Mga Maiikling Kuwento at Nobelang Familial Bond Imagination

For as long as I could remember, a family scorecard hung by our front door like a corporate dashboard. At the end of the semester, my older sister Ava ranked first in her class, and Dad stuck a bright gold star beside her name. I had studied until my eyes burned, but my score still came in exactly three points lower than hers. Dad shook his head in disappointment and drew a huge red mark beside my name. "Mia, do you know how much money you cost this family this month?" He tapped at his calculator and said in a cold, businesslike tone, "Tutoring, supplements, private coaching. Five thousand dollars altogether. Terrible return on investment." "Starting next month, your allowance is in the negative by two thousand. You can work it off by taking over every chore in this house." Ava's eyes curved into a smile. "Mia, according to the performance rules, starting today you have to handle my laundry for a whole year." I clenched my fists, but all I could do was nod. That night, I hid in the bathroom and searched how to raise grades fast. A strange forum link flashed onto my screen. "Do you want to make a trade?" "Give up what is yours. Receive what you desire." "Tap to begin."

Our family road trip ended in a cliffside plunge. The Moon Goddess told us that to survive, we must enter the werewolf world and conquer the cruelest Alpha in existence. Only by obtaining the Alpha’s "Token of the Blood Oath" could our family be reborn. My cousin Chloe, brimming with confidence, chose the identity of the "Savior." She attempted to replicate the "White Moonlight"—the lost love—from the Alpha's memories. Meanwhile, the "Spectators" from this world were blowing up the chat stream: "This family is interesting. Much smarter than the last batch." "As long as one of them gets the Token, they all resurrect. I’m betting on the blonde hottie." "For sure. The way that Alpha looks at her? His favorability is already maxed out." Just when we thought victory was in the bag, the next day brought devastating news. The first batch of family members who entered the instance were wiped out. And Cousin Chloe died the most gruesome death of them all. The tone of the chat instantly shifted to mockery and ridicule: "LMAO. Did they really think this was some fluffy romance novel? That’s the Rogue King who crawled out of a pile of corpses." "Forget his 'White Moonlight.' He wouldn't hesitate to kill his own Fated Mate."

When the nurse pulled the IV needle out of the back of my hand, her gaze was filled with pity. “Mr. Young, the heart meant for your transplant was transferred at the last minute. It was sent to the VIP ward on the seventh floor. It’s a shame, but all your pre-operation prep has gone to waste.” Marcus Stewart was warded on the seventh floor. He was the frail young man my sister brought home. Ten minutes ago, Marcus suddenly had terrible chest pain. My usually strong mother burst into tears. My stoic father slammed the table in front of every expert in the hospital, then decided to give Marcus the heart I had been waiting three years for. It was supposed to save my life. I hurried to the end of the corridor, but the green operating light had already come on. Clutching the twisting pain in my chest, I leaned against the ice-cold wall and slid to the floor. There was no need to wait anymore. My heart failure was terminal. The doctor said I would not last the next few days. The mechanical voice sounded in my head. [Master, your vital signs are rapidly deteriorating. If you terminate this body and leave this world now, you still have a chance at a new life. Would you like to proceed?] I looked at the faint grey hue of death tinging my fingertips. “...Yes.”

When I was ten years old, both my parents passed away. My sister, Brianna, and I only had each other left. We were tormented at the orphanage before the Larsons adopted us. They doted on Brianna and me, and even allowed their daughter, Vivian Larson, to get engaged to me when I was 20 years old. It was a wonderful tale of love. Vivian didn't let any of us down. She would have given me the moon if she could, and she loved me with all her heart. During the ten years we spent with the Larsons, Brianna and I led a good life and never suffered at all. The night before we got married, Vivian took out a treasured bottle of vintage wine. It was to be served at our wedding. However, I poisoned the wine and killed everyone in the Larson family, including my own sister.

