Contos e Romances sobre Reborn com Male POV

I made the decision to break up with Layla Freeman as I opened my eyes once more. She wanted to take Charles Jones and his son home so she could take care of them, so I would logically leave. I had a lot of arguments with Layla in my former life because of Charles and his son. She paid for Charles’ son’s wedding using the money I had saved for my retirement. Ultimately, the bitter cold killed me in the winter. When Layla found out about that, she was not filled with sadness. Rather, she accused me of dying on her godson’s wedding day. I would leave her and not have anything to do with her in this life.

In my previous life, my girlfriend's childhood friend impersonated a rich heir and messed around with the fake power he had. I exposed him, and he crashed his car into me. In my final moments, my girlfriend's sister begged on her knees, pleading for my girlfriend's aid, hoping she could save me, but my girlfriend did nothing. "He wouldn't do that. Zacharias is beyond this. He would never dirty his hands for a nobody like this guy. He might be my boyfriend, but that doesn't mean he can do anything he wants. He'd better know his place." My girlfriend's sister remained on the ground for three days. In the end, Zacharias dragged her away, violated her, and killed her. Even at my dying breath, my girlfriend was still covering up for her childhood friend. She refused to believe Zacharias hit someone with a car and violated her sister. And then I was reborn. This time, I did not beg and plead for my girlfriend to give me a moment of her time. I called my brother instead. "Hey? Yeah, it's me. Some bastard impersonated me and is dragging my name through the mud. I need you to take that guy out. Also, I'm not marrying Annabelle Lawson. I'm taking her sister instead." I gave the Lawsons a lot of resources so they could grow, and what did I get in the end? An ungrateful woman who would leave me stranded and dying all for another man. With all their resources pulled, Annabelle and her childhood friend would be saying goodbye to their good old days and hello to their personal hell.

It was midnight, and I was out at my stall when the cops took me to the station. They checked my profile and looked at me weirdly. "You're a Greatpeak graduate. What are you doing setting up shop in a bazaar?" That was odd. I went through the profile and realized that yes, while the student's ID was mine, the photo was not. I knew the guy in the photo. Josiah Ferguson. I had no idea I got accepted into Greatpeak University twenty years ago. Eventually, I was released, but I had no idea how I trudged back home. Then, I heard Hazel Quinley, my wife, talking to someone on the phone. "I won't let Michael get in your way, Josiah. Just go abroad." So that's it! It was her! My wife helped Josiah take what was supposed to be mine! I was sick. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to confront her and Josiah, but then she stabbed me in the back, and I died. "I'm sorry, Michael. I can't let you ruin Josiah's future." And then I woke up. I was taken back in time to my high school days. Our homeroom was giving out college application forms. This time, things would be different. This time, I would take back what was rightfully mine!

My car was passing by the entrance of the office when I saw both my sisters 'wrestling' vigorously with a bum. I wasn't surprised, however, even recording a video of it and sending it to the biggest news outlet of the country, saying, "I want it seen across the world before 7pm." After all, in my last life, those two sisters were so keen to please Harold Langford that they allowed him to steal my birthright all he wanted. I bore with it because they were family, and ended up resting in pieces. But now that I had a second chance, I would return the favor. At the company gala, Harold once again took my seat as he snorted at me haughtily. "Hmph! If Ellie and Jennie didn't insist on showing you how the world works, a poor college student like you wouldn't even make it through the front door!" "Know your place and don't cause me trouble, or they will have you beaten to a pulp!" Seeing that he was still running his mouth, I kicked him three feet away as I chuckled. "Who do you think you are? How dare you strut when you're just a gigolo who only knows how to please hags!"

After being reborn, I tear up my school withdrawal form. I no longer wish to become a househusband just for Eliza Stewart's sake. She messages me when she hears the news, but I blacklist her number right away. She camps outside my house to confront me, so my family and I move to a new place immediately. Eventually, she compromises by asking me to join her in Northcrest for college. That way, I can still take care of her. I go behind her back and apply to be an education major at Southwell University instead. In my previous life, she dedicated herself to everything and everyone else, except for me. This time around, I just want us to go on our separate paths and never meet again. A few years later, I set off for the rural region of Westridge to volunteer as a teacher. Eliza, who is also volunteering there, sees me. Her eyes start turning red. She grabs my hand and refuses to let go. "Don't run off this time, Matthew…"

