Feel-Good Story の短編小説 & Poor Student Face Slapping 小説

The day I gave birth, so did Lily Jasper—the underprivileged student I had been sponsoring. But her baby didn’t survive. Afterward, my husband, Carter Scott, insisted on making Lily my son’s godmother. From that moment on, she was everywhere—always butting into my parenting. Whether I was disciplining my son or buying him clothes, Lily never missed a chance to chime in with her opinions. Years later, when my son took his college entrance exams, I helped him choose a major that matched his scores. But Lily pushed hard for him to apply to Merika State or Haven State University instead. In the end, he listened to me and got into a suitable college. Then his acceptance letter came. And everything fell apart. That day, he caused a car accident. My accident. He stepped out of the car, walked over, and kicked me a few times as I lay helpless on the ground. His face was full of disgust as he spat, “You actually thought you were my mom?” His voice was cold. “You’ve made my real mom cry over and over because of you. “You were never family. My real parents and I—we’re family. You? You were just in the way. “But it's over now. Finally...” He smiled cruelly. “We can be together—the real family.” And in that moment, I finally understood. Lily didn’t lose her baby that day. She killed my newborn son and swapped him with hers. Everything went dark. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the day I gave birth.

I was a struggling student, and after I argued with Julian Grant yet again over our different attitudes toward money, he began desperately trying to win me back. He sent me flowers and meals every day and waited for me outside my dormitory. But I remained determined to break up with him. My best friend tried to persuade me: "Julian has practically begged you to take him back, and you're still going to keep putting on airs? "If you truly don't want him, I'll pursue him myself. I'll treat him right." I was about to snap back at her when I saw the comments floating across my vision: [The female lead is finally starting to feel sorry for the male lead. Their sweet romance is about to begin.] [This irrelevant female antagonist is seriously irritating. She's dirt poor and still so pretentious. Just write her out already!] [Can the male and female leads just get together already? I don't want any more scenes with this side character!]

My husband, Gideon Huber, is a self-righteous hypocrite. He used my money to fund an impoverished student's education fees, forced me to donate my kidney to a homeless man, and even gave my newborn to a human trafficker. Now that I'm reborn, I finally found out why Gideon had done all those things to me in my past life. Apparently, he was bound to the virtue system in my past life. This time, the system has chosen me as its host. Well then, Gideon, please enjoy the feats of "justice" I shall perform on you!

Felix and I had been inseparable for ten years, and everyone thought we would end up married. When he got into fights at school, I took the blame and got expelled in his place. When he slept with countless women, I delivered birth control pills and breakup money in his place. I had always played the part of the shameless doormat, and everyone believed I loved him more than life itself. But the moment he took over as the heir to his family's fortune, he dumped me. He looked at me with scorn and disdain. "Kathy, maybe once upon a time we were in love, but it's been too long. You're dull, and you've drained away every ounce of my affection. I don't want to spend the rest of my life with you, so get out of my sight. I'm going to marry someone I truly love." Everyone was waiting to watch me fall apart. But when I saw the hospital's proof that my mother had been cured, and the extra hundred million dollars in my bank account, I genuinely smiled. "Fine. I'll leave," I said. The truth was, I had stayed with a player like him only because of a business deal. Now that I had the money, it was time for me to walk away.

In my past life, I supported the bankrupt Clark brothers. However, after I became pregnant, they allowed a poor student, Kimberly Scott, to push me down the stairs, where I bled profusely and died while carrying my child. When I opened my eyes again, I was reborn on the day I had brought them into my house. This time, I kicked them out without hesitation. To my surprise, Kimberly had teamed up with my grandmother to pretend to be the real heiress, painting me as the fake heiress who had taken over the family. The butler, Mr. Williams, who had watched me grow up, came forward and accused me of causing my parents’ death. Under the public backlash they had orchestrated, I remained calm and presented my evidence. Not only did I expose Kimberly’s fake identity as the heiress, but I also revealed the true faces of my grandmother and Mr. Williams. I avenged my parents and gave the wrongdoers the punishment they deserved.

