Cerita Pendek Plot Twists Imagination & Novel Male POV Face Slapping

At my daughter’s graduation party, the laptop I gave her turned out to be the same model as the one my ex-wife's boyfriend gave her. She slammed the computer I bought violently onto the ground, smashing it to pieces. "You obviously knew Chad was going to give me this, yet you bought the same one. You just want to make Chad look bad!" My daughter screamed hysterically at me, while my ex-wife flashed a malicious smile. Half a month later, my daughter secretly drugged me during dinner. When I woke up, I found myself smuggled across the border, trapped inside a cold iron cage. On stage, the auctioneer announced, "Today, we're auctioning off every single organ from this man's body. Highest bidder wins!" Meanwhile, my daughter sat down below the stage, her gaze filled with venomous hatred. "Connor, since you love buying identical things just to steal everyone else's spotlight, today, we'll let you steal the spotlight to your heart's content! "Let's see which of your organs you actually have the power to save on your poor worker's salary!" As my heart turned to stone, I silently awakened the system that I had neglected for many years. [Ding—Host has successfully activated the Damage Transfer System.]

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..."

An overpass in Winfeld that's still under construction ends up collapsing, leading to the deaths of many. Family members of the victims are up in arms, demanding that the person in charge pay the price for the incident. As the quality assurance inspector, I'm brought to court. However, I am just an intern. The real perpetrators are out clinking glasses, celebrating a clean getaway and the fact that they have a new scapegoat. Out of nowhere, the court introduces a new trial system that involves the extraction of memories directly from one's mind. In the middle of this major incident, a terrifying truth emerges. Everything goes all the way back to my university days…

Bad news: I'm dead. Good news: I transmigrated into a novel. Bad news: I end up in a peasant woman's womb, and I'm about to be born as a fake heir. Good news: My little sister, claiming that it's better to be safe than sorry because the novel's main character shares my name, has forced me to read this novel cover to cover. I already know that once the real heir, Isaac Reed, comes home, he'll use our parents' guilt toward him to set me up. He'll frame me at a family acknowledgment banquet, making it look like I've taken liberties with the family's precious only daughter, Kiana Reed. My adoptive parents will be so furious that they'll disown me and kick me out of the house. In the end, I'll die miserably in an alley on a rainy night. So, the year I turn five, I empty out my savings to hire a young beggar to show up at our door, claiming he's the real heir. When I'm eight, the second beggar enters the stage. When I'm ten, the third one arrives. By the time I'm 15, the manor is packed with eight so-called real heirs. These people in ancient times don't know that their supposedly reliable methods of testing kinship can be tampered with. All they know is that all eight boys seem to share blood ties with my adoptive parents, the Marquis and Marchioness of Eterna. I play it off as a miracle from the heavens. Then, when I'm 16, the real heir returns.

I understood babies. The baby in Room 403 cried out, "My butt itches! It is not a stomachache!" A newborn in the ER screamed, "Something is stuck under my belly button!" A preemie babbled softly, "I want my mommy..." None of that prepared me for that day. Dr. Margot Aldrich, the country's foremost authority in pediatrics, stood before a packed auditorium and examined a baby who had screamed himself purple. "We will keep observing." The mother fell to her knees. "Please, my baby is dying..." Margot let out a short laugh. "Am I the expert here, or are you?" The room went silent. In my ears, a tiny voice raged. "Are you grown-ups blind? Something is stuck under my belly button! It is not a stomachache! Somebody cut me open already!" I did not stop to think. I pushed through the crowd, dropped beside the crib, and looked Margot in the eye. "Dr. Aldrich, let me try."

Father is a seven-tailed white fox, and Mother is a five-tailed flame fox. By all logic, with those two rolling the genetic dice, the worst child they could get should be a six-tailed fox. But Mother has given birth nine times, and each baby is a single-tailed earth fox. The two of them think their cultivation simply isn't strong enough, so they train even harder. The truth is, every child Mother has given birth to is a nine-tailed fox. It's just that Father's subordinate, Oscar Brown, switches them at birth and strangles them to death. I'm the unlucky idiot who's died nine times. By the tenth time, I cry and scream that I'm done. The Heavenly Way is so sick of me kicking up a fuss that they say they'll help me solve the problem. I expect them to just strike Oscar and those fox cubs with divine lightning. Instead, they grant Father the ability to perfectly comprehend baby language. When I open my eyes again, Mother is crying to Father while holding a scrawny, dark-furred earth fox. "Darling, it's all my fault. Our child only has one tail again." Meanwhile, Oscar has hidden me in his sleeve. He's about to take me away to be disposed of. In my panic, I shout in my mind, [Father, save me! Your subordinate switched me! I'm in his sleeve!] Father, who is gently comforting Mother, freezes. He looks toward Oscar, who looks shifty, and says, "Stop right there. What's that in your sleeve?"

