Independence Imagination Short Stories & Face Slapping Novels

Nathan Carter was famous in high society for being completely devoted to his wife. All because I had an almost obsessive need to control him. Not only did he have to video call me every five minutes to check in, but every morning when I woke up, I expected a five-thousand-word love letter waiting for me. The first time he was a minute late checking in, my paranoia spiraled out of control, and I bombarded him with ninety-nine voice messages, threatening to kill myself. He transferred me one million dollars, dropped to his knees, and swore it would never happen again before I reluctantly forgave him. His voice softened as he leaned closer, trying to kiss me. Suddenly, a flood of comments exploded across my vision. [Exactly! Once Quinn catches HIV, he should dump her. A villainess like her deserves to get sick, lose the baby, and die a miserable death!] [Who could put up with a crazy woman like her? If she hadn't pushed the male lead so hard, he never would've slept around and contracted HIV!] [When is the female lead finally going to show up? I can't wait for her and the male lead to heal each other and get their happily ever after!] I looked at Nathan, who had already taken off his shirt, his breathing heavy. I hurriedly grabbed a towel from the side and wrapped it around myself. "Honey, I'm suddenly not feeling very well. Don't you have a meeting to get to? You should go. I don't want to keep you from work."

My deskmate, Miranda Krause, has made a pact with the grade-swapping system. Because of that, she's able to swap her empty exam papers with my stellar ones. That's how Miranda ends up becoming the top scorer on the SATs. I, on the other hand, have flunked the exam, making me the laughingstock of the city. Unable to endure the suffering any longer, I choose to take my life by jumping off the school building. Little do I know that I'll return to the timeframe before the SATs take place. This time, I secretly slip an envelope between the folds of Miranda's backpack. It contains 700 dollars in cash as well as a talisman. The scribbles on the talisman may seem like chicken scratch, but one can vaguely make out the words "score-swapping" there.

I had just been confirmed as a match and was preparing to donate a kidney to my husband's adoptive sister. That night, she left her iPad in the living room. The screen was still on, showing her chat with the doctor: [Doctor, please don't tell my sister-in-law. If she has a kidney removed, her hidden heart condition will flare up, and she won't live longer than three months.] The next day, I canceled the donation without a second thought. My husband flew into a rage. He called me cold-blooded and forced me to sign a divorce agreement that left me with nothing. The next day, I stood outside the hospital room and heard my sister-in-law laughing smugly. "She's so stupid. I faked one chat screenshot, and she actually believed she was sick. Now her penthouse is mine, and we can finally be together openly." My husband kissed her. "Good girl. Later, I'll find you a good kidney on the black market." Outside the door, I sneered. Of course, I knew the chat log was fake. I had come back from the future, after all. In two weeks, the zombie outbreak would begin. Those two so-called siblings who were actually lovers would not only steal my medicine, they would push me out to feed me to the zombies. This time, with only four days left before zombie hordes overran the city, I wanted to see how long a sick woman without a new kidney and a scumbag without supplies could last in that penthouse.

On my wedding anniversary, my three-year-old son gave me an alpaca as a gift. I turned right around and shipped it off to the circus, where I found it a strapping alpaca husband. All because I'd been reborn. In my last life, that alpaca was sweet and gentle with everyone—except me. Every single day, it spat on me. Determined not to disappoint my son, I tried everything to win it over, but nothing worked. My mind unraveled. I stopped sleeping. I started hearing things that weren't there, and every night I dreamed of that alpaca chasing me down to spit in my face. My husband called me vicious. My son called me petty. And the two of them only grew closer to that alpaca by the day. Worn down and broken, I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills and ended it. Floating above my own body after death, I watched in shock as it stood back up on its own. My son ran sobbing into "my" arms. "Mom, you're finally not an alpaca anymore!" My husband smiled and pulled them both into an embrace. "Nadia, you've been through so much. If it weren't for needing a healthy body to move your soul into, you'd never have had to suffer inside that alpaca for two years." That was when I finally understood. That alpaca had been Nadia Salem all along—the sickly impostor who'd stolen my identity for over twenty years.