During my legal aid work, I run into a pitiful village girl. Her brother is abusing her, and she has nearly died from his fist. As a lawyer, I can't stand aside and do nothing. So, I help her. After she wins the case, I help her get a job as a janitor at my law firm. A few days later, she becomes pregnant and disappears. I assume she has found a family. However, she returns with a baby and accuses me of raping her. Then, she demands I compensate her. I believe she is just spouting nonsense. But the paternity test comes, and it states that I am the baby's biological father. From that moment on, I become a pariah. I am labeled a disgrace and treated as the scum of the Earth. My girlfriend breaks up with me. Meanwhile, my parents can't bear the shame and commit suicide. Then, a self-righteous fool pushes me off an 18-story building. Even as I die, I still can't understand how she became pregnant with my child. Using her identity as the baby's mother, she inherits all of my assets upon my and my parents' deaths. She then goes on to live the life of a wealthy socialite. When I open my eyes, I am back at the moment I see her getting beaten by her brother.

Sylvia Raine, the underprivileged college student I have financially supported for seven years, turns around and puts me on the trending topics right after I lose my job and stop sending her money. She makes a post, crying about how I only supported her because I had ulterior motives and how I maliciously cut off her financial support after she rejected me, driving her to the brink of starvation. The Internet condemns me as a pervert, and a netizen even shows up at the construction site where I work as a laborer to cause a scene. Sylvia smugly sends me a voice message. "Wire me 50 grand, or I'll ruin your reputation!" She assumes I'll pay up to protect my reputation and keep being her long-term ATM. Instead of calling the cops, I let out a soft chuckle and transfer her a single cent. I casually leave a single sentence in the transfer remark. Ten minutes later, she starts calling me frantically. I don't answer a single call. An hour later, the Internet blows up.

During the outdoor orientation boot camp, Wanda Lawson, the daughter of the richest tycoon, suddenly suffered from a heart attack. She collapsed to the ground and went through a seizure, her complexion bluish-gray. My boyfriend, Joseph Jensen, the drill instructor of the boot camp, overheard my pretentious roommate, Ella Ziegler, murmur, "She's usually fine, so why is she suddenly suffering from some sort of attack when it's time for the drills to start? She must be faking it in order to laze around!" Because of those assumptions, Joseph kicked the medication that Wanda managed to pull out of her pocket into the nearby river. "Get lost if you want to play dead! Don't drag us down with you!" I quickly dived into the river and scooped the medication out. Thanks to my efforts, Wanda's life was saved. Her father was enraged when he found out about the news and wanted to hold someone responsible. With tears streaking down my face, I begged Wanda to not expose Joseph. She nodded quietly to me. Joseph narrowly escaped the judgment. But Ella was expelled by the university right away for her malicious and provocative words. She even had a permanent stain of poor conduct marking her record. On the third day after Ella returned to her village, her family forced her to marry an older man who had remained single for far too long because of his violent temperament. Wanda's father was grateful to me for saving Wanda's life, so he listed me into the list of beneficiaries of his family's trust fund. The amount of money I received was second only to Wanda's portion. On the night news of Ella getting beaten to death by her husband got out, Joseph lovingly invited me to the place we first met so that we could go hiking. When I stood on the steep slope of the mountain, Joseph suddenly snatched the backpack filled with supplies, which included a life-saving whistle, from me. Then, he shoved me off the slope. "Why must you be such a busybody? If you never saved Wanda, she wouldn't have been able to testify against Ella because she'd have died! A murderer like you should just die!" Having broken my spine from the fall, I ended up dying at the foot of the mountain. After my death, not only Joseph got to receive the trust fund thanks to his relationship to me as my fiance, but he also began sponsoring low-income students by using Ella's namesake. That was how he reaped both wealth and reputation in one go. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Wanda suffers from the heart attack.

My son just had surgery. I'm sitting by his bedside in the hospital when I come across a post online. "What's the worst thing you've ever done?" One anonymous comment stands out. "I used the upperclassman who funded me as a stepping stone. My sponsor was rich but clueless. After she paid for my entire college, I slept with her husband and got pregnant. "The craziest part? My son and her son were born on the same day, but my husband swapped the babies. Now, she treats my son like he's her whole world, working day and night to give him a better life. "But her own son lives with me, wearing hand-me-downs and eating leftovers. Today, my son had surgery. I was worried sick, so I slapped her son hard a few times. "Oh, and her family just got a three-million-dollar payout for relocation. My husband is going to the hospital later. He's going to use the excuse of buying a house near the schools to get the money. "Once we have the money, I'm buying a villa. Then I'll get my son back and kick her out!" The post includes a blurry photo of a boy begging on his knees. My breath catches because the charm on his wrist is the same lucky charm I gave my son the day he was born. Just then, my husband pushes open the door to the ward and walks in. "Honey, Sean's starting elementary school soon. Let's use that relocation money your mom received to buy a house near the schools."

