the woman down and furiously demanded answers, but she merely swirled her red wine and gave a resigned smile. "The poor boy who refuses a handout? That story's old, and you're a terrible actor. Drop the act." "You saved me on purpose because you wanted to seduce me, didn't you?" She locked me in her hillside mansion and said she would take her time training me. But a late-night fire put an end to my life. When I opened my eyes again, a heavy thud came from outside my clinic. I kept my eyes on my tea, took a sip, and pretended I heard nothing.

The day Grandma died, my parents, both of whom had remarried, began arguing over who would have to take me. In the original timeline, I had been concerned about Dad working himself so hard and chose to live with him so that I could be there for him. I even picked the numbers on the lottery ticket that won him a multimillion-dollar jackpot. After he became rich, he bought a nice place and luxury cars for my stepmother and their children. Yet he would not spend a cent on my pain medication. By the time doctors found the tumor in my brain, I could only lie in bed and endure the pain until it killed me. In the new timeline, Dad frowned and sighed again and again. “Your mom married a wealthy businessman. You’ll have a much better life with her. “I already have too many children at home. There just isn’t room for you.” Mom fiddled with her freshly manicured nails and replied indifferently, “That’s not fair. More children just make a home livelier. “My husband runs a very strict household, and the twins from his first marriage are impossible to deal with. “She has always done whatever she wants. They’ll eat her alive if she comes home with me.” Their attempts to push me toward each other no longer stirred any feelings in me. When they finally lost patience and demanded that I choose, I quietly picked up my suitcase and walked over to Mom. Her face immediately darkened. Dad, meanwhile, breathed a sigh of relief. He was unable to suppress a pleased little smile. However, he did not know that without me there to intervene, my stepmother would toss the winning lottery ticket into the washing machine and reduce it to a pile of soggy scraps. Having traveled back in time, I only wanted to live comfortably during whatever time I had left.

I was reborn the year the Blood Moon War began. The first thing I did? I sacrificed my child. The child of my blood-bonded mate, Lord Lucius of the Covenant. In my last life, he chose to protect his childhood sweetheart, Lilith, when she slept with a werewolf. He stole my pureblood heir and replaced it with her half-breed mongrel. They branded me a traitor. In a sun-scorched dungeon, they burned my scarred body to ash with holy light. And my own son, his mind poisoned by Lilith, stood on my ashes and cursed me to Hell for all eternity. When I opened my eyes again, the blood ritual for my heir was already three months along. I didn't hesitate. I went straight to a witch, and with a potion brewed from my own heart's blood, I ended it. Then, I put on something else: an expensive amulet of Blood Illusion. It faked the energy of a pureblood fetus. It masked my true state, cloaking me in the sweet, alluring scent of a pregnant vampire. It even created a perfect illusion of a growing belly. Lucius needed an heir to cover for Lilith’s crime. Fine. I’d play along. This time, I had no weaknesses.

After the War of the Gods, Olympus forged a new pact with the last of the Titans. From then on, the mortal realm was ruled by demigods. Those who carried the blood of the gods within them. Once a century, Olympus held the Sacred Marriage. The twelve ruling gods would choose mortal noblewomen as brides. Their goal: to sire heirs with divine cores. The rule was simple: whoever birthed a demigod first would see her husband crowned the next High Councilor of the Gods. In my past life, I married Deimos, the son of Ares, a man renowned for his fierce devotion. Soon after, I gave him a son—a demigod brimming with raw power. A prophecy declared our boy would one day rule Olympus, and Deimos rode that promise to absolute power. Meanwhile, my sister Evadne, blinded by the beauty of the Sun clan, insisted on marrying Lucian, Apollo's playboy heir. But Lucian's philandering left her with more than a broken heart. He gave her a divine blight, a curse that left her barren. She blamed me for it. She hated me with every fiber of her being. On the very night I was crowned Queen of the Gods, she set the holy temple ablaze, burning me and my son alive. Then I opened my eyes. I was back on the day of the Sacred Marriage. Evadne had already broken into the temple and climbed into Deimos's bed. I knew it right then. She had been reborn, too. But she didn't know the truth. The blood of the War God is violent. Deimos wasn't a prize to be won. He was a monster in disguise.

My Alpha was gravely wounded in a battle with a rival pack. But I wasn’t worried. I wasn’t even flustered. I let him go, three thousand kilometers away, to be healed. Because in my past life, Damien got himself injured on purpose, all to give his healer mistress, Isla, a shot at glory. Worried sick about him, I forced our pack’s healers to treat him instead. But Isla lost her one shot at fame. Without it, she couldn't secure her place in any pack and eventually killed herself. Damien's life was saved, but he blamed me for her death. He poisoned me, leaving me to die in agony. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Right before Damien got hurt.

In my previous life, my older sister, Chloe Fuller, married Adrian Owens, a rich, aloof man, while I married Ethan Wright, who was sweet and attentive. He rubbed my feet at banquets and even turned down social engagements to spend every one of my birthdays with me. Although Chloe's mate was wealthier, his leg injury required long-term treatment. Because of that, their marking ceremony kept getting postponed, and they weren't even sharing a bedroom. She'd had enough of a marriage in name only, so she asked to dissolve their mate bond. And Adrian didn't try to keep her. On the day our parents brought her back home, she happened to see Ethan putting a necklace around my neck for our anniversary. Driven mad with jealousy, she dragged me off the yacht in the dead of night and we both died. When we opened our eyes again, we were back to that afternoon when our families were discussing the marriage arrangements. Chloe rushed to claim the seat beside Ethan, leaving Adrian, who was still recovering from his injuries, for me. Afraid that I would back out of the arrangements, our parents switched the marriage arrangements on the spot. But this time, I didn't reach for Ethan. Chloe had only seen how Ethan spoiled me. She hadn't seen how, right after I gave birth to our daughter, he took our pup away and asked me to make a sacrifice for his widowed sister-in-law, Vivian Clayton, who had lost her own pup. In this life, I don't want to be his Luna, and I don't want that nursery that's forever left empty, either. Since Chloe thinks he's such a great match, she can marry him herself.

