Male POV Imagination の短編小説 & Face Slapping 小説

After seven years together, Veronica Monroe canceled our wedding for the fifty-second time. A wall of comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [Here we go again. Don’t tell me the male lead is still thinking about getting back together with her!] My heart jolted. I couldn’t believe they actually knew. [If this were a normal person, he would’ve found someone else to marry by now!] [My blood pressure is through the roof. Go ask Veronica’s biggest rival if she’ll marry you!] Could I really do that? Uneasy and hesitant, I walked up to Veronica’s biggest rival, Meredith Rodgers, and quietly asked, “Would you marry me right now?” The entire room erupted. The guests all thought I’d lost my mind. But she simply curved her lips into a smile. “Of course I will.” [The male lead finally grew a backbone! Everyone, look!] [Oh my God, if Veronica finds out, she’s going to be furious!]

The last light had just turned off when Hank Liston queued up for his fifth ranked match. He turned on the volume, making sure the game music rocked the entire room. "Jungler!!! What are you doing, sleeping?! We need to jump this guy, you loser!" On the lower bed under me, Ben Singer, who had been holding back for a long while, rasped, "Can't you put your headphones on? I have an interview tomorrow." Hank simply snorted. "Interview? You can sleep the whole day, and you still won't make it in with that rubbish resume of yours. Don't try to blame your failures on me." Ben flushed beet red but didn't argue. Zac Kimmich, our other roommate, had his pillow covering his ears while he gripped the bed post so hard that it was creaking. Hank, however, kept ranting, "We're all in the same room! It's called mutual understanding—get it? I was there with you guys in class, but I can't spend time playing at night? Also, I'm not complaining even though I'm not sleeping, but you guys are sleeping and complaining?!" Suddenly, he turned to me as well. "And you, Carl. Don't try to play dead. You got a lot of money from that scholarship, didn't you? If you're that good, why don't you donate your sleep hours too?" [Roommate disturbance detected. Casting Polymorph. Progress: 1%] Well, since Hank couldn't behave like a proper human being, why not turn him into something else?

After I won a total of one million dollars from the lottery, I planned to spend four hundred thousand dollars paying off my wife Jocelyn's debts, then buy our son, Sean, the sports models and Lego set he had always wanted. But after waiting and waiting, the only thing I got was a call from my son. "Dad, there's an event at the kindergarten today, so go eat by yourself. Mommy and I will miss you!" I said nothing. Because just half a minute earlier, a screen of bullet comments had suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. "The supporting male lead is just so sad. He's working three jobs to pay off the female lead's debts, and even his stomach is bleeding due to pure exhaustion. Meanwhile, the female lead is out buying the male lead a gold watch!" "But if the supporting male lead doesn't work himself to death, how are the male lead and female lead supposed to end up together?" At first, I did not believe those comments. But just then, my phone buzzed, and a credit card charge alert came in. My stomach dropped. I never would have thought the wife who always seemed to love me so deeply and the son I had worked so hard to raise would lie to me like this. In that case, my ten million lottery winnings had nothing to do with them anymore.

After landing in three different wish-fulfillment novels, I pretty much lived life on easy mode. Then I opened my eyes again and found myself playing the long-suffering male lead in a tragic romance. I seriously considered banging my head against the wall to see if that would knock me into another book. Before I could try, the original Joel Johnson's memories flooded my mind. His father ran the criminal underworld. His mother was worth billions. And his childhood sweetheart was gorgeous, rich, and completely in love with him. With all that going for him, the guy still chose to chase the most toxic woman he could find. For all his trouble, he ended up dead, and his rival even fed his remains to stray dogs. He deserved a better ending than that. I stepped back from the wall just as a text arrived from the man responsible. He even attached a photo of himself in bed with Fiona Casey, the two of them looking awfully cozy. [Fiona drank a little too much, so she's spending the night at my place. Don't worry. I'll take good care of her.] Perfect. He gave me the names, the time, and the location, all without me having to ask. I immediately contacted every major entertainment news outlet I could find. [I've got a scoop for you. A no-name actor is spending the night with a wealthy CEO. Apparently, they're 'going over a !']