I am a real estate agent. For the past three years, I have been the top seller in the industry. It is not because I am a smooth talker; it is because I can hear houses speak. The houses will chatter about a hollow wall, a leaking pipe, or a window with a bad seal. During move-out inspections, I point out exactly what tenants try to hide. When showing a place to renters, I warn them about hidden red flags. I have been doing this so long that both sides treat me like family. Then, one Friday, a regular client, Eleanor Wilson, shows up. "Devan, the tenants at the Eastmere place are moving out." Eleanor is in her 60s. Her husband is long gone, and she lives off the rental income. She is a sweet soul. She charges 20% below market rate and even makes cookies for her tenants during the holidays. The couple moving out this time is Henry Johnson and his wife. They run a fruit stand at the local market and have a six-year-old daughter, Lea Johnson. "Lea is missing," Eleanor says, her eyes welling with tears. "She vanished outside the market last month. Just like that, in the blink of an eye. Henry and his wife have been searching for a month. They're worn out and broke. They just can't take it anymore." A heaviness settles in my chest at her words. I grab the keys and head out with her. Eleanor gasps for air with every flight of stairs we climb. I walk ahead of her. The moment I slide the key into the lock of Apartment 602, the doorknob vibrates violently against my palm. A second later, I dial 911. "I want to report a case of murder. There's a hidden body on the sixth floor of 18 Montclair Heights, Eastmere. The victim is their daughter."

I'm a man of principle who doesn't curse someone else without good reason. Even if I do curse them, the curse is only active for three days. In elementary school, my seatmate steals my eraser. When I flippantly tell him that he'll slip and fall in the next three days, he falls into a cesspool on the third day. The class representative accuses me of cheating during an exam during middle school. When I say that the entire school will learn something humiliating about him in the next three days, his love letter to another female student is pasted on the notice board. A bully kicks my desk during high school. When I tell him that his family will fall to ruins in the next three days, his father is arrested for embezzlement on the third day. When my boss, Frank Gordon, refuses to pay me after forcing me to work overtime, I calmly say, "You'll become bankrupt in the next three days." Frank scoffs indignantly before he grabs my resignation letter and tears it to pieces. "Get out of my sight! Either you continue working, or you can kiss your salary for this month goodbye!" He scatters the shredded paper over my head and continues, "I'm curious to see what will happen in the next three days. Will my company fall? Or will you starve to death first?" I lick my lips and say, "You must pay me within the next three days, Mr. Gordon—" However, Frank kicks me out of his office before I can finish my sentence.

The altered invaded after civilization collapsed. I awakened no ability at all. My body was weaker than an ordinary person's, yet the director of the Federal Anomaly Command personally invited me into Meridian Bastion's SSS-level sanctuary in the Blackridge Exclusion Zone. Because I was the world's only "Reality Anchor". As long as my emotions stayed stable, the dimensional breach above the city wouldn't collapse, and millions of altered creatures couldn't cross into our world. Everyone treated me like something sacred and avoided giving me even the slightest shock. Then one day, a newly awakened S-class destruction operative kicked through the sanctuary's ballistic glass and crushed my limited-edition Nova-9 figure beneath his boot. "The soldiers outside are bleeding to hold back the altered, and command is spending public resources to pamper a useless man who can't even fire a rifle. What makes you worth it?"

Ever since I accidentally found out that Nicole Smith was planning to propose to me during our graduation trip, I'd been counting down the days with excitement. But before that dream could come true, I got separated from the group and ended up stranded deep in the mountains. Just when I thought I was out of options, a man wrapped from head to toe stepped out of the woods. His voice was hoarse as he spoke. "Ethan Carter, come with me. I know the way out. "But when Nicole proposes to you... you have to say no." I stared at him warily and instinctively took a few steps back. When he realized words weren't enough, he let out a long breath. Then, he removed his mask, and peeled off the heavy cloak covering his body. Standing before me was a man with my face. Only... he looked like he'd been through hell. His face was lined with deep wrinkles, his exhausted eyes carried decades of despair, and his emaciated body was covered in bruises, knife scars, and the jagged marks of old stitches. His calloused hand gripped mine tightly. In his eyes were hope, desperation... and absolute resolve. "I'm you, twenty years from now. "Nicole did this to me. "If you don't want to end up like this... then do as I say, right now."