For a decade, my world had been measured in laundry cycles, grocery lists, and the ever-growing pile of dishes in the sink. I was elbow-deep in soapy water, scrubbing the remnants of another family meal, when it happened. A sudden, silent cascade of text flickered at the edge of my vision, like subtitles for a movie only I could see: [Gosh, the heroine is so tragic. Her husband's entire family has been feeding on her luck like parasites!] [Her husband stole her graduate school admission and her career!] [The in-laws are literally siphoning her health away. No wonder she's always sick.] [And the sister-in-law took her "romance" stat! No wonder her love life is a desert.] [Heads up! Her husband's about to give her another "gift." Let's see how much more he takes from her this time.] My hands, clutching a greasy plate, froze. Right on cue, my husband, Tristan, sauntered into the kitchen. A smug, self-satisfied smile was plastered on his face as he took my wet hand. He slid a flimsy, garishly colored plastic bracelet onto my wrist. "Look what I got for you, sweetheart," he announced, his voice dripping with pride. "I made a special trip after work. Found it at the dollar store. It's romantic and economical, just like you always say you want. You love it, don't you?"

On my wedding day, I jumped from the 38th floor of the hotel. It all started when I got together with my first love, Colin Frey. My best friend, Alice Manning, came to me and said she had bound herself to some kind of love system. She claimed that every guy I dated would fall for her and dump me. I thought she was just messing around and did not believe her. However, just a few days later, Colin came to me and confessed that he wanted to break up because he had fallen in love with Alice. After that, I got smart about it. I stopped telling anyone about my relationships and did not even post anything on social media. Yet, somehow Alice always knew. It was as if she had installed some kind of tracking device on me. No matter who I dated, she would find out. Then, within days, they would all fall head over heels for her and leave me behind. I was completely heartbroken, so I moved back to my hometown to get as far away from Alice as possible. Through my parents' arrangement, I was set to marry a guy through a blind date setup. Yet, on the actual wedding day, he stood up in front of everyone and confessed his love to Alice, saying he wanted to marry her instead. My parents, who were sitting in the audience, were so furious and devastated that they collapsed on the spot. They were rushed to the hospital, but it was too late. They were gone. Meanwhile, Alice was wearing the ring that was supposed to be mine, looking absolutely smug as she boasted, "A man this amazing? As if you deserve him. Now he's mine, so why don't you just step aside like a good girl?" I could not take the blow, so I climbed to the hotel rooftop and leapt off without hesitation. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the very moment before Alice had ever mentioned that so-called system.

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 Holy Maiden of the Beast World, foretold by the High Priest. I was also the future Beast Lady. Three of the best males were carefully selected to become my mates. However, I knew that they disliked me, even planning to kill me on our wedding night and hand my Holy Maiden position to my half-sister, whom they truly loved. Thus, when my father asked me to choose one of them to be my chief mate, I knelt on the sacred ground and drew lots, hoping the heavens could help me. Unexpectedly, I drew the clan's High Priest.

The day I took over the Ashford family, a man from another world took over my body. He used my identity as head of the Ashford family to fawn over my three adoptive sisters and devote himself to winning them over. "The original owner of this body was far too cold-hearted. A thoughtful man like me, who knows how to treat women well, is the one who can win their hearts." But his efforts ended with my three adoptive sisters pushing him into the ocean after the nanny’s son shed a few tears. When I opened my eyes again, my two sisters were already storming in to accuse me. "Stop pretending. You knew Cade is afraid of water, yet you still pushed him into the pool.” "You only swallowed a few mouthfuls of water. Don’t think this little pity act will win you any sympathy!" "Kneel down and apologize to Cade right now." "Smack!" I slapped them both across the face. Then I wiped my hands. "When did the people living under my roof start thinking they could challenge me? The Blackridge mining project needs workers. You two will do."

