After Death Imagination Short Stories & System Novels

After completing my mission in conquering Audrey Hayes, I choose to stay behind in this other world for her. Before the system checks out, it warns me that I have burned through every single point to keep her alive. If I ever find myself in danger again, I won't have the points to bail me out. I don't care, mostly because Audrey has held my hand and given me her word. "I'm a doctor. No matter what happens to you down the road, I'll be the one to save you." But ten years later, my twin brother and I are caught in a car accident. When Audrey rushes onto the scene, she walks right past me as I lie bleeding out on the pavement, choosing instead to load my brother onto the ambulance for nothing more than a few superficial scrapes. "I know all about those weird abilities of yours!" she snaps. "You aren't going to die, but Owen might." Watching her leave, I close my eyes in absolute despair, only to hear the system's mechanical voice echo in my mind. "Host, your vital signs are dropping rapidly. In light of your exceptional past performance, a new option has been unlocked. If you can collect enough regret from your family, you'll be granted a chance to return to the real world. Do you accept this mission?"

During our return from the Frostfall Expedition, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart shoved me into a crevasse when I was caught off guard. Joshua Shaw pulled her into his arms to protect her, then turned around and yelled at me: "Linda, did you deliberately jump into the crevasse so you could frame Wendy for pushing you? "This expedition carries an important scientific mission. It isn’t a place for you to fight over a man!" A coppery sweetness rose in my throat, and the pain left me unable to speak. A short while later, a dull crack came from the ice beneath my feet, and my body suddenly dropped with it. Joshua became even more furious when he saw what happened: "Are you addicted to putting on an act now? If you like staying down there so much, stay there and come to your senses!" He even ordered the other team members to keep moving and forbade them from stopping to rescue me. However, he did not know that my right leg, trapped beneath the crevasse, had already been pierced by an ice spike. I could not move it at all. Worse still, my protective mask had shattered when I fell, and my body temperature was rapidly dropping. The system’s icy voice suddenly echoed in my mind. [Warning: The host’s life force is about to reach zero. Do you wish to leave this world permanently?] I watched Joshua protect Wendy Jones as they gradually disappeared into the distance. Then I closed my eyes and answered in my heart: "Yes!"

To support my wife, Natalie Strickland, in her work, I stayed behind in our first-floor apartment during the hurricane, caring for our son, Tyler, as he burned with a high fever. But as the director of the neighborhood committee, Natalie gave our family's last remaining life buoy to her childhood friend, Hayden Walker, on the tenth floor. When I confronted her about how unfair it was, she snapped at me over the phone. "Emerson, you're my husband. You should put the bigger picture first. Our family has to set an example. "Hayden's situation is different. He's raising his daughter alone, and she has asthma. Both professionally and personally, they have to be our priority." Once again, I let her convince me with her talk about the greater good. Then the floodwaters swallowed the first floor. Holding my barely breathing son in my arms, I frantically called the emergency command center. The dispatcher apologized before delivering the news, "Sir, Director Strickland listed Mr. Hayden Walker and his daughter in the first evacuation group. You and your son were assigned to the final group." I looked down at my son as the last traces of breath faded from his tiny body. My heart filled with despair. "System, I accept your offer to leave this world with my son." 'Natalie, Tyler and I will never need you to save us again.'

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.

On the final day of our graduation trip, an extreme heat wave struck without warning. I was unfortunate enough to suffer heat exhaustion, but my girlfriend, Claire Whitmore, gave all the electrolyte water to her male best friend, Alex Sterling. “You’re usually in good health, and you know first aid. Just drink some bottled water and take a break. “But Alex is different. He’s always been physically weak. If he doesn’t replenish his electrolytes, something could go wrong.” Too dizzy to argue, I had no choice but to ask the other members of our group for help. Instead, they rolled their eyes at me. “Daniel Hayes, there’s a limit to how jealous you can get.” “Claire is just taking extra care of someone who’s sick. You’re a grown man. Do you really have to act like you’re dying?” When the group continued ahead, Claire frowned at me sitting on the ground. “Do you really have to ruin everyone’s mood right now? “Fine. Stay here and think about what you’ve done. When you realize your mistake, catch up with us yourself.” What she didn’t know was that I had already begun showing symptoms of heatstroke. And she certainly didn’t know that the moment she left, a system notification echoed inside my mind. [Host’s life is in critical danger. Would you like to leave this world?] I calmly closed my eyes. “I accept.”