When I am choosing who to be my fiancée, comments pop up before my eyes. "Skylar, do not choose Gwen Moore! She is a daddy's girl. If you marry her, her father will make your life miserable." "Choose Laura Colson. She may be an illegitimate daughter now and not valued, but she will rise to power and become the head of the Colson family!" In my previous life, I believe the comments and choose Laura. After the marriage, she abuses me. I end up in the hospital again and again. Once, I cannot endure it anymore and escape back home. Brandon Stone, the illegitimate son who marries Gwen in my place, stands beside my father and berates me openly. "Skylar, why do you always upset Laura? You are so immature! Do you not know how powerful the Colson family is now?" My father looks displeased as well. "Why do you keep coming back when you're already married? Send him back!" In the end, Laura beats me to death after I am sent back to the Colson residence. After being reborn, I see those fake comments again. This time, I will not just sit around and await my impending doom.

On New Year's Eve, my cousin and I went to the supermarket to stock up for the holiday when a cold wave hit out of nowhere. The temperature plummeted dozens of degrees, and the world plunged into an ice-cold apocalypse. In the blink of an eye, people froze solid into ice sculptures. I scrambled to grab winter coats and whatever supplies I could, but my cousin just sat there playing video games. He even posted his pentakill on social media to brag about it. I went through hell to snag him a down jacket, and he still insisted he was not afraid of the cold. "I'm a real man. You think a little cold scares me?" He refused to eat the compressed biscuits. He even used our scarce bottled water to wash his limited-edition sneakers, then threw a fit demanding freshly pan-seared steak. "It's called having standards, look it up. Even if I die, I'm dying tough and with style!" I scoffed. Since he wanted to die tough, he could go right ahead and freeze into an ice sculpture. Ice sculptures were plenty tough.

During the freshman orientation, Fletcher Stone, the campus heartthrob, leads a protest in front of the orientation leader, Lindsey Quinn. As a result, Lindsey decides to make everyone run laps around the field. While Fletcher has volunteered to run everyone's laps on his own, the truth is, he has transferred the fatigue to me. He finishes his 30-mile run without a shift in his expression. After that, he tells Lindsey that he's willing to take on everyone's orientation training on his own. Because of that, everyone becomes Fletcher's fans. I, on the other hand, keep getting admitted into the infirmary because of exhaustion, which results in me being late to the orientation. My tardiness ends up affecting our class' chances of receiving a good rank. I get berated by the entire class as a result. When I try to explain my condition to everyone, they all look at me as though I were crazy. "You've barely attended the orientation for a few days, so how is it possible for you to be this exhausted? I think you're just pretending to be exhausted!" "Are you jealous of Fletcher because he's way fitter and more handsome than you? Now, he's even more popular than you!" Driven by despair, I demand answers from Fletcher. But he just changes into his uniform nonchalantly. "Please step out of my way. I need to go on a weighted cross-country run as the college's representative, so I have no time to fool around with you." Once Fletcher is done with the run in the 104-degree weather, his expression remains cool and collected. But I'm so exhausted that I suffer from organ failure, leading to my immediate death. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the first day of the freshman orientation. This time, I decide to take the initiative to report to Lindsey. "I'll take on the punishment for the entire class."

Five minutes before the graduate admission exam began, the campus heartthrob quietly slipped a crumpled piece of paper into my pencil case. Lines of floating text drifted across my vision. [The paper is filled with answers. The school heartthrob has reported it, and the proctor will be here any second!] [As long as they find it, his admission slot will be canceled immediately!] [Serves this bookworm right for standing in our heartthrob’s way. The proctor is his aunt. He’s doomed today!] The next second, the proctor stormed into the classroom and headed straight for my seat. “Someone has reported you for cheating,” she said sharply. “Empty your pencil case. We’re checking it.” Without a word, I turned the case upside down. A few pens fell onto the desk, but there was no paper. The campus heartthrob’s eyes widened in disbelief. “How is that possible? I–” Before he could finish, a slip of paper covered in answers slid out of his own pocket and dropped onto the floor. What they didn’t know was that I was born with a weird power called “Misfortune Rebound.” Anyone who tried to harm me would end up suffering the consequences themselves.

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."