I had died for a year and was pushed to cross the River of Souls 99,999 times, but I could not do so as no one had given me a proper burial. The netherworld forced me to return to the mortal world for 48 hours to find someone to bury me, or my soul would vanish after 48 hours. They even started a livestream to make some income for themselves. On the first day of my return, my ex-girlfriend and the real heir of the family who hated me were about to get married. Netizens predicted that I would be malicious enough to crash the wedding for revenge, but all I did was sit in a small restaurant and order myself a delicious burger. While waiting for my food, the first sentence I said to the camera was, "I will vanish completely from this world after 48 hours."

Whitney Lund throws me out of the base on the day my ability test results come out. "You were tested three times, and all three results show that you're a non-ability user, Maverick." Raven Lincoln, her second-in-command, stands nearby with a look of disdain. "Whitney has kept you around for three years even though you're just an ordinary person. She's done more than enough for you. You've already received the expulsion order from the base, so get out of here and stop being an eyesore." I grip the expulsion order tightly, a lump forming in my throat. I've spent three years following Whitney, and just last month, I nearly died in a mutant rat horde just to gain enough points for her S-rank protective gear. She held my hand back then and said, "I'll protect you for the rest of my life once I become the strongest ability user, Maverick!" It turns out that everything I've gone through and risked my life over for the past three years means nothing to her. I'm nothing more than a resource dispenser to her. One year later, the base's founding anniversary celebration is held. Whitney walks onto the stage to accept the Apex Hunter Award, but as soon as she sees the person presenting the award, her composure instantly shatters.

I was diagnosed with stage-two stomach cancer. A lie from my wife had caused me to miss the best window for treatment. “You’re saying I was diagnosed with early-stage cancer six months ago, and my wife knew about it?” The doctor pulled up my old test results and turned the monitor toward me. “We repeatedly told your wife that early-stage cancer has a very high cure rate. One of our physician assistants even called to follow up. She told us you’d already started treatment at another hospital.” I felt as though the ground had vanished beneath my feet. Six months ago, my wife had assured me that my physical exam showed nothing wrong. The doctor looked at me sympathetically. “Fortunately, it hasn’t progressed to the final stage yet. With aggressive treatment, you still have a chance.” I stumbled out of the hospital in a daze. Then I suddenly remembered the strange charm I’d stumbled upon by chance. Could cancer be transferred, too?

I was attending my daughter Wendy's autumn camp when I overheard her whispering to her best friend, "Don't be picky with your food, or Ms. Adams will kill you. That's why she killed Carl." Shocked, I scooped her up in my arms and ran to Carl's mother. However, she pointed at a healthy Carl who was hopping around, grinning, "What? But Carl is no longer a fussy eater. He eats everything I cook these days!" Relieved, I was about to turn and scold my daughter when she hissed, "That's not Carl! Carl is allergic to shrimp!"

My buddy, Adam Page, calls me and says that his mom is hospitalized, and he can't rush back in time. He asks me to submit his competition entry that is due tonight. We're both in the competition, but I have already submitted my entry. I'm just about to say yes to helping him when my mouse suddenly jerks. "Don't you dare click it! If you submit his entry for him, you'll lose your first-place prize and the 20,000 dollars prize money! He'll even go on livestream and accuse you of stealing his work, saying that you cost him the prize money and caused his mom to die because she couldn't afford treatment. You'll be torn apart by online bullying, saddled with a huge debt, and end up losing everything!" My hands shake, and I immediately stop what I'm doing. My mouse jerks again. I close the page, create a group chat on WhatsApp, and add the advisor, Colby Jackman, and the teacher, Irene Dawson, who is in charge of the project.

Legend had it that Shaffer Mansion was haunted. Only I knew the stories were true, because I was born with the ability to see through paranormal illusions. When a reality show moved its production crew into the mansion, the only thing anyone noticed was a little boy in overalls. He looked innocent and harmless, but he was actually a puppet controlled by the demon lurking inside the mansion. Behind that innocent face was the most dangerous presence in the entire house. The first time I'd lived through this nightmare, I'd done everything I could to protect the girls I'd grown up with. I'd warned them to stay away from the boy and throw away every gift he gave them. Instead of listening, they had thought I was jealous of the child and accused me of bullying him. Eventually, the boy had left behind a letter claiming he couldn't take my abuse anymore and threw himself from the roof. When the filming had wrapped up, all of them had walked out of Shaffer Mansion alive. But then, they had joined forces with their fans, destroyed my reputation, and eventually dragged me back to the mansion. They had pushed me from the same building and watched me fall to my death. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in time. This time around, I was quitting the show and letting them deal with the consequences of their own choices.

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."