During summer break, I worked part-time at a bungee-jumping site, where my best friend deliberately hid behind me and cut my safety line. I scrambled out of the way, but my boyfriend hugged my sobbing best friend and accused me instead. "All I did was comfort Vivi a little when she got scared while bungee jumping. Did you really have to damage your own rope and frame her deliberately?" I stayed away from them to protect myself instead of trying to explain. Then a typhoon suddenly struck, leaving the bungee platform swaying dangerously. My boyfriend was in charge, yet he gave the only spare safety rope to Vivian, who had already retreated to safety. “You’re the safety officer, and you’re certified in high-angle rope rescue. A little wind can’t hurt you. "Vivi isn't trained for this. She's a visitor who's afraid of heights. I have to get her out first." When I said nothing, he snorted and locked the bungee platform's gate. "Are you really going to act jealous at a time like this? Fine. Stay here and cool your head in the wind!" He even evacuated the other staff members before leaving with my best friend, supposedly so I could reflect properly. What he didn't know was that my safety rope was already damaged and could not withstand such powerful winds. He had no idea that as soon as he left, the system’s cold notification echoed in my mind. [The target has abandoned you for the ninth time. Would you like to leave this world?] I watched his figure gradually disappear and calmly nodded. "Yes."

Yarden Stone had been cheating on me for three years, yet he had hidden the other woman so well that I could never catch him. Once, I found a lace choker in the back seat of his car. It still held someone’s body warmth. More than once, I had noticed fresh bite marks behind his ear. Every time, I would lose my mind. I would tear the house apart and demand to know who the woman was. Yarden would always frown wearily. “Lily, how long are you going to keep suspecting me of cheating? If you’re going to accuse me, then at least find the woman you claim I’m seeing.” I started following him around twenty-four hours a day. I even called all our friends and relatives and had them wait outside hotels and apartment buildings to catch him in the act. But every time we broke down a door, we found Yarden sitting on the couch in perfectly neat clothes. He always said, “Are you going to search this place?” When we left, my mom took my hand and sighed. “Lily, trust is the most important thing in a marriage. You cause a scene every day. What do you think that does to Yarden’s reputation?” Even my best friend tried to talk some sense into me. “You’re under too much stress. Maybe it’s all in your head.” But I remembered the lipstick that was still on Yarden Stone’s lips. He had not wiped it off completely. The color was so bright that it almost hurt my eyes.

To support Gavin Cooper’s work, I waited in our first-floor home with our son, who was burning with a high fever, while the hurricane raged outside. Yet as the head of the local emergency response team, he gave the last remaining life ring to his childhood sweetheart, Wendy Harper, on the tenth floor. When I voiced my dissatisfaction, he berated me over the phone. “Luna, you’re my wife. I can’t abuse my position for personal gain. I have to set an example. “But Wendy is different. She’s a widow raising a young daughter, so I have a responsibility to make sure they’re protected.” Once again, his argument about putting the greater good first won me over. That was until the floodwaters swallowed the first floor, and I hurriedly called the command center while holding my barely breathing son in my arms. The person on the other end apologized before informing me, “Ma’am, Mr. Cooper registered Miss Harper and her daughter as the first people to be evacuated. You and your son were placed in the final group.” As I watched my son slowly stop breathing, my heart turned to ash. “System, I accept your recommendation to leave this world with my son.” “Gavin, my son and I will never need you to save us again.”