It was the apocalypse. A zombie apocalypse. We should've been running for our lives, but my girlfriend, Yvonne Brown, refused to. She wanted to buy as much time as she could for her incompetent childhood friend, Yves Claude, to hop into the last helicopter that would take survivors away. But the retreat was our group's only way to survive in this apocalypse. Yves was not showing up anytime soon. I had no choice but to knock her out and drag her into the chopper. And Yves, the one she could never seem to forget, died in the swarm of undead. I, however, survived thanks to what I did. Yvonne and I lived happily in a safe zone. And then that fateful day came. I was going to take over the territory and lead humanity on an attack against the zombies. The night before that decisive strike, Yvonne spiked my water with anesthetics. When I was caught helpless, she tossed me into the horde of zombies. The swarm of undead tore my flesh open, and the pain killed me. Yvonne? She stood on the wall coldly, a sneer decorating her lips. "Yves could've lived, but you took that chance away from him! You selfish monster, you killed Yves! I will make you suffer what he suffered! You'll pay for it with your life!" Death took me, but it tossed me all the way back to the day of the retreat. The day Yvonne adamantly insisted on waiting for Yves. Well, if she was so happy to live through a world like this with her friend, who am I to say no? I would grant her that wish, even if she would end up as zombie food.

After failing my 99th target-conquest mission, I stand in the rain, drenched in hopelessness. "Mission failed. Punishment—death." Those four words have haunted me for five whole years. For the first three years, I've pushed my conquest progress to 99%. Everything changed when Aurora Lowe's first love, Joe Bannerman, returned from abroad. Now, my conquest progress has plunged back to 30%. I'm so done. I've searched for her grandmother's keepsake in the pouring rain, only to find Aurora tending to his twisted ankle in the hospital. Honestly, I've made peace with the thought of death at this point. "System, I quit my mission," I mutter calmly. A new message appears on the system interface. "Mission abandoned. Conquest progress will decrease by 1% each day. Once it reaches 0%, the mission will be deemed a failure. Failure penalty—execution of target." I freeze. Hold on, wait a second—who's being executed here?

My best friend, Mason Lodge, and I transmigrate into a novel together. On top of that, we even marry into the same wealthy family, known as the Grants. Unfortunately, Stella and Tanya Grant's mutual first love, Eric Stewart, returns to the country on the day after our transmigration. Everyone keeps advising us to just get our checks and dump the sisters. But Mason and I just glance at each other with smiles on our faces. "Are things really that bad overseas to the point that he comes running back to the country as soon as he hears about the Grant sisters' marriages?" "Just listen to how sickly sweet his voice is! Isn't he worried that he might contract diabetes for real?" As soon as our words fall, I see Stella looking at me in disgust. Meanwhile, Tanya glares at Mason angrily. Honestly speaking, there's no way a pretentious bastard like Eric can ever win against Mason and me, who are known for seeing through all the facades that a typical pretentious bastard can ever put on.

On the first day of college, I became Bellingham University's most infamous 'serial dumpee'. Whether it was the graceful upperclassman or the cold, stunning campus queen, every girl who went on a single date with me would, without fail, leave me for my roommate Blake Ramsey by the very next day. Blake rocketed to the top as every girl's golden boy. He juggled his growing roster of admirers like a pro. Every day, he shoved another stack of curated dating profiles into my hands. "Buddy, don't let one bad apple scare you off. The next one will be even sweeter. You have to keep chasing true love!" I believed him and set my sights on an adorable freshman, but she broke up with me without a second thought to be with Blake. Just as despair was about to swallow me whole, a stream of floating comments appeared before my eyes. [The male lead is incredible. He's stolen so many women! I've always hated that so-called villain. Some poor kid from the countryside, and he thinks all these women would fall for him?] [I wish I had the male lead's Affection Transfer System. Then my ex-girlfriend wouldn't have been snatched away by that guy!] [I can't wait to see who the next female lead is. I'm just sitting here waiting for the male lead to steal her too!] So that was it. This whole time, I had been doing the grunt work for someone else's harem for free!

For a $5 million research stipend, I agreed to let the System install an empathic link inside my body. "Subject. Are you sure you want to proceed? Once installed, the procedure cannot be reversed. This is a prototype. Side effects are not fully characterized." I looked at the sidewalk-stall clothes my girlfriend Cara Lake had bought herself, and the drugstore-grade makeup on her vanity. I nodded. That night, while she was out at her bar job. A current came up out of nowhere inside me. My whole body lit up with a sickening pleasure that did not belong to me. Seven times. A few days later I waited near the club where she worked. I overheard her with her friends. "Cara. You're something else. Pouring La Prairie into a plastic bag and using it like that? Faking poor like a champion. Doesn't Adam ever notice?" "Notice? He's stupid. He'll believe anything I say. His father got hit by a car, lay in bed without the money for treatment, died alone. I told Adam I couldn't help. He stayed up all night comforting me. I almost died laughing." The laughter went into me like a knife. I got out of there. The tears came on the walk home. I picked up the phone. "Professor. I'll go to the classified institute. I'll go now."

