Familial Bond Imagination Short Stories & Novels

My father, Cameron Howard, and I are transported to an ancient world together. The system tells us that if we can each win over a target, we'll be able to return home. My mission is to win the heart of a ruthless princess, and Dad's mission is to conquer a hot-tempered queen. The princess breaks two of my ribs and ties me behind a horse that drags me for miles. The queen decides Dad isn't kneeling straight enough. So, she crushes his knees with iron tongs and forces burning charcoal into his mouth until he loses his voice. For three years, we live miserably. Just as the system announces "Mission failed", the princess standing before me suddenly smiles. She tears off the mask covering her face. The person underneath the mask is my wife, Abigail Finch. She walks over to the throne and pats the fierce queen on the shoulder. "Mom, haven't you had enough? Cameron and Oscar are almost dead from everything you've put them through." The queen removes her disguise and looks up. It's my mother, Elisha Sweeney. She claps her hands toward the officials filling the throne room. "Alright, everyone. You can get up now. That's a wrap." Dad and I exchange stunned looks. Mom gently squeezes my crippled hand and sighs. "Does it hurt, Oscar? You and your dad made Kenneth Ingram's life miserable every day. You even drove his son, Joel Ingram, into bankruptcy. You've suffered enough now. Consider the score settled." The officials throughout the court remove their wigs, revealing walkie-talkies and sweat-soaked T-shirts beneath their costumes. But none of them know that the transmigration is fake, but the system is real. In the final moments of our lives, Dad and I make a pact with the system. We offer up both of our souls as the sacrifice in exchange for a lifetime of wealth, peace, and happiness for them.

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.”

The third time my fiancé, Jeffrey Lewis, shoves me into a horde of zombies, I stop struggling as I do for the first two times. Alison Sheppard leans against his chest with a pale face. "Jeff, I overused my powers just now. My blood sugar's low, and I'm craving some chocolate. I think the bag we had fell into the zombie horde." Without even looking back, Jeffrey raises a hand and pushes me forward. "Go get it, Juliet. Your protective shield ability keeps the zombies from noticing you anyway. You won't get hurt." My brother, Lucas Cox, looks at me anxiously and urges, "Why are you stalling? Hurry up! Alison is our savior. You should be willing to die for her!" The other survivors all nod in agreement. "How expected of a piece of trash. This is the only thing she's good for. Go pick it up already. Don't keep Ms. Sheppard waiting for her snack." As I listen to their cruel words, I feel my blood run cold. What they don't know is that I'm the one bound to the Savior System. For the past three years, the protective shield around this base has existed only because I exchange the Fondness points I've earned for it. And just moments ago, the system tells me something. [Host's Fondness points have dropped to zero. The protective shield will soon fail. Erasure countdown initiated!]

On a stormy night during the apocalypse, my own mother threw me out of the house while I was burning with fever, along with my husky, so my little brother would have a better chance of surviving. She shouted through the crack in the door, “Take that useless mutt and go die somewhere. Stop wasting your brother’s food!” I huddled in a pile of trash with my dog in my arms, convinced I was going to die. Then my husky suddenly spoke. “Host’s vital signs critically low. Infinite Supply Search System activated.” “Supermarket warehouse one hundred meters ahead. Three thousand freeze-dried meals detected.” “Pharmacy five hundred meters to the left. Five hundred boxes of antibiotics detected.” Three days later, I’d built a fortress with packs of dogs and mountains of supplies. I sat inside eating steak and watching the show. Outside the barbed wire, my mother and brother were on their knees, fighting each other over half a piece of moldy bread. I smiled. “Mom, even dogs wouldn’t eat that. Better savor it.”

Trapped in a sweltering 40-degree sauna room, I overheard my older brothers talking outside. My second-oldest brother, Sean Lambert, remarked, "This kid is too stubborn. We need to teach her a lesson." My third-oldest brother, Jacob Lambert, replied, "The temperature has been adjusted. She won't die." I was locked up alone for 72 hours. It was their way of punishing me because of my stepsister. Yet, they were the ones who used to love me the most. My father was a business tycoon, my eldest brother, Axel Lambert, was skilled in finance, Sean was a legal expert, and Jacob was a medical prodigy. My mother passed away after fulfilling her mission, leaving these four men to look after me. They once showered me with love like I was their precious gem, until I turned five. That's when my stepmother and her daughter came into the picture, and I was banished to the housekeeper's room. Their attention shifted entirely to my stepsister. Whenever she cried, my father would bring out the punishment box for me to draw lots. 72 hours passed, but no one came to open the door. Before I blacked out, a few lines of small text popped up before my eyes: [The minor character is about to die. Once she dies, she can be reunited with her mother.]

