Feel-Good Story Short Stories & Independence Transmigration Novels

Clayton Amos finally agrees to marry me during my fifth year as the antagonist of a novel. On the day of my wedding, the chandelier in the middle of the hall suddenly snaps and falls. At the most critical moment, he shoves me aside and runs over to protect Gladys Dawson, the protagonist of the novel, and his first love. Clayton's arm is slashed as a result, and blood pours out of the wound, dyeing his pristine white suit red. Meanwhile, Gladys remains unharmed in his arms. I hold a hand against the bleeding wound on my neck and finally accept the fact that Clayton never loved me. This is when the system appears and asks me, "Hailey Paltrow, would you like to abort your mission now?" I nod in silent response. "Since he's going to end up losing all four of his limbs and ultimately wish for death, I'll let him have it."

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 had been in a contract marriage with an incubus CEO for three years, in name only. The day I asked for a divorce, he agreed without emotion. But then floating comments suddenly flashed above his head. "That psycho. He already had the basement chains and little toys custom-made to the villainess' measurements, and he is still pretending to be a gentleman." "Girl, the second you sign, the next time you wake up, you are going to be way too close to the man you hate." "Here we go. The captivity arc is finally starting. This hate-love setup is insane. His true incubus form apparently has barbs too. The villainess did every bad thing in the book, so that blank stare is what she deserves..." "Girl, you are so stupid. If you had shown the second male lead even the tiniest bit of kindness these past few years, this lovesick lunatic would have dropped to his knees and worshipped you like a dog. Then he would not have twisted himself into this hate-filled monster..." My hand trembled around the pen. I looked at the expressionless man in front of me. "Actually... maybe we should not get divorced yet."