My friend and I transmigrated into a melodramatic novel about a wealthy family. When the mission ended, I chose to leave. He fell for the obsessive female lead and chose to stay with her. Eight years later, the system told me that she had locked him in a mental hospital, and he had only three days left to live. When I rushed to him, he was tied to the bed. His eyes were dull, and he kept repeating my name. His crush, Sterling Group's CEO, was planning a grand wedding with the man she truly loved. I looked at my friend’s hands. They had once played the piano with grace. This time, they were covered in countless needle marks. “You came, I knew you would...” He mustered the last of his strength to look at me. “I was a fool. I thought staying by her side was the truest form of my love for her. “I never realized I was only a stepping stone in her path. “Take me home. I don’t want to die here...”

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."

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.

A heatwave swept across the surface of the Earth right after the end of boot camp. Temperatures rose to 200 degrees Fahrenheit, and all electronic items stopped functioning. Even our water source had all dried up. I was lucky that I never liked the taste of water in college, and I always had five boxes of bottled water standing by in my hostel room. If I rationed my water, I could sustain myself until help arrived, but our instructor suddenly requested everyone to hand in their water to be managed by one person. "We're a group, and it's only by working together that we will be able to sustain ourselves until help arrives! Whoever doesn't hand in their bottled water will be considered the common enemy!" I had no choice but to hand in all the water I had. However, the instructor was not fair with his water rationing. He would give the women one bottle a day, while I only had one bottle cap's worth of water. "You're a man, aren't you? It doesn't matter if you have less water. Do you really want to fight the fairer sex for a little water? The ladies should be pampered like princesses. Can't a man like you bear some responsibility to take care of them?" I wanted to argue with him, but my girlfriend, who was also my childhood sweetheart, helped the instructor tie me up and flung me under the sun to be burned to death. When I opened my eyes next, I had returned to the day before the heatwave. This time, I moved all of my water into a cave and watched gleefully as that lecherous instructor got thrown under the sun by his pampered female trainees to be burned.

I had special luck that would cause others to lose their money. If anyone tried to scam my money from me, they would suffer financial loss. When I was in elementary school, a female classmate stole five dollars from me to buy a snack. The next day, her father suffered a fifty-thousand-dollar loss in his business deal. When I was in high school, my homeroom teacher withheld my prize money. The next day, his wife got into a pyramid scheme, and he lost his house because of it. After I started working, I encountered my extremely snobbish boss, Fiona Anderson. I submitted a claim for five thousand dollars, which I had paid in advance for a company event. However, she refused to approve the claim for three months. As for the rich intern who drove a luxury car, she would immediately approve his claims with a huge smile on her face, even though he would submit fake receipts. I urgently needed to pay my credit card bill, so I went to talk to her. Fiona pointed at me and snorted. “Poor men like you always try to covet the company’s money! “How dare you ask me for money? You must be out of your mind!”

When my wife, Anna Smith, and I went back to her hometown for the New Year’s, her male best friend, Liam Reid, barged into our bedroom. Late at night, he suddenly unbuttoned his top and exposed his bare chest. “Anna, my imaginary bosom hurts. Please massage them to make me feel better!” Anna wanted to massage his chest when I flipped the tumbler over next to our bed in frustration. Anna’s face immediately fell. She glared at me in hatred as she roared, “He’s experiencing a psychological issue due to hormonal imbalance. Do you even know science? Why is your mind in the gutter?” Liam pretended to cry as he sobbed, “Sawyer, don’t blame Anna. We’re best friends, and we’re basically sisters. “It’s my fault. If I had been born with a real bosom, I’d definitely stay away from Anna.” I looked at his fake demeanor and smirked. I did not tell them that I had obtained a wish stone, and that it allowed me to change one bodily structure. Since Liam desperately wanted to be a woman, I would make his wish come true by giving him a huge bosom. He could massage them however he wanted.