While working a summer job at a water park, I was deliberately tripped by Kimmy Ames, my boyfriend Colin Mack’s childhood friend. I fell from an elevated platform. Colin cradled Kimmy, who was only pretending to be unconscious, and blamed me instead. “Some physical contact is unavoidable when I’m teaching her to swim. Are you really so jealous that you’d hurt yourself just to frame Kimmy?” I was in too much pain to offer any rebuttal. Then, the wave pool suddenly activated and swept me into the deep end. Colin was a lifeguard. He gave the only flotation device to Kimmy, who was taking swimming lessons in the shallows. “You have advanced lifeguard certification. A little water isn’t going to kill you, so get yourself out. Kimmy’s still traumatized by a drowning accident that happened when she was younger, so I have to keep her safe.” When I did not respond, he impatiently raised his megaphone. “You’re really going to keep putting on this attention-seeking act in front of everyone? Fine! Stay in there and cool off until you’re ready to behave.” To make sure I had time to reflect on my actions, he cleared everyone else out of the pool before walking away with his arm around Kimmy. He did not know that my arm was broken. I could not swim at all. He also did not know that at that very moment, a whirlpool was pulling me down with relentless force. I calmly closed my eyes and watched him leave. The system permitted him to abandon me only five times. This was the last.

It has been three years since I traveled back in time, but today, I stumbled upon a helicopter hidden right inside the manor’s yard. Looking down at my crippled leg, my husband, Ethan Miller, decided to finally drop the act. “Three years ago, you couldn’t accept the fact that I was marrying Vanessa and that you were just the mistress,” he said. “So, we had no choice but to trick you into believing you had traveled back in time, just to keep you locked up here. After serving as a maidservant and an unofficial mistress here for three years, I’d say you’ve finally learned your lesson.” I stared at him in disbelief. Suddenly, the steward standing beside him ripped off a mask, revealing himself to be my brother, Logan York. “Eva, now that Vanessa has safely given birth to her baby, you can finally go back,” Logan said carelessly. Then, he turned to someone else and added, “Hudson, your plan was absolutely flawless!” I slowly turned my head to look. The manor’s resident physician was standing there, smiling right at me. “You didn’t mistake my identity back then. I am your childhood friend, Hudson Jones,” he admitted. “We only set up this entire illusion because we were afraid you would hurt Vanessa.” For three long years, I believed I had traveled back in time. During this time, I was beaten, sold off, violated by countless strangers, and eventually bought by Ethan to be kept as a broken slave and mistress. By now, I had lost the use of my legs and was completely blind in one eye. I went from crying day and night, begging to go home, to living a numb, submissive existence. However, as it turned out, I had never traveled through time at all. The reality of it all made me break down. Just as I was about to end my life, an eerie line of text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [Congratulations to the tragic AI female protagonist for awakening. Countdown to reincarnating as a real human: Two days.] [Countdown: 48 hours.] [Countdown: 47 hours, 59 minutes, 59 seconds.]

I discover a helicopter in the estate three years after I'm transmigrated. My wife, Diana Snow, decides to drop the act after noticing my crippled legs. "Three years ago, you couldn't accept being my lover after I married Andrew," she says. "So, we trapped you here, tricking you into thinking that you had transmigrated. It seems that you've learned how to behave yourself after working as one of the household staff for three years." I have a hard time believing her words. The housekeeper of the estate tears her mask off and reveals her true identity—my sister, Beverly Graham. "Andrew's son is all grown up, so you can finally go home now, Connor," she says. "Your plan was absolutely flawless, Elise!" I slowly turn my head. The estate's doctor is smiling at me. "You were right the first time. I'm actually your childhood sweetheart, Elise Jefferson. I came up with this plan because I was worried that you would harass Andrew." I believe that I have been transmigrated for the past three years. I am beaten, trafficked, and tormented by countless people before Diana buys me and forces me to slave away in her estate. My legs are crippled, and I'm blind in one eye. In the beginning, I cry all day and all night about wanting to go home. Eventually, I become numb to my terrible life. It turns out that I didn't actually transmigrate. I suffer a complete mental breakdown. Seconds before I take my own life, strange words suddenly appear in my vision. "Congratulations to the male lead of this AI-written tragedy. Remaining time before you turn into a real person: Two days. "48:00:00. "47:59:59."