Since birth, my parents have been using a pain-transfer system on me, leaving my body covered in scars. It's all because my older sister, Luna Carter, has albinism and an unusually severe sensitivity to sunlight. Even brief exposure can cause serious damage to her skin. The doctor predicts she won't make it past 16. However, Luna loves to play and often sneaks outside, leaving her skin festering. Dad works tirelessly and finally earns enough money to buy us two pain-transfer wristbands. For six years, all the pain Luna suffers from sun exposure is transferred to me. "Stella, I'm sorry. I just want Luna to be happy in her final days. My good girl, Stella," Mom says as she holds me and gently tends to my wounds. On New Year's Eve, Mom and Dad take Luna outside. The sun is scorching. The moment they step outside, blisters break out all over my skin. I can't help crying out in pain. Suddenly, Luna rips off her wristband and breaks down in tears. "Does it hurt? If it hurts so much, then stop transferring the pain. I'd rather die from the pain myself! I'm only going to live until 16 anyway! It makes no difference whether I die sooner or later!" In an instant, Luna collapses, burns covering her body. Mom shoves me to the ground, yelling. "Luna has endured this pain for so many years without a single complaint! You've only borne her pain for six years, and you can't even handle that? She'll only live until she's 16. I just want her to be happy! What's wrong with that?" Dad picks Luna up and says to me, "I hate seeing you suffer too, but the pain can only be transferred between biological sisters." With that, they rush Luna to the hospital. I pick up the wristband from the ground, and a prompt pops up. "Do you wish to transfer your lifespan to another party?" Without hesitation, I tap "Yes".

I'm a capybara. Yet, after taking a single nap, I wake up as the scion of the Kensington family, Drake Kensington. When I crawl back to the sprawling 32,300-square-foot villa, my entire family's scared stiff. Matthew Kensington, the Kensingtons' adopted son, points at me and screams, "There's a ghost!" Without even looking up, I deadpan, "Oh, yeah, I'm whatever you say I am." He passes out on the spot. Drake's biological father, Garrett Kensington, slams his fist down on the table and snarls, "Look at you! Do you look anything like the heir to the wealthiest family? Have you seriously forgotten how to walk?" I give his question some serious thought. Crawling does take less effort than walking, and having a lower center of gravity does make me feel safer. Hence, I answer truthfully, "Yeah, I have. Can you teach me?" Drake's older sister, Sage Kensington, strides up to me. "Drake, did you get water in your brain? You've been screwing around for a year, and now you come crawling back and pull this stunt just to get attention?" Come to think of it, I really did gulp down a ton of seawater earlier. I can still hear it sloshing around in my ears. I nod at her vigorously. "Yeah. My brain's full of water. Lots of it. It hasn't even dried out yet. Do you want to hear it slosh?"

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.

My answers were a 100% match with my younger brother, Jacob Scott's, answers for 20 consecutive major exams. No matter how fast I completed my exam papers, he would always manage to complete his one second ahead of me. My class teacher had talked about this to me three times, and I was given a warning for cheating. When my classmates saw me, they said, "Hey, copycat, did you get caught again?" How could our answers be the same when I had never touched his papers at all? This continued until our SATs, when I suddenly saw a live chat overlay floating in the air. [Jacob is the chosen one. It must feel great for him to suddenly have the power to read minds! [He's been getting all the right answers by reading Jonah's mind. It doesn't matter that Jonah is a genius when he's relegated to a stepping stone for Jacob's road to success!] When I read through the exam papers, I started humming the alphabet song, "A, B, C, D, E, F, G…"

After successfully completing the mission, I return to my original world. I awaken from my vegetative state to find my now-grown children waiting at my bedside. My husband pulls me into a tight embrace. My parents and mother-in-law are overcome with tears of joy. Just as I'm about to say goodbye to the System and choose to remain in my original world, a woman who looks almost exactly like me pushes open the door. My children rush over to her, calling her "Mommy" affectionately. Everyone looks at me awkwardly. The woman gives me a provocative smile. I stop the System. "Let me think about whether I want to stay here."

I have a bad habit. I always say I’ll do something, but whether I actually follow through is another story. When I was eight, my adoptive father stole an e-bike and told me to keep watch. I patted my chest confidently. “Don’t worry. If anyone comes, I’ll tell you!” Then I squatted by the curb and got distracted watching a trail of ants. Twenty minutes later, my adoptive father was hauled away in a police car, along with the stolen battery. Later, I was kidnapped. The trafficker told me to sit still and keep quiet. I nodded eagerly. “Okay, sir!” Then I rolled down the window and waved at everyone outside. “Hi! My uncle told me not to make any noise!” By the time we’d driven three blocks, the police had received more than a dozen calls. As the officers dragged him out of the car, the trafficker broke down. “I’ve been doing this for ten years, and I’ve never had a job go this horribly wrong!” That was how my DNA ended up in a database for missing and trafficked children. Four years later, my wealthy biological parents found me. On my first day in their mansion, the girl who had taken my place came to me holding a bracelet. “Nina, this bracelet has been in the Bennett family for generations. You’re their biological daughter, so it rightfully belongs to you.” I agreed without hesitation. “Sure. I’ll take it!” Then she ran crying into Mom’s arms and claimed I’d stolen the bracelet Grandma had left her. My brother flew into a rage and kicked open my bedroom door. “Nina Bennett! How dare you steal Fiona’s bracelet and humiliate her?” I looked up at him in confusion. “What bracelet?” “Don’t play dumb!” He was about to have my room searched when the butler rushed in. “Mrs. Bennett, this bracelet has been sitting in the foyer the whole time. One of the housekeepers nearly put it away with the costume jewelry.”