When news of my arranged fiancee's death arrived, I didn't cry or make a scene. Instead, I quickly reclaimed her shares and had the death certificate issued. I did it because I've been reborn. In my past life, Dad was worried that women would eye my fortune as the heir to the wealthiest family. So, he arranged for me to marry one of three women he personally picked. I chose the most outstanding one, Monica Harris, and married her. However, just three days after our wedding, she died suddenly. Heartbroken, I was persuaded by the remaining two women to give up on marriage and remain single for life. At 80 years old, when I returned to our special place in Sunmere Valley to reminisce, I saw Monica. She should have been dead for 60 years! She stood beside Liam Rogers, my driver who'd gone missing decades ago, surrounded by their children and grandchildren, living a picture-perfect life. I realized I'd been deceived my entire life. The shock sent my blood pressure soaring, and I died of a stroke on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was transported back to the day I died. This time, I'm going to find out exactly how someone who's supposedly dead keeps on living.

On the day of the SAT exam, my girlfriend’s childhood friend, Benedict Casper, forgot his admission ticket at home. She insisted on retrieving it for him, but I begged her not to go. In the end, Benedict missed his final chance for taking the exam and, overwhelmed by despair, he jumped to his death. Years later, my girlfriend, Ella Simpson, and I graduated from Whitmore Institute of Technology, landed high-paying jobs, and built a picture-perfect marriage. But on the anniversary of Benedict’s death, she stabbed me repeatedly, her voice trembling with rage, “You killed him. If I’d gotten his admission ticket, he would’ve never jumped.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the exams. Ella’s frantic voice rang in my ears, “I have to go back, Dominic. I need to get Benedict’s ticket!” This time, I smiled and said, “Go ahead. Be careful on the way.”

I find myself losing my mind when I learn that my wife, Meredith Snow, is flirting with her professor. I rush to her school, wanting to cause a scene. My father-in-law, Liam Snow, tells me that it's my fault for not being able to keep Meredith in check. Matthew Snow, my brother-in-law, says that I deserve all that is happening to me. I tell Meredith I want a divorce, but she uses our son, Elias Fairfield, to threaten me. I have no choice but to endure her despicable behavior for Elias' sake. I never thought that I would have to endure it for the rest of my life. Meredith lives a fantastic life while I wait on her hand and foot. She's eventually promoted to the position of professor and is guaranteed a comfortable life. As for me, I work hard all my life only for Elias to call me a loser. I end up dying alone on my sickbed in a rented house. Taking pity on me, God gives me another chance. He sends me back in time to the day I asked for a divorce.

When I returned to the corporate research and development press conference, I knew Tyler Zach would step forward to accuse our team of plagiarism, yet I chose to turn a blind eye. In my previous life, Tyler’s accusation had caused Nelson Corporation to instantly lose ten percent of its core interests. Back then, I stepped up and single-handedly saved the day. Not only did I ensure the press conference ended smoothly, but I also used the opportunity to elevate the company’s reputation to new heights. However, I was eventually betrayed. My first love, Rosie Nelson, fabricated evidence against me and sent me to prison. Even the results of my project were falsely credited to Tyler. I refused to believe it. I bombarded her with questions and demanded answers. Rosie’s eyes were filled with guilt, but she only replied, “Evan, Tyler came from humble beginnings. He can’t afford to lose this once-in-a-lifetime chance to make a name for himself! “Don’t worry. We’ll get married once you’re out.” I fought desperately to appeal, but I was beaten to death in prison. I wondered if Rosie could handle the company’s losses without me fighting tooth and nail to turn things around this time. I did not expect Rosie to turn to me at the most critical moment of the conference with panicked eyes and urge me desperately, “Evan! Why aren’t you on stage explaining everything yet?!”

On the day of my birthday banquet, Grandpa asks me which of the Sterling family's daughters I want to marry. I choose the Sterling family's fifth daughter without hesitation, which surprises my family elders. After all, everyone in our circle knows that I, the eldest son of the Hamiltons, am deeply in love with the eldest daughter of the Sterling family, Violet, spoiling and indulging her to an outrageous degree. In my previous life, I did marry Violet. But after only three months, I discovered that Violet was having secret meetings with my illegitimate half-brother, Sebastian Hamilton. At the time, her eyes filled with tears as she looked at me pitifully. "Please, I'm begging you. This really was just an accident." My heart softened, but Grandpa still found out and ordered people to send Sebastian far away to another country. Violet assumed it was my doing and hated me to the bone. In the years that followed, the company's confidential information was stolen. I was killed in a car accident on the very day she discovered she was pregnant. Given a second chance at life, I decide to let the lovebirds be together. But unexpectedly, after the news of my engagement is announced, Violet appears in a wedding dress, crying and begging to marry me.