In the third year after my death, the one who remained faithfully by my wife's side was still the bionic robot I had painstakingly designed. It looked exactly like me and carried within it every detail of my mannerisms, speech, and habits. The only difference was that it never lost its temper with her. Because of that, my wife never sensed anything amiss. Yet each night, she brought home a different man, deliberately testing "me," desperate to see the wild jealousy and rage I once wore so vividly. Then, one day, her childhood sweetheart and first love, shoved "me" off the balcony. It was only then, in her horror, that my wife realized… "I" didn't bleed.

Natalie Brooke asked me to cook dumplings for her stepfather, Michael Sawyer. When the dumplings were knocked over and burned Michael's hand, she assumed that I was being disrespectful to an elder. So, she ordered the bodyguards to put me into a large pot, saying she would boil me until I was cooked as punishment. "Since you burned Michael, I will make you pay the price!" The water in the pot grew hotter, causing my whole body to be scalded red. All I could breathe was the scorching steam. I desperately pounded on the lid, but it had long been locked. I screamed in despair as I clawed the edges with all my strength. Blood overflowed from the pot and dripped onto the ground, but no one cared. Just before I succumbed to death, I summoned the system and yelled, "I want to go back! I refuse to save Natalie. I don't care if she becomes a vegetable!"

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

After my death, I found myself inside a romance strategy game, where the system assigned me three male leads. If I followed its instructions and successfully captured the heart of any one of them, I would return alive and well in the real world. Drawing on my experience, I crafted careful scripts to win their affection. Yet, every attempt ended in failure. The reason was simple: each of them had already fallen for the dazzling heroine of their world. They hurled cruel words at me, as if wishing I would just drop dead. In the end, I fulfilled their desire—when my strategies failed, the system erased me. But the moment I died, they all regretted it. One by one, they begged the heavens to return me to 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.”

I had always been obedient. Whatever people told me to do, I did. On the day the king and queen brought me back to the palace, my adopted brother leaned close and sneered, "How did it feel to spend three months as a gutter rat? If you have any sense, roll even farther away this time." I nodded, turned, and ran straight toward the edge of a towering cliff. My father and mother were terrified. They barely managed to drag me back, their faces drained of color. When my elder sister saw it, she grabbed my collar and said coldly, "Attention-seeking trash. If being crown prince embarrasses you this much, you might as well die." I said nothing. I grabbed a vial of poison and poured it down my throat. Blood burst from my mouth and nose. My sister froze on the spot, then scrambled out to call the physicians, looking at me like I was a monster. Not long after that, my adopted brother pretended to fall ill, and my sister held a knife to my throat, forcing me to donate blood for him. Before she could finish speaking, I followed the force of her blade and cut my own throat. The moment my parents pushed open the door, blood sprayed across their faces. The room went silent for one stunned instant before screams exploded everywhere. Amid the chaos, I weakly raised my head and looked at the transparent panel floating in the air. The number on it flickered again and again before stopping at 99. They did not know that as long as I obeyed one final time, I could complete the entire storyline for a cannon fodder character in a tragic novel. Then I could leave this world forever and return to my real home.

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.

In my eighth year married into the Cavell household, my wife brought home her first love. He was polished, good-looking, and knew exactly when to be bold and when to hold back. Despite the mountain of debt on his shoulders, his warmth and charm easily won over every last member of the family. My wife rekindled things with him and hung onto his every word. My own son and daughter decided that this kind, attentive man would make a better father than me. I was not heartbroken. If anything, I was glad. It meant that my storyline in this novel had finally run its course.

After I fail in my mission, I am about to be erased by the system and will disappear from this world completely. In the final 24 hours before I am erased, I agree to donate a kidney to my younger brother, Zachary Durham. My wife, Judith Sanford, hugs me excitedly and says she will not divorce me anymore. When Zachary plagiarizes my design, I take the blame and admit that I am the one who copied it. My parents nod in satisfaction, saying I have finally become sensible. Finally, I become the good husband and son they always wanted. But when they see my lifeless body sometime later, they all lose their minds.