Contos e Romances sobre After Death com Male POV

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.

I was reunited with my parents at the police station as the last of the rescued trafficking victims. My mother, Serena Hadley, clung to me, sobbing uncontrollably. My father, Vincent Kingsley, kept bowing to the officers. He was so grateful that he even tried to get on his knees just to thank them. My fiancée, Alina Prescott, gave me all the gifts she had saved for me over the years, telling me she had never forgotten me for a single day. At that very moment, everything I'd endured for 12 years just to find my way home all felt worth it. However, Cameron Kingsley, the orphan of my father's old friend whom he'd adopted, stood by the door with tears in his eyes just as we were about to depart. Serena immediately let go of me. Alina's gaze instinctively drifted toward Cameron, while Vincent hurried over to reassure him that they loved him more. I made an excuse to use the restroom, unable to bear the sudden change. Then, I overheard my parents talking. "Jasper is actually back. What are we going to do about his engagement to Alina? Cameron loves her so much. I can't stand the thought of seeing him hurt." "Then, Cameron can get engaged instead. Who knows what Jasper went through during all those years he was trafficked? After everything he's been through, he's no longer worthy of marrying Alina. Besides, we'll have plenty of time to make it up to Jasper later." I leaned against the wall, drained of all strength, and texted the friend who had been rescued with me. "I don't think I should've come back. Come get me. I want to leave." "Did you tell them you're dying of late-stage cancer?"

The day my attending physician gave me the critical illness notice, my wife Jane Hesler secretly mortgaged the house to the bank without telling me. The money she borrowed was not for my medical treatment, but was transferred to her first love, Anthony Shane — all because he said he needed funds for his business. I called her. "The house is for our daughter. You can't touch it." Her voice on the other end of the line was full of anger. "If you'd been able to come up with the money, would I have had to mortgage the house? Anthony's business needs funding; what's wrong with me contributing some money as a partner? Let me tell you something. I can live a thriving life without you." After hanging up, the doctor asked me with a grave expression, "Are you sure you don't want further treatment?” I nodded, putting on a bitter smile. "Yes."

My brother and I have a hunting accident. Artemis's curse strikes me.It incinerates my heart from the inside—I need an healing ritual. But my mother, the high priestess of Artemis's temple, summons every available healer… to my brother's chamber. He only has a few scratches, yet she orders a full ritual examination for him while I lie there hollow on the sacrificial stone. I beg her to help me, but she snaps, visibly annoyed, "Can't you stop vying for my attention for once? Your brother almost damaged a sacred bone!" In the end, I die on the altar. But after the news of my death spreads, my mother, who has always despised me, completely loses her mind.

My name is Adrian Hart. The day my sister Serena found me and brought me home, I thought I finally had a family again. I was wrong. In Serena's eyes, her adopted brother Evan mattered more than I ever would. When he was too scared to marry into a powerful family, I walked down the aisle for him. When he wanted out, I swallowed a fake-death pill and disappeared. Every time, Serena swore it was the last. The seventh time, she poured the pill down my throat herself. And that was the time I actually died. My soul stayed behind. I watched Serena stand over my body in the morgue and fail to recognize me until it was too late. And the cruelest part wasn't dying. It was knowing that, until my very last breath, my sister still wasn't on my side.

Three years after I died, my mother sent me twenty dollars for living expenses. Three years before that—the first time I ever asked my family for money—she said to me, offhand, "Sometimes I think you're just putting on an act. What's so unsanitary about a thirty-cent boxed meal? And why can't you wear a five-dollar down jacket? Face it, you're just more high-maintenance than your little brother." Later, when I needed twenty dollars to buy some cheap medicine for my stomachache, she blocked me immediately and cut off all contact—along with every relative we had. "Don't contact me anymore. I'm clearly not a good mother. I can't afford to give my son a life of luxury." But for my younger brother, who had just started high school, she spared no expense—renting him a three-bedroom apartment. Even the family dog got its own room. In the end, on the day my brother became the top scorer in the state, she finally remembered me. She took me off her block list and transferred twenty dollars. "It's only twenty dollars. Was it really worth giving your family the silent treatment for three whole years?" What she never knew was this— On the night my stomach ruptured, three years ago, I had already died. I couldn't afford to go to the hospital. I froze to death in the snow.