I had regressed ninety-nine times, and it all started because I brought home an injured man. Every time I came back, strange floating comments appeared in front of my eyes. I could also hear my baby brother's thoughts. The moment my brother saw Tristan Price, he screamed and refused to stop crying. "Send that man back! He's going to get our whole family killed!" I reached out hesitatingly toward Tristan, and the chat overlay flickered to life again. [The man lying in your bed is your future husband and the prince regent. He never forgets a kindness. Save him, and he will make you his princess consort. Your entire family will be protected and well provided for.] The first time, I followed my heart and did what the messages told me to do. I saved Tristan, and he used me as a human shield. The assassins hunting him found us, and my entire family was slaughtered. The second time, I listened to my brother instead and sent Tristan back where I found him. His men came to our door anyway, accused me of leaving him to die, and killed everyone. The third time, I found Tristan's closest aide before the assassins arrived and quietly handed Tristan over. Then Tristan went mad without warning and stabbed me himself. When my family tried to avenge me, they were killed too. I tried every approach I could think of to avoid my family's tragic fate, and every single one ended in failure. This time, I chose to wait for death. Then the comments appeared again, and something about them caught my eye.

I was the ultimate Cinderella: a girl who married into a wealthy family. A drone proposal captivated the whole city. After the wedding, I was showered with designer goods, and my in-laws gave me a million dollars a month in spending money. My best friend, Sasha Lane, married the poorest man. She counted every penny, while her husband came home drenched in sweat from the construction site each day. Her eyes often filled with tears as she said, "Shayla, I wish I could have a life like yours." I smiled and said nothing. Then she made a wish to the genie in a magic lamp, and we really did swap souls. She cried as she apologized to me. "I'm sorry. I can't bear living with a man like him in that tiny, run-down apartment. I can't bear going to the market every day to pick through vegetables no one else wants." At the end, she was smiling. "But you're different, Shayla. You're just an orphan. You don't deserve a life like this." With that, she climbed into the luxury car without looking back. I stood where I was and laughed until I cried. She didn't know I spent every day on my knees with a dog bowl in front of me. She didn't know my husband slept around, or that I'd contracted HIV. And she had no idea I couldn't spend a cent from that million-dollar bank card. I wiped away my tears and walked toward the 215-square-foot rental she was so desperate to escape. I opened the door. A plate of spaghetti sat on the table, still steaming.

Although I'm the ace translator of my company, I let the receptionist, Janice Cartman, take charge of a translation project that's worth over 100 million dollars of my own volition. In my past life, Janice is the childhood friend of my boyfriend, Nicholas Sanders, who has dropped out of middle school. Yet, she suddenly masters eight languages overnight. Not only that, but she claims that she simply taught herself the languages. I need to research the technical terms beforehand every time I take on a translation project, but Janice is able to easily translate anything that she hears on the spot with 100% accuracy. Everyone praises Janice for being a translation genius while calling me a worthless loser in private. Janice stops me when I'm about to go on stage to fulfill my duties as the translator for the 100-million-dollar project. I've spent the last two weeks preparing for it, sacrificing sleep to ensure that I'm completely ready. "This isn't the time for you to show off, Giselle. This project will determine whether the company will become publicly listed. Your foundation isn't as good as mine, so I'll take your place!" Nicholas and my other colleagues fully support Janice's suggestion. I do everything I can to change their minds, but in the end, I'm still forcefully replaced. Janice's translations are flawless. She's lauded as the hero of the company. Meanwhile, I'm demoted to a cleaning lady under the pretext that my skills are lacking. I don't understand. I've spent the last decade working myself to the bone to hone my skills, yet I still lose to Janice, who becomes a translation genius overnight. In a daze, I accidentally lose my footing and drown to death. Seconds before I breathe my last breath, I find out that Janice's translations are a hoax. She simply repeats the words that she hears in my heart. When I open my eyes again, I realize that I've been transported back to the day when Janice claims that she's a translation genius who knows eight languages. This time, I don't stay up all night to prepare my translation materials. Instead, I start memorizing a funeral speech!