My wife, Charlene Weber, has taken me to the Scumbag Court. If I'm found guilty, all my assets will be taken from me, and I'll face 10 years of imprisonment. Charlene, on the other hand, will get to marry her ideal man—Joel Quinlan—as she wishes. If I'm acquitted of all charges, Charlene will be made to divorce me without alimony. She'll also be cursed with bad luck and disfigured so badly she'll be the ugliest woman in the world. Conversely, I'll be given 10 million dollars in reparations and gain a lifetime's worth of good luck. Everyone is advising me to admit to my mistakes, but only because Charlene has always been a virtuous, devoted wife in their eyes. They think that there must surely be some complicated grievances between us at the moment. However, they are unaware that I've been reborn. This time, I'm going to tear off Charlene's mask of hypocrisy.

On the eve of the National Robotics Championship, I smashed my carefully designed bot to pieces and announced my withdrawal. Everyone said I was a fraud who was quitting out of fear of being exposed. Online, the netizens mocked me relentlessly. Only one person, Adrian Cross, the so-called genius of the century, spoke up in my defense, his voice dripping with false sincerity, "I believe in River Lowell’s skills. Only he deserves to be my opponent. No matter what setbacks he’s facing, I hope he comes back to the arena and proves himself." In my previous life, the robot I built was identical to his. No matter how I tried to prove he had copied me, Adrian stood before the cameras, wearing his benevolent mask, and said, "It’s fine. This robot can go to River. I can always build something even better." His fans swarmed me, tearing me apart online, and no one believed in my talent. I swallowed the humiliation and vowed to rebuild my robot from scratch. However, when I was assembling it, the Power Core in my kit exploded, shattering my skull. That same night, I was rushed into the ICU. Netizens clapped and cheered, saying I got exactly what I deserved. That night, my girlfriend, Lila Hart, signed the hospital’s DNR consent form without hesitation. Until the day I died, I never understood how Adrian had gotten my robot’s data or why Lila had joined forces with him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day of the competition.

It was my twentieth birthday. My father presented me with the photos of many rich heiresses across the nation. He wanted me to pick the one to have a political marriage with. I told him I wanted to leave that in the hands of fate. Why? In my previous life, I picked Rachel Osborne, an heiress from Shampton. And I did that without hesitation. After we got married, I found out her true love, Zacharias Newman, had gotten himself drunk at a bar. The reason? He was heartbroken that we got married. And while he was drunk, a robber mugged him and cut off his hand's tendons. He tried to kill himself three times, and who did my wife blame? Me. She extracted my family's assets and gave them all to her beloved. My family was left as an empty husk. And she let him cut our brake lines. Thanks to him, my family and I died in a horrifying car crash. This was my second life. This time, I chose Seraphina Oliviera, an heiress from Fortunopolis. She was someone who couldn't care less about worldly matters and was a God-fearing woman. Eventually, I showed up at the engagement with Seraphina, but that apparently drove Rachel mad.

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.

As I fought a stray dog for a loaf of moldy bread, distinguished guests arrived at the orphanage. They'd come to find the long-lost heir of a wealthy family. After confirming their choice, they donated $100 million to the orphanage and handed out chocolates to every child. My mouth watered as I reached for a box, but glowing messages flashed before my eyes. [Lawrence, show your locket! They're here to bring you home!] [Don't let that impostor steal your birthright. It's yours!] They revealed the truth: the elegant couple were my biological parents, and the poised girl beside them was my fiancée. Yet I clutched my chocolate and ran, aware of their true purpose: they'd come here just for the fake heir. Even if I revealed my locket, they'd not pay me any attention.

I was the top engineer at the National Deep-Sea Institute—and the only person in the world with real deep-sea rescue experience. When my younger brother's submarine went down and he called for help from 35,000 feet below, I hung up on him. Then, calm and unhurried, I went straight to the police station and turned myself in for leaking classified research data. A few minutes later, my father called, furious. "Your brother's life is hanging by a thread—where the hell are you?! I demand you to get to the site and save him right now, or you won't see a single penny of the family fortune!" I pulled the blanket over myself and said into the phone, perfectly composed, "Busy. Don't bother me—I'm trying to sleep."

The ER receives a patient in the middle of the night. Despite being the doctor on duty, I use the excuse of suffering from a stomachache to duck into the washroom. Instead, the new pretentious doctor, Scarlett York, is the one taking the lead in saving the patient's life. In my previous life, I put in all of my effort to save the patient's life. That was how I managed to revive him. But when the patient woke up, he claimed that I had broken four of his ribs, so he demanded compensation from me. The hospital also suspended me from my position and made me reflect on my actions just because I drank a bottle of glucose that I paid for. At the same time, Scarlett accused me of selling the medical equipment, which led to me getting fired by the hospital. To make things worse, the patient's family decided to get revenge on me by stabbing me with a blade. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day the patient is sent to the ER.