After my family and I are dragged into a roguelike horror simulation, they favor my cousin, Julian Clark, over me. In a lobby of blood-soaked players, he always manages to stay spotless, earning their praise as someone who has "kept his humanity". He's unlike me, the brute who willingly throws himself into melee combat and hacks down monsters just to keep everyone else alive. During one dungeon run, a terrifying entity targets my younger sister, Millie Larsson. I draw my blade and move in for the kill, but Julian stops me with a sorrowful smile. "Every creature has a soul. Gabriel, if you kill it, you'll only enrage it and burden Millie with the sin of bloodshed." Millie believes all the nonsense he says and begins resenting me for interfering. Later, when a veteran player steals Julian's life-saving loot drop, I nearly die reclaiming it for him. Instead of thanking me, he takes pity on the woman robbing him and hands the item back to her. He condemns me for being too ruthless, claiming I know nothing about showing mercy to women. Then comes the advanced raid. Cornered by the final boss, I beg Julian to activate the high-tier talisman I've given him, buying me just one second to escape. He recoils from my bloodstained hand in disgust and turns to my parents instead. "Gabriel provoked the boss himself. He's too violent. I can't risk wiping the whole party just to save him." In the end, I die in the boss' jaws. Julian steps over my shattered bones and blood to clear the raid, eventually becoming the server's most celebrated player for being the Untainted Saint. But fate grants me a second chance. I awaken once more in the game's central lobby, right before everything begins. This time, I want to see how long their precious humanity lasts in a world overrun by horrors when the blood-soaked blade that always carries their party is no longer there to protect them.

When I was born, the nurse handed me over to my parents, and the smiles on their faces instantly vanished. Hovering over their son's smooth head was a line of numbers that no one else could see. 6570 days. It was exactly 18 years. Not a day more, not a day less. The nurse thought they were just nervous first-time parents, but my parents knew the truth. That number was my lifespan. While everyone else in the delivery room was celebrating a new life, my parents were staring at my death. For the next 18 years, I was the most precious person in the family. No matter how poor we were, the eggs were always mine, the new clothes were always mine, and the meat was always mine. My younger sister could only look on enviously. My parents often told her, "Let your brother have it. He doesn't have much time left." I was well-behaved from a young age, never causing trouble, quietly waiting to die. On my 18th birthday, I blew out the candles and said a sincere goodbye to the world. The next day, my parents and sister, dressed in black clothes, walked into my room with swollen eyes. I rubbed my eyes, smiled at them, and said, "Good morning." The air froze. The sadness on their faces slowly turned into astonishment, then coldness.

For six months, I pick through trash to scrape together enough money to buy Mom a beautiful dress for her birthday. I can't wait to give it to her. But the moment I hand her the dress, her gentle smile vanishes. She screams, shoves me to the floor, and grabs a chair. She brings it down on me again and again. "Did that monster put you up to this? Did he tell you to give me this dress just to hurt me? You've got his blood in your veins! I should've known you'd turn on me!" She beats me until I'm barely breathing, then runs out of the house, leaving me alone on the cold floor. As my vision blurs, a book suddenly opens before my eyes. That's when I learn the truth. I'm the tragic male lead in a dark novel. The story has that monster force himself on Mom just to give me a miserable childhood. I'm the reason her whole life was ruined. I smile and reach toward the glowing pages with a bloodied hand. I'll save Mom, even if it means I was never born.

I spend the New Year at my girlfriend Lucy Greenwood's house. During a game of poker, her whole family keeps helping me win. The more I win, the bigger the smile on her mom Eva Lane's face. I excitedly reveal my hand. "A royal flush! I win!" Eva immediately hands me a stack of cash, beaming. "Wow, Milo, you're really lucky." I assume they like me, which is why they let me win 13 hands in a row. Just then, a quiet voice speaks up. "You still want to keep winning? This game takes lives in exchange for luck… Once you've won enough money, it's time to pay with your life. If you play that card, you'll have to live the rest of your life as Lucy's comatose older brother."

Just when I was about to step through airport security for my Around-the-World trip, I heard the twins in my womb, a boy and a girl, shouting. 'Mom! Can you stop thinking about going to have fun? The whole world is going to become a frozen block of ice in a month! You're still thinking about flying around at a time like this? Don't be silly!' 'My brother's right! Hurry home and stock up on food and medicine already! Renovate our mansion! Turn the garden into food storage! Turn the swimming pool into a reservoir!' My heart skipped a beat, and the milk in my hand spilled all over the floor. The passenger behind me urged me impatiently, "Can you hurry up? You're holding everyone up." I ignored him. Instead, I turned around and called my assistant. I also gave him another order. "Get me ten thousand pounds of grains and five thousand pounds of pork belly. The ones with the skin on. I want them now!" From that moment on, Kirsten, the woman in Harbor City who only knew how to burn money and fly all over the world, changed. She became Kirsten, ruler of the frozen wasteland.