In my previous life, everyone in my family could hear my mother's inner thoughts. I managed to land a new job. The pay was high, and the benefits were great. Instead of being happy for me, she was deeply anxious. She thought, "With her education and her abilities, how could she possibly get a job like that? She must've slept her way to it." After my father heard that, he refused to let me go to work. He stormed into my workplace, made a huge scene, and got me fired. I was furious and decided to move out for a while and stay at my boyfriend's place. On the surface, my mother supported my decision. Deep down, however, she was desperately trying to stop me. She thought, "What should I do? That boyfriend of hers has been married for years. He even has a child. She's someone's mistress. "If she really moves in, that man's wife will surely have a go at her. She'll embarrass the rest of us!" To keep me from leaving, my younger brother broke both my legs with a stick. Then, they locked me inside the house and leave me to suffer on my own. My wounds festered and became infected. I begged them to take me to the hospital, but my mother sighed inwardly, thinking, "She's so rebellious. No matter what anyone says, she insists on leaving this family. "In truth, there's nothing wrong with her legs at all. Once she gets to the hospital, she'll definitely escape." After that, everyone ignored my pleas and left me to die in agony. Even at the very end, I never knew who was to blame for my death. When I open my eyes again now, I realize that I, too, can hear my mother's inner thoughts.

As the son of Harbor City's casino magnate, I willingly handed control of the World Cup book to my stepsister, Sophie Bell. It was only because, in my last life, Sophie, who had never watched soccer seriously, suddenly turned into the family's lucky charm and called sixteen World Cup matches in a row. Every single night I stayed up breaking down each team's tactics and studying the players' habits and tricks. Yet Sophie could always predict the exact score, a step ahead, saying out loud the very answer in my mind. "Admit it, Adrian. I'm just stronger than you! Everyone, listen to me and go all in!" After that, the whole internet worshiped her as a goddess and praised her as a natural-born betting queen. Everyone mocked me as nothing but a fraud who'd never deserved his name. I was driven out of the family, and in a daze, someone shoved me off a high-rise. Only in that moment did I finally learn the truth: my stepsister could eavesdrop on my thoughts in real time. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the night the World Cup began. This time, I didn't watch the matches. Instead, I looped through my head: "Darling, hold my hands. Nothing beats a jet 2 holiday, right now you can..."

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.

I was the long-lost daughter of the wealthiest family. On my first day back, I was handed a two-hundred-million-dollar trust fund. But that very night, I found out our entire family was doomed to end badly. We were mere cannon fodder in someone else’s story. My father was the overbearing tycoon who would be publicly humiliated and driven into bankruptcy by the male lead. My mother was the harsh, spiteful mother-in-law who made the female lead’s life miserable. My brother was the devoted second male lead who willingly played the fool and got cheated on. My adoptive sister was the tragic “first love” supporting character, destined for a miserable end. Me: “Wow. Just great.”

The fake heiress was dead. My biological parents believed I was responsible. Together, they reported me to the authorities and demanded that my memories be extracted. After watching my memories, everyone broke down in tears. But I smiled. This was exactly what I wanted. To become the perfect victim.

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.

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.

After the fire, my younger brother, Ethan Harper, and I have become comatose. Our own parents choose to deliver us to the rebirth trial. If we pass the trial, we'll regain consciousness and be granted a brand new life. The sensory caps are attached to our heads and soon connected to our brainwaves. Ethan chokes out, "Since Mom and Dad loves you so much, you'll definitely receive their votes, Emma." I turn to look at the judge instead. "After I'm reborn, can I request a new pair of parents? It's fine if the answer is no. My parents will still die, anyway."

The day I win a brand-new BMW, I suddenly receive a call from myself, ten years in the future. "Kieran will ask to borrow your car in a bit. And whatever you do, do not lend it to him. He intends to use it to pay off his gambling debt." Even with such an impossibility happening to me, I do not doubt a thing. When Kieran asks for my keys, I shut him down at once. That very night, he drives his old beater car to visit our parents. Along the way, he loses control of the car and collides with another vehicle. Just like that, he slips into a coma. The guilt hit me so hard that I eventually pass out. Mom and Dad stay by my side day and night until I can stand on my own two feet again. But the future version of me sounds cold when she calls again. "They only want to push you onto an operating table. They want your heart to save him!" Growing suspicious, I check their bags and find a donor report. Rage burns through me. I immediately block them on all platforms and throw them out of my home. When news that Kieran dies from blood loss arrives, I learn that they only ever needed my blood—not my heart. I try to find them to tell them the truth and apologize for my mistake. But the mysterious phone rings again. "They hate you because Kieran died. If you go to them now, they will drag you into a suicide pact." I freeze at the revelation, then tell my future myself that I will wait until they calm down. Later, I learn that a thief breaks into their home and kills them. I try to rush over and see them one last time, but a truck hits me and kills me on the spot. I die without ever understanding why the version of me from ten years in the future wanted me dead. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day I won the prize.