The night before our engagement, my fiancée, Yvonne Gomez, died. The police said her car had crashed through a guardrail and plunged into the river. All they found was a bloodstained watch. The entire Gomez family blamed me. "If she hadn't gone out to buy you a wedding ring, none of this would've happened!" "You're a living curse! Wasn't getting your parents killed enough? Now, you've killed your fiancée too!" Ernie Young, a junior she had gone to school with, played her final voice message as he cried. "Don't die for me. Go live a good life." I held her watch and kept vigil at the funeral home for three days. On the fourth morning, I put on the white suit she liked best and went to the river alone. Then, I downed a bottle of poison. "Yvonne, I'm coming to marry you." I had just climbed over the guardrail when cheers erupted under the bridge. Ernie ran up to me, clapping and laughing so hard that tears rolled down his face. "I won! I knew he would come! Yvonne, he fell for it! He was really going to jump into the river to keep you company!" The crowd parted, and Yvonne stepped out holding a bouquet of roses. Her white dress was spotless, and it hurt to even look at her. She turned to Ernie first, her voice indulgent. "Happy now? No more games after this." Ernie put an arm around her shoulders and asked smugly, "Don't I get some credit for testing how much he loves you?" "Of course." She smiled and nodded. "You liked the wedding ring I picked out, didn't you? You can borrow it for a week." Only then did she hand me the roses. "Surprised? Ernie was just upset. He felt like you were taking me away from him, so I went along with it this one time. You don't mind, do you? You've proved you love me. Now, we can go back and get married." I finally understood everything. The accident was fake. So was the recording. It was all a prank Ernie had come up with to appease himself. And Yvonne had personally allowed him to put my life on the game board as a bet. I shook my head as a sharp pain shot through my stomach. "It's fine… There's no going back…"

My parents suddenly told me that we were living in a novel. I was the frail and favored younger brother destined to get into college, marry my childhood sweetheart, and live an easy life. My older brother, Daniel Luther, on the other hand, was the expendable one. He was destined to fail his SAT and be beaten to death. My parents said that if they wanted to save him, they had to make sure he got into college. They did everything they could to help him, but he still failed his SAT. Meanwhile, I got into the same college as my childhood sweetheart, Priscilla Grimmie, through my own hard work. That night, my parents snatched my college acceptance letter and locked me in a cellar under the backyard. "Let your brother take your place and go to college first. You can retake your exams next year." My foot slipped, and I hit my head hard against a canning jar. Warm blood trickled down my neck. I shouted, "Mom, it hurts!" She didn't even turn around. "Caleb, stop it! Your brother is one step away from his dreams!" Their footsteps gradually faded. I slowly closed my eyes. The next time I opened my eyes, I was already floating in midair.

To help her childhood sweetheart, David Middleton, take my place studying abroad, my wife, Sharon Griffin, destroys my records and deliberately fills in false information, ensuring that I'm permanently denied a visa. She even severely injured my hands before sending me to the Behavioral Reform Center. My mother-in-law, Paula Brown, who has always treated me with affection, takes Sharon's side. "Kyle is so ungrateful. We gave him everything, and he still wanted to get a PhD abroad to find his biological parents. Who's going to take care of me if he's gone?" Sharon snorts. "He's just vain. When he found out I'd turned down Westbridge's offer of admission, he gave me the silent treatment and threatened to divorce me. If I let him go abroad, he'd think he could do whatever he wanted. "As my husband, he has everything he could ever need, yet he still wants to take David's opportunities away from him. Maybe the Behavioral Reform Center can teach him to appreciate what he has." A semester later, Sharon goes to the airport to pick up David, who's returning from his studies abroad. For the first time in a long while, she asks her assistant, Adam Norris, "It's been so long. Has Kyle learned his lesson? Tell him he can come home for the winter break." She doesn't know that I've already died on the very first day she sent me to that reform center.

Jocelyn Nicols was celebrated as the police department's genius detective. I'd spent ten quiet years at her side as her assistant, unnoticed by anyone. By her eighth year on the force, she still hadn't cracked the decade-old cold case that had haunted her career. "You know the rule," she told me. "I won't marry until this case is solved." I didn't say anything back. I just packed her bags for another out-of-town assignment and wished her a safe trip. What she didn't know was that the moment she finally cracked the case and became a household name across the country, I'd just received a notice from the hospital. It told me I was going to die.