Everyone in my family knew I was a Bond-Seeker with ninety-nine lives. And still, not one of them loved me. During the holiday, I woke up early making breakfast for my family. My mother threw it all angrily. “You filthy little curse. Don’t dirty my kitchen.” When my father was hospitalized after a car accident, I stayed by his bed for three days and three nights. The moment he woke up, he grabbed the IV bottle beside him and smashed it against my head. “Was killing your twin sister not enough for you? Now you want me dead too?” I used my scholarship money to buy my elder brother a brand-new laptop. He threw it straight off the balcony and watched it shatter on the ground below. “I’m not using anything bought with a cursed girl’s money. I don’t want it shortening my life.” On my eighteenth birthday, I handed a love letter to Ethan Whitmore, the boy next door I had secretly loved for years. He tore it to pieces right in front of me. “What, were you hoping to trade my feelings for points? Get lost, Natalie. I don’t want you getting me killed.” In the end, the System ruled that my bond had failed. Then it took my life back. I thought no one would grieve for me. But before it disappeared, the System spent the last of its energy broadcasting every memory I had across every major platform.

The day I turned eighteen, my father picked my birthday dinner to drop his bombshell: he'd fallen for someone else, and he wanted a divorce. Mom was about to flip the table. Then a stream of comments scrolled across my vision. [Don't make a scene! He's just a cheater. We don't even want him.] [Your mom's gorgeous. Play the sweet, doting type, win him over, and she'll walk away with most of his fortune. We're talking billions!] [Take the billions and enjoy the rest of your life. Beats rotting at home as some bitter ex-wife, doesn't it?] Following the comments, I clapped a hand over Mom's mouth and whispered: "Mom, stop! Dad's worth billions, we have to watch what we say!"

When I'm seven years old, my dad turns me in to the Court Judgment of the Born Wicked because of my tendency to vomit. If I'm found guilty, my blood ties with my dad will be forcibly severed. Then, I'll be sent to prison. Everyone claims that Dad is just making a fuss over nothing. "Your daughter is still so young, so it's natural for her to fall ill. As a father, you should be more considerate toward her." But when the evidence is shown, everyone clamps up immediately. There was once when Dad drank so much to the point he suffered from gastric bleeding. The business contract that he managed to convince his client to sign was all soiled because I vomited on him as soon as he got home. Thanks to me, the contract was voided. Dad got fired on the spot. During Bryce Fuller, my older brother's birthday, I vomited onto his birthday cake in front of his classmates. Because of that, Bryce was isolated by all of his classmates. He became so depressed that he tried to slit his wrist in an attempt to take his own life. I'll keep vomiting everywhere, be it at the dining table or on my bed. Dad and Bryce have to clean me up more than 30 times every day. They suffer greatly because of me. What angers everyone the most is that after I'm done vomiting, I'll laugh at everyone in a provocative manner. The judge gives his verdict instantly, claiming that I'm wicked by nature. Bryce's eyes redden immediately. As he cries, he tells me that he can't bear to see me leaving him. I never shed any tears, nor do I throw a tantrum. Instead, I accept the judge's verdict calmly, but with a prerequisite condition that the judge finishes watching my memories. The judge is shocked, to say the least. "We'll have to crack your skull open in order to extract your memories. You'll be in a world of pain. Are you sure about that?" I nod in determination. But Bryce, on the other hand, looks alarmed. "I won't agree to that!"

My younger sister, Chloe, and I were transmigrated together into a beastworld continent. Beastmen are classified into four distinct ranks: S, A, B, and C. The tribe chieftain, Gideon, gathered all the single beastmen in the tribe for us to choose from. Chloe chose Garrett, the only A-rank werewolf in the entire tribe. She gave birth to five consecutive litters, yet all her children turned out to be mere B-rank beastmen. Furious, Garrett dissolved their mating bond. The other males refused to take her in either, entirely because the offspring she produced were of a mediocre grade. Meanwhile, I chose a B-rank snake shifter and gave birth to ten children in a single litter—all of whom were A-rank. The entire tribe revered me as a divine lady, and the snake shifter successfully inherited Gideon's position. Consumed by sheer jealousy, Chloe poisoned my ten children to death and pushed me off a cliff, leaving me to plunge to my death. Yet, when I opened my eyes again, we had returned to the exact day of selecting our mates. Without a single moment of hesitation, Chloe chose the snake shifter. I knew right then that she had been reincarnated too. But this time, the children she gave birth to would not even qualify as C-rank.