For the sake of that fake heiress, my biological parents and brother threw me into a horror game to "teach me some manners." The second the game started, the fake heiress, Nicole, went out of her way to provoke the ghosts nonstop. Once she'd pissed them off, she shoved me in front of her to take the punishment. As I lay there, tortured within an inch of my life, she planted her foot on my head and smirked. "Mom and Dad already made it clear—I'm the only one they truly love. They only brought you back to keep me entertained! Letting you deal with those ghosts for me is more than generous. If you dare complain, once my brother and the others get back, they'll skin you alive." In my past life, I treated them like family and gave in every single time. In the end, I was nothing but a stepping stone for them to beat the game—torn apart and devoured by over a dozen ghosts. But now, I've been reborn. "Welcome to Horror Instance: Happy Home." The moment I heard that mechanical announcement, I slapped the arrogant Nicole so hard she flew across the room. Because in this instance, the three bosses that terrorized every player… were all my family. The red-dressed female ghost who killed without hesitation was my adoptive mother. The monster with scissors for hands who ripped out hearts with a single swipe was my adoptive father. And the ruthless warden who devoured people whole, leaving no bones behind, was my adoptive brother. With them watching my back, why the hell would I keep putting up with this? A mocking smile curled across my lips as I said, "You're on my turf; none of you are getting out alive."

I was only one final background check away from securing my future. That afternoon, I grabbed my document folder and prepared to drive to my fiancée’s place to pick up a statement that verified our family relationship. Yet the moment my fingertips touched the car keys, several pale-gray lines of text appeared before my eyes. [Do not touch the car. At 7:20 tonight, someone will die on the West Ring Road service lane. The car that hits them will carry your license plate. Three days later, the victim’s daughter will stab you during your background-check interview.] I stood frozen in the entryway, and cold sweat spread across my back. At that moment, my phone rang. My fiancée’s gentle voice came through the receiver. “Reid, just drive over here. There’s a bunch of paperwork, and I can help you look everything over again.”

On our wedding night, my husband, Ralph Raymond, dropped dead in our bed and left me hundreds of millions. Naturally, everyone told me to remarry while I was still young. Even my best friend secretly set me up with a guy. Broad shoulders. Slim waist. Not as hot or rich as Ralph, but young, sweet, and always there. Then he proposed. And glowing messages blew up in front of my face. [Do NOT say yes! Lila set this whole thing up! She knows Ralph's ghost is still right beside you!] [The second you take that ring, everyone will call you a gold digger and a cheating liar!] [Ralph's love will turn into hate. When he comes back from the dead, you're the first person he'll strangle.] [And your fake bestie? She'll save the man you betrayed, steal his heart, take his fortune, and spend the next forty years living your life. Their epic love story will be the only thing anyone talks about.] I stared at the guy on one knee, holding out a diamond ring. A few seconds passed. I chose to trust the messages. Then I slapped him.

My wealthy family could hear every thought in my head. On my first day home, they sent their adopted son a forty-thousand-dollar allowance. Me? They sent thirty bucks. I grumbled to myself, 'Is this a joke? Thirty dollars? I make more than that tightening bolts at the plant.' They looked down their noses at me, sneering, waiting for me to come crawling to them. Then they heard what I thought next. 'A top Healy City family's monthly allowance for both its sons adds up to a measly 40,030 dollars? That wouldn't even buy a square yard of insulation. 'What family fortune is there to even fight over? 'The plant still hasn't hit this year's KPI of thirty rockets. Instead of wasting time on rich-family power games, I could be building a few more rockets to hold off the aliens.'