My parents have always been biased against me, even as a child. They leave me in the countryside while raising my brother themselves. When I'm finally brought to live with them, they neglect me because they don't want my brother to be upset. When my brother says that I'm rude and falsely accuses me of getting people to assault him, my parents believe him without a shadow of doubt. And so, I'm sent to a residential treatment center. Under my parents' tacit permission and my brother's persuasion, the teachers at the center "educate" me inhumanely. In the end, I learn my lesson, as everyone wishes. I die while learning it, too.

The border crackdown finally comes to an end. The police finally capture the notorious Roxanne Thorne, who has made headlines across the country. In the interrogation room, Jordyn Croft sits across from her in a police uniform, repeatedly asking the same question. "Where is that traitor, Christopher Savile, hiding now?" Roxanne slowly raises her eyes, her slender fingertips gently rubbing the edge of her handcuffs. "That young cop? We tied him to a metal frame and took turns beating him. Then we injected him with highly concentrated drugs before using blunt weapons to smash his knees and ankles piece by piece. Finally, we chained him to the barbed-wire fence at the border." She licks her lips, as if savoring the memory. "By dawn, his body was already stiff." Jordyn stands up and slams the files onto the table. "You're lying! He was the one who leaked the information back then and got more than a dozen of our officers killed. He even covered your retreat through the back mountain. The surveillance footage captured everything clearly!" Roxanne suddenly bursts into laughter. Her handcuffs clang loudly against the table. She says, "Christopher never gave us a single useful piece of information until the end. Instead, it was a hostage he'd previously rescued from us who kept feeding us information. His only condition was that we take Christopher away and make everyone believe he was a traitor. "That way, he could conveniently take Christopher's wife for himself." The entire room falls silent. Just then, the interrogation room door flies open. Jordyn's newlywed husband, Milo Lumley, rushes in, his voice urgent. "Jordyn, did you catch the suspect? Did they tell you where Chris is?"

My brother and I get into a car accident. My heart is ruptured—I need emergency surgery. But my mother, the hospital director, calls every available doctor… to my brother's room. He only has a few scrapes, yet she orders a full-body scan for him while I lie there bleeding out. I beg her to help me, but she snaps, visibly annoyed, "Can't you stop fighting for attention for once? Your brother almost injured a bone!" In the end, I die on the operating table. But after the news of my death breaks, my mother, who has always hated me, completely loses her mind.

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.'

When I was eight years old, my younger brother, Evan Gunn, extracted my artificial heart's battery to charge his phone. By the time my parents, Ethan Gunn and Andrea Alston, found out, I was already blue in the face and on the verge of death. Even after my life was saved, I was left with severe complications. From that day onward, Evan became all but invisible in our parents' eyes. They no longer smile at him or talk to him, instead focusing all their attention on me. Dad travels abroad to work, all so he can cover my heart's monthly maintenance costs. Mom quits her job to watch over me around the clock. She becomes a vegetarian in the hopes of trading her sacrifice for a longer life for me. I think to myself that even though I wasn't born healthy, I at least have parents who love me. At least, until the power suddenly goes out on the day that Evan is filling out his digital college application form. Seeing as the submission deadline is fast approaching, Mom doesn't hesitate to extract my heart battery and power the computer with it. As my heart pressure drops rapidly and my heart beeps in warning, I try to stop her. "Mom, you can't. My heart's going to—" Mom slaps me harshly with tears in her eyes and yells, "Evan has suffered for ten years because of this damn battery! There are backup batteries around the house! Must you insist on using this one? "You've already ruined his childhood! Are you now going to ruin his future as well? How could you be so cruel?" She snatches my battery away and locks me in my bedroom. Finally, Evan successfully submits his application. As their excited cheers ring out from the living room, I collapse heavily onto the floor. My heart's shrill alarm falls silent. I murmur, "Mom, now I'll never burden you again…"

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."