After completing my system mission, I give up the massive reward and choose to stay in this world because I have a happy, loving family. My sister, Naomi Sullivan, is a world-renowned genius scientist, and every one of her discoveries bears my name. My mother, Gloria Lynch, heads a financial empire that controls the global economy, and she transfers every share she owns into my name. And my father, Arnold Sullivan, is an action star. He's a legendary screen icon, but he retires to watch me grow up. I'm the golden child everyone envies until Daniel Sullivan, their biological son, shows up at our door. Overnight, their love for me vanishes, and I become the outsider who stole the rightful heir's place in the family. Daniel stages a fall down the stairs, and Dad breaks my ribs to make me pay. I take a single bite of Daniel's leftover cake because I'm starving, but Mom locks me in the basement with an attack dog for three days. Then, she has a gold cake made just to cheer him up. All it takes is one offhand complaint that his chest feels tight, and Naomi removes my heart to give it to him, replacing it with an artificial one. "It's just a heart. You're strong enough to handle it. Daniel needs it more than you do." Naomi stands nearby with a tablet in hand, coldly logging the results. "Don't worry. Artificial heart technology is already well established. The survival rate is excellent in theory. You won't die." After my soul leaves my body, I watch Daniel casually toss my heart into the trash. Then, the long-silent system finally awakens. "Clifford, would you like to take back everything you bestowed upon them in exchange for a chance to be revived? This includes your mother's fortune, your father's extraordinary physical gifts, and your sister's incredible mind."

Seven days after my father suffered severe burns and was declared brain-dead, Daniel Shaw revived him in front of thirty million viewers. Three minutes after he opened his eyes, I pulled out his ventilator. The cardiac monitor let out a piercing alarm. The color had barely returned to my father’s face before it flushed red again, and the veins in his neck bulged one after another. He opened his mouth like a fish tossed onto dry land, his fingers clawing desperately at the bedsheets. Outside the hospital room, reporters were still livestreaming. Thirty million viewers watched me send my father, the man who had just survived a medical miracle, back to his death.

I spent my whole life desperate to win my mother’s approval. Unfortunately, the woman I had been trying to please was my adoptive mother. Whenever she scolded me, I would say, “You’re right.” Whenever she hit me, I would still ask, “Did that hurt your hand?” But after fifteen years of sucking up to her, the affection score above her head was still [0]. Then I was brought back to the ducal estate, where I learned that I was their true-born heiress. The moment I stepped through the gates, all eight of my brothers were standing behind the girl who took my place, looking at me as though I were an unwelcome stranger who came to demand what was hers. The fake heiress’ eyes reddened as she said, “Melody, I took your place for fifteen years. If you hate me for it, I’m willing to leave.” My eldest brother, Patrick Shaw, immediately frowned. “Ivy is in poor health. You’re already trying to force her out the moment you arrive?” My second brother, Linus Shaw, shielded Ivy behind him. “Our family has raised Ivy for fifteen years. She is our sister.” I looked at the affection scores above their heads— [4, 3...] Then floating comments appeared before my eyes: [Oh no, the real heiress got the worst possible start.] [All eight brothers are total sister-con fanatics, but unfortunately, the sister they adore isn’t the female lead!] I did not care about any of that. I only wanted to know where my real mother was. More comments drifted across my vision. [Unless she can win over her biological mother, the Princess Regent.] My mother was the Princess Regent! Just then, a woman stepped down from the royal carriage outside. The affection score above her head slowly lit up: [60]. My eyes sparkled as I called out excitedly, “Mother—” Finally, my particular talent had found its perfect target. I was definitely winning her over!