Our Silvermoon Pack has a twisted bloodline law. The Alpha succession must follow the firstborn. If the firstborn son, the future Alpha, does not produce an heir, his younger brother is forbidden from breeding. But Julian, my mate’s older brother, and his mate, Bianca, had been in our pack for three whole years. Still no pup. At the annual Sovereignty Feast, Alpha Dominic—our father—piled on the pressure. He demanded an heir in front of the entire pack. Bianca just stared at her lap. She twisted her napkin in silence. In my past life, I saw her shame. I foolishly tried to save her. “Bianca is from a northern pack. Maybe her inner wolf is still adjusting to our territory,” I had said. “Don’t worry, Father. The Moon Goddess will bless them in time.” Father’s expression softened. But then Bianca looked up. She stabbed me in the back. “You are awfully calm about all this, Alanna.” Her voice was sharp. “I heard you've been sneaking wolfsbane suppressants. You refuse to breed.” “And now you are using me as a shield.” Just like that, she painted me as a traitor. She made me a threat to the pack’s very foundation. The worst part? She knew she could never have pups. Back at the Werewolf Academy, she slept around. She took bites from too many Alphas. The conflicting pheromones and bonds shattered her inner wolf. It left her permanently barren. But she kept that dirty scandal buried. Year after year, she ran out the clock on my prime breeding years. My own wolf began to fade with age. I died without ever holding a pup of my own. This time, I am done pretending. I met the gaze of every pack member. My eyes locked onto Bianca. “Bianca,” I said, my voice loud and clear. “Don't tell me… you're barren?”

My sister disappeared because of my aunt, Renee Dover. She smiled and said, "Our little Candy is so pretty. It'd be a shame not to get her into kids' modeling." Then she took three-year-old Candy away. She claimed the shoot had been too crowded and that Candy had wandered off on her own. My parents searched for over ten years. When they finally found her, Candy was chained up in a house deep in the mountains. She had given birth to seven children, and her mind had broken long ago. She died on the way home. The grief destroyed my parents too. They lost their minds and were killed when a car struck them. Aunt Renee seized their inheritance and gloated, "Your mother should've lent me the money when I asked. I sold the kid and got paid anyway, didn't I?" She built her happiness on Candy's suffering, married well, and lived happily ever after. In a haze, I was swept into traffic too. When I opened my eyes, I was four years old again.

On the third day after receiving our college acceptance letters, the most popular student in school, Natalie Simmons, proposes something in our class group chat. "We're all adults now, and we've already been accepted into college. We should do something exciting before the semester begins. Let's put on a show and stage a fake bank heist. It'll be fun." In my last life, I make 23 phone calls in a row and confiscate every prop they plan to use. No one gets hurt. But Natalie becomes the target of criticism from parents and teachers. She sinks into depression and eventually jumps into a lake. The entire class blames me and hates me. At our graduation dinner, they force a whole bottle of liquor down my throat. Then, they say they're taking me to the riverside to sober up. When I wake up, I'm in the river. Water fills my lungs, freezing cold. The news report summed up my life in five words. "Drunk Man Falls Into River." When I open my eyes again, my phone is vibrating. The very first message in the group chat is Natalie's proposal. This time, I don't say anything. I take screenshots and save copies.

My father, Caelion, was the High King of the Three Realms, and my mother was Aurelia, goddess of the sun. As their only son, I was meant to inherit my father’s throne. But my sisters became so absurdly infatuated with Corvin, a lowly sparrow from the mortal world who had assumed human form, that they allowed him to pass himself off as me. Father held my coming-of-age feast at the Silvermere Palace. There, he presented me with the Atlas of Dominion. Corvin had snatched it from my hands and sneered. “I will take your place on the throne.” A murderous rage stirred inside me. In the original timeline, I had swallowed every insult for the sake of my family, only for them to join forces and murder me in the end. Since fate had sent me back to that fated day, I would not make the same mistake twice. I wrenched the Atlas of Dominion from Corvin’s grasp. As he stared at me in disbelief, I punched him. “This was Father’s gift to me. What makes a witless little bird like you think you are worthy of touching it? Guards!”

The Blackwood Pack had a rule: no outsider was ever allowed to touch a newborn pureblood pup. So when my fated mate Damon Cross's childhood friend Yvonne Morgan reached for one of their sacred cubs, I stopped her. Yvonne decided I was being petty, that I was trying to humiliate her in front of everyone. So she ran off crying, tripped, and fell into a bog. By the time anyone found her, she was gone. Damon was convinced I'd done it on purpose—that I'd planned to get rid of Yvonne Morgan. He had me bound and locked in that basement dungeon for three days and three nights. Every hour felt like a year. "This is all your fault, you jealous witch. If it weren't for you, Yvonne would still be here!" "You're going to pay for what you did. Rot in there and think about it." I clawed my way out—dug a tunnel with my bare hands. I was so close. The night I finally broke free, Damon gave the order to have me thrown into the No-Man's-Land wolf pit. Then I opened my eyes. I was back. The night of the Full Moon Gala.