On the eve of the SAT, the authorities notify me that I need to claim the body of my father, who has died tragically in prison. My mother comes to me and says she wants my father to take the blame for her first love, Joe Anderson, for a second time. "Where's your dad? Joe accidentally caused a patient's death during surgery. Ask Andrew to go to prison for him again. Consider these two prison terms as compensation for that slap he gave Joe last time. "After this, I'll return to the family and stay with you and your father." I don't even look up as I mumble absentmindedly, "Dad is dead." Mom lets out a scornful laugh and locks me inside a sauna room. Clenching her jaw, she presses the button on the remote control in her hand, turning the temperature up rapidly. Then, she sends an angry message to my dad to threaten him. She writes, "Andrew Miller, how dare you teach our son to lie to me? I'd like to see what kind of stunt you're trying to pull! If you don't want Chester to get hurt, show yourself right now!" My skin turns bright red due to the burst capillaries. I pound desperately on the door, trying to explain and beg for help. But Mom is busy comforting the frightened Joe and pays no attention to me at all. As my body becomes severely dehydrated, I let out a bitter laugh. I sneer inwardly, "Mom, Dad and I are making it up to your first love with our lives. Is that enough?"

In Ashport, it was no secret that my mom, Celia Gibson, had two families. When she was up in Northline, she stayed with Dad and me. When she was down in Southbank, she cared for the man who once saved her life and his son. Years ago, Arthur Poole stepped in and took a knife that should have struck her when the dock she was at exploded. From that moment, Celia lived as if her life belonged to him. Dad fought with her about it for over a decade. The wealthy in Ashport snickered behind his back, saying Liam Olson was her husband in name only. After all, Dad couldn't even get her to cut ties with her so-called savior. Then, Celia got pregnant with my little sister. Arthur called her, screaming that she had to choose between them. That very night, she went to the hospital and had an abortion. "Liam, we can always have another baby, but I can't just turn my back on Arthur and his son." The night we lost my little sister, Dad finally stopped fighting. He gathered me close and whispered, "Lucas, my son... I'm leaving. I'm going home." I'd known long ago that Dad wasn't from this world. He'd come here with a single mission: to have a son and a daughter with Celia. Only then would he earn the right to stay alive. Unfortunately, he'd failed. The countdown above his head kept ticking, stealing a little more time from him each day. I called Celia over and over, my voice breaking as I begged her to come home and see Dad. Alas, she was in Southbank, having a grand time with Arthur and his son. All I got was her cold, impatient response, "Hasn't your father caused enough drama all these years? Tell him to stop using his own life just to guilt me into choosing him." What she didn't know was that Dad meant it this time around. When his countdown finally hit zero, I cradled him as he drew his last breath. Then, I wiped my tears and called the hospital. From that day on, Dad was forever lost to me. And as far as I was concerned, I no longer had a mother, either.

After I was taken into the mountains, I became the whole town's slave. If one field remained unharvested or one family's firewood went uncut, they beat my face bloody. They avoided my arms and legs only because they expected twice as much work from me the next day. On New Year's Eve, I finally decided I couldn't survive another day and went to the river to end my life, only to hear two people whispering behind the trees. "Watch yourself. He is still the Hawthornes' biological son. They sent him to Red Willow Hollow to learn discipline, not for you to use however you want." "Biological son? His parents haven't asked about him in years. They already have another boy, the polished young heir who visited last time. The difference between them is night and day. "If anything happens, we'll blame him. Mrs. Hawthorne said that a boy without manners doesn't deserve to be her son. He may as well die out here." I stood frozen above the river, forgetting even why I had come. My mother always boasted that her family came from old money. She said a gentleman's most important quality was proper conduct. So why, after seeing my body, did she abandon every rule of dignity she had ever demanded from me?

My mother loved obedience tests. I told her I couldn't eat ginger, and she put it in every single meal. "Who's allergic to ginger? You're just being picky." For my eighteenth birthday she went out and bought half a ton of it, then made an all-ginger banquet and a bottle of homemade ginger perfume. She looked at me, pleased with herself. "Ginger cures everything. I'm doing this for your own good." "Only a spoiled kid refuses ginger. I minced it all up this time. Let's see you pick it out now." My mother was delighted. As far as she was concerned, the test had worked. What she didn't know was that I'd never lied to her. My ginger allergy was severe. Once I'd eaten or breathed in that much of it, the symptoms would build over the next two hours, and they could kill me.