Ever since I was born, my parents bound me to a Pain Transfer System. My body was covered in scars. My older brother, Dylan Jeater, had albinism and Hydroa Vacciniforme. His condition was so severe that he could not be exposed to any light. Doctors determined that he would only live to be sixteen years old. However, Dylan had always been playful. He often snuck outside. Eventually, his body was covered in sores. My father, Robert Jeater, worked day and night to earn money. He finally bought two Pain Transfer System wristbands at a high price for Dylan and me. For six years, the pain Dylan felt from every sun exposure had been transferred to me. My mother, May Jeater, always held me gently and treated my wounds. She said, “Chester, I’m sorry. I just want Dylan to be happy in the time he has left. I hope you understand.” On New Year’s Eve, my parents took Dylan out. It was very sunny that day. As soon as we left the house, my whole body broke out in blisters. I could not help but cry out in pain. Dylan tore off his wristband and broke down sobbing. “Does it hurt? Fine, if you think it hurts so much, then turn off the transfer! Let me just die of the pain! “I’ll only live up to sixteen anyway. I’m going to die sooner or later.” His body became severely sunburned, and he lost consciousness. Mom shoved me to the ground. “Dylan never complained once in all those years of pain! After only six years of it being passed to you, you’re already breaking down?! “He’s only going to live to be sixteen! Is it wrong to want him to be happy in his last few years?” Dad picked up Dylan. “I don’t want you getting hurt either, but the pain can only be transferred between biological brothers.” They then rushed him to the hospital. I picked up the wristband from the ground. A message popped up on the screen. [Do you want to transfer your remaining lifespan to the linked user?] Without any hesitation, I pressed confirm.

At the court, my daughter, Hannah Wright, accuses me of being a sexist tormentor with violent tendencies. With tears running down her cheeks, she slowly takes off her clothes, revealing her wounds to everyone present. "She's a monster! She buys mangoes for my younger brother, Rodney, and yet she makes me kneel on the floor while munching on the peels! "Then, she beats me up in public and even strips me naked before forcing me to kneel and apologize! On top of that, she doesn't feed me at all!" Everyone gasps in shock before glaring at me angrily. They are all waiting for me to get sentenced to hell and back. But what Hannah refuses to bring up is that I can't let her eat any mangoes due to her severe allergy. If she were to have any, she'd go into shock immediately. I beat her up because she had the audacity to switch out the tea leaves to sheep droppings just to pull a prank on an elderly family member during her funeral. Naturally, I punished her because she actually mixed weed killer into Rodney's milk and tried to feed him with it! At the end of the day, Hannah remembers the pain she's been through, yet she completely forgets about the atrocious misdeeds that she herself has committed!

After reuniting with my family, I become the real son in a story about a fake heir and the real one. But on the 15th of every month, my sister, Ingrid Lawson, and I switch bodies for a day. Whenever I'm in her body, I carefully maintain her professional relationships and do my best to protect her image as the heiress. But she treats my life like a joke she can end whenever she wants. One month, she puts the fake heir Don Lawson's name on the proposal I have worked so hard on. The next month, she tears up my diagnosis of severe depression. When I tell her to stop, she just laughs impatiently. "Depression? That's just your tactic to get the inheritance. "Don has been frail since he was a kid. What's so hard about giving in to him? No wonder Mom and Dad don't like you. You're so petty. "Since you can't learn how to behave, I'll show you how a good brother should act." During our eighth body swap, she signs my consent form to donate a kidney to Don. I'm completely disillusioned, but she just shrugs it off. "Don isn't in good health. It's just a kidney. Why can't you donate it? It's our last body swap, so stop being selfish." If that's how she wants it, I don't care anymore. She doesn't know that the pair of pendants only lets us switch bodies nine times. After the final swap, we'll both be trapped in each other's bodies forever.

On the day I'm diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer, my dad suddenly gains the ability to hear people's inner thoughts. My stepmother, Pauline Barton, scolds inwardly, "Why isn't this old fool dead yet?" But what my dad hears is, "Honey, I'd gladly trade ten years of my life for your health." I kneel before him and beg him to take me to the hospital. In my heart, I'm crying, "Dad, please save me. I'm in so much pain." But what he hears is, "Hurry up and give me some money, old man. I want to buy the latest designer bag." So, he dotes on Pauline while throwing me, who is gravely ill, into a dog cage without food or water. Pointing at me, he snarls, "How can you be so vicious? I can't believe you want me dead!" Curled up in agony, I sob as I try to explain. However, all I get in return are even harsher beatings and insults. The moment I die, his ability finally starts working properly. My soul drifts above as I watch him hold Pauline and weep. But inside, she's laughing hysterically. "They're finally all dead. Now the entire family fortune is mine." This time, Dad hears every single word, loud and clear.