I decide to get onboard with the latest trend by custom-ordering a merfolk meant to serve me from AquaGene Corp. On the day Lance arrives at the company, the engineer tells me, "It's highly recommended that you be there in person, Ms. Ross. That way, you'll be able to form the initial bond with him." So, I spend one day standing before the eco-tank. As soon as Lance opens his eyes, he doesn't show any signs of wanting to get close to me. Instead, he merely scrutinizes me coldly before turning his back on me. I comfort myself, thinking that Lance is just shy. But one week later, I realize how wrong I truly am. I pay money because I want to buy a partner who can keep me company forever. Turns out I buy myself the biggest trouble of the century instead.

The day before the SAT, strange comments suddenly appear before my eyes. "In a while, your childhood friend, Savannah Dunham, will come to you complaining about a stomachache. She will ask you to accompany her to the restroom. "She'll give birth there, then accuse you of being the baby's father. Since you'll be at the scene and she'll personally identify you as the father of the baby, the police will arrest you on the spot. By the time the truth comes out, you'll have already missed the SAT." The very next moment, Savannah clutches her stomach and grabs my arm. "Benny, my stomach hurts. Can you come to the restroom with me?" Every word she says and every move she makes matches the comments exactly. Then, another comment appears. "Her boyfriend is Michael Crowley, the one who always comes second. If you miss the SAT, Michael will become the top scorer this year." I shake off Savannah's hand immediately. "I'm sorry. Ms. Kirkland asked to see me. She said there's a problem with my exam admission pass. You'll have to go by yourself."

My sister-in-law, Alicia, insisted that her son was a chosen fighter, blessed by God and immune to harm. The truth was far darker: every injury meant for him was being transferred onto my daughter. His congenital heart disease disappeared overnight. While most children his age were still carefully protected, he was already taking part in extreme sports and never suffered so much as a scratch. Meanwhile, my once-healthy daughter weakened day by day. She began to suffer unexplained fractures throughout her body. There was not a single place left uninjured. It was impossible not to see the connection. When I voiced my suspicions to my husband, Jeff Charlton, and my mother-in-law, Kelly Freeman, they dismissed me as delusional. They accused me of being jealous that Alicia had given birth to a prodigy, while I had nothing but a "worthless" daughter. Later, Alicia's son completed a trek across the Saharain Desert and became an overnight sensation, a child star adored by millions. At the same time, my daughter suddenly collapsed from heatstroke and died without warning. Alicia went live on her platform, accusing me of making false claims out of envy. Her followers believed every word. They hunted me down and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the moment Alicia first proclaimed her son a miracle child. This time, I was no longer a powerless mother. As a specialist doctor, I calmly pulled on my gloves. "Alicia," I said with a smile, "Let me examine my nephew and see if he's truly cured."

At one in the morning, the neighbor upstairs suddenly knocked on my door. He said there was a leak in his apartment and asked if our place had been affected. I was just about to open the door when my vision was flooded with comments. [Open the door, and you're dead! That man outside is not your neighbor!] [Didn't the old man upstairs who lived alone go to Marcasia last week to find his new love interest? There shouldn't be anyone up there at all!] I immediately pulled away from the doorknob. At that moment, an emergency notice popped up in the residential property chat. [Unit 1307 has a burst pipe with severe leakage. Property management will inspect the building's water system.] [Is anyone home in 1207? We need to check whether your ceiling is leaking. Please open the door.] Unit 1207 was my place. The comments flooded my vision again. [What kind of property management does inspections at one in the morning? They're in on it together!] [Bea, stay hidden! Your destined man will descend from the heavens to save you!] I nodded solemnly, as if I was taking them very seriously. I turned around and grabbed my climbing rope. Amid the hysterical screaming of the comments, I leapt straight off the balcony. I'm someone who got a second life. Last time around, my entire life was ruined by listening to these brain-dead comments. This time, I'd rather die from the fall than end up as a breeding machine again.