Ever since I married Myra Cowan, I started living like a beggar despite making an annual salary of a million dollars. She kept telling me, "We should hang in there for now, honey. Once we've saved enough money, we'll be able to live however we want without worrying about our financial situation." My closet was stuffed with old suits bought ten years ago. My lunches were always sandwiches, which were nearing their expiry dates, bought from convenience stores. My friends made fun of me for marrying a woman who was addicted to saving money. But my heart went out to Myra for suffering with me in life. But when I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer and needed money for a life-saving surgery, Myra broke down in tears and told me that all of our savings were kept in a fixed-term deposit. Before I drew my last breath, I heard Myra telling her younger brother, Dwight Cowan, over the phone in a gentle tone, "I've already transferred you the down payment for your house." When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Myra demands that I sell my gaming account in exchange for money. The monitor shows a familiar login screen. Myra can be seen standing next to me. "This account can be sold for 8,000 dollars. We can save three months' worth of expenses with this money!" I just laugh in response. In my previous life, I had done nothing but save money. In the end, all of my money became someone else's assets. Why the hell should I save money in this life? With just one click on the mouse, I reload a million dollars into the game right away. Immediately, a reddish-golden meteor shower covers the skies of the entire server. The system makes an announcement in a bold, enlarged font that gets repeated for a long time. "Player 'Void' spares no expense, inviting fair maidens from across the realms to forge a destined bond! Those who are interested are welcome to attend the Celestial Lake Gathering. A bride price of one million awaits—offered in exchange for a single, sincere heart."

On the day we chose our college majors, the influencer who was the school's heartthrob held a livestream and announced that he had decided to lead the anti-rat-race movement and would choose to attend a vocational college. The whole class followed him. Seeing the rapidly increasing number of followers, he smiled smugly. "They can do these low-class jobs if they like. I'll change my choice back to Harvard University at the last minute." I tried to dissuade him, but this would cause network congestion. My girlfriend slapped me. "You nerd! Who are you to tell our idol, Zach Simpson, what to do?" In my previous life, I spent half an hour dissuading them, and only then did the students change their college choices. However, Zach failed to change his application due to network lag and was admitted to a vocational college instead. He could not bear the blow and jumped into the river to commit suicide. The students who had entered prestigious universities collectively vented their anger on me. At the class reunion, they poured 99 bottles of beer down my throat and locked me in the karaoke's freezer. "Who cares about the prestige of a prestigious university? You'll just be working for someone else after graduation anyway!" "Why did we follow Zach in the first place? Wasn't it to break this damn rule?" "Zach was leading us to realize our dreams! If you hadn't interfered, I would already have gone to a vocational college with him!" They spoke disdainfully of prestigious universities, yet not one of them chose to drop out. I froze to death in a dark, cold freezer, my eyes wide open. Years later, they became elites in their respective fields, while my parents could only weep looking at my portrait. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Zach was livestreaming in the classroom. This time, I promised I would not interfere. Instead, I wished them a happy vocational college experience.

Late one night after getting off work, I was scrolling through my company group chat when a colleague shared a piece of news. The headline was horrifying. "Night-Shift Courier Murdered During Delivery, Police Suspect Robbery." I zoomed in on the crime scene photo that had been partially pixelated, and a chill ran straight down my spine. Lying in a pool of blood, the courier who had been hacked to death was unmistakably me. I had scrolled into news of my own death. Almost at the same time, my delivery app began vibrating violently. "Urgent pickup! Destination: Unit 704 Hawthorne Ridge Apartments, Building 7. Time limit: 15 minutes. Penalty for timeout: Death." As I stared at the notification that read "Pickup failed three times", the searing pain of my brutal death surged through my body. So that was it. I had already died three times. When I forced open the half-closed security door of 704 for the fourth time, a thin delivery envelope lay quietly inside. I tore it open. A photograph slipped out. It was a picture of my dismembered body. The timestamp showed tomorrow at 7:00 a.m. On the back was a single line written in fresh blood: "Next time, remember to pick it up on time." At that moment, the red indicator light on the hallway surveillance camera suddenly went dark. I looked up. From the ventilation opening in the exact same spot, a single eye was staring straight at me. The mole at the corner of that eye was identical to mine.