At graduation, I invited my classmates to attend my engagement party, but what I didn’t expect was the total meltdown one of my classmates had when she saw my engagement photos. She strutted over, full of herself, and demanded that I take off my dress so she could use it to polish her shoes. I blinked in confusion, thinking she must have lost her mind. I laughed and suggested she head over to the campus clinic to get checked out. Instead, she exploded, pointing a finger right in my face as she started yelling. “You leech! How dare you wear something so expensive?” she screamed. “You’ve been spending all of my boyfriend’s money on your filthy clothes! Have you no shame? Get down on your knees and apologize, or I guarantee you'll regret it. Who knows where you'll end up tomorrow? Maybe in the hands of some trafficker?” I couldn’t help but laugh. Who would’ve thought that my fiancé, whose tuition fees I paid for, had the nerve to keep a secret mistress behind my back?

After the semester began, all of my dorm mates wanted a part-time job. To fit in, I said I wanted one too. One by one, my dorm mates found part-time jobs, while I was still lazing around in the dorm. My dorm mate sent me a message. [How are you going to get by without a job?] I remembered a meme I'd seen online and texted back, "A kind middle-aged couple pays my bills, so I don't need a job right now." I didn't think much of it, until I stumbled across a post on social media. [My dorm mate said she wanted to get a part-time job, but all she does is lie around the dorm. When I asked how she could afford not to work, she said a married couple was paying all her bills. Should I report her for misconduct?] I thought it was funny. The comments gave her all kinds of advice. [Report her! What if she takes a scholarship spot from you?] [Exactly, get her expelled!] I still didn't think much of it until my academic advisor, Ethan Davis, showed up at my door. "Chloe, someone reported you for misconduct. They claim you're a sugar baby. Is that true?"

For three years in college, I was basically the dorms’ unpaid tech support. I was always on call, never charging for dust cleaning, thermal paste replacement, and operating system installations. Then senior year started, and Mickey, a freshman, called me out in the dorm group chat. “You know thermal paste only costs a few bucks a tube, right? Yet, he’s seriously charging you guys two cans of energy drinks for the job.” Mickey added smugly. “My family runs a computer store. Come to me instead. I’ll charge you a can for the service, and I can guarantee authentic parts.” The group chat blew up. “The kid’s legit!” “Well, Axis isn't getting any more energy drinks from me.” I read the messages and quietly packed away my tools in the cabinet. They had no idea the thermal paste I used cost nearly forty bucks a tube. The dust cleaning was done with professional-grade equipment. Little did they know, the so-called genuine parts sold on the market were mostly refurbished parts with a fresh coat of paint. I got into bed and pulled a sleep mask over my eyes. Honestly, this couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. I’d been wondering when these days of doing free repairs at my expense would finally end. Well, there's my ticket out.

Ten years after graduation, I funded a scholarship for underprivileged students at my alma mater. During the ceremony's interview segment, one of the scholarship recipients suddenly grabbed the microphone. "That night at the karaoke bar, you forced yourself on me! Aren't you going to take responsibility?" Her words cut through the room, and every student and faculty member turned to look at me. In an instant, I was branded a rapist. The company's stock fell immediately in response. Amid the chaos, I simply stared at the girl in front of me. Had students really become so ruthless just to get what they wanted? Only a few days ago, I had helped her fend off a gang of troublemakers, so how could she turn around and spread lies about me then? Besides, I was a woman. What could I possibly have done to her?

During the audition of the animal show that will be held on the National Day Gala, Yvonne Quinlan, the self-proclaimed genius animal trainer, instructs the pigeons to go into formation and soar around the skies. But the next thing everyone knows, bird poop begins raining down on everyone's heads. Awkward can't even begin to describe the situation. Having lost her composure, Yvonne blames me for copying her as a fake animal trainer. She claims that I was the one who pulled a prank on her. In my previous life, the python, which I've painstakingly nurtured with my family heirloom and my blood essence, suddenly went berserk. Just when it was about to strangle me to death and devour me whole, Yvonne, who was a low-income student I'd been sponsoring, let out a shrill whistle. The ferocious python immediately coiled around her waist, looking very docile and sweet. My boyfriend, Brandon Jenner, accused me of stealing Yvonne's python just because I had money and power on my side. He also jeered at me for shooting myself in the foot after everything I had done. Almost immediately, I became the thief everyone hated. My python went berserk once again and attempted to devour me. This time, no one tried to save me. Just like that, Yvonne gained popularity after putting on a performance with my python. Brandon even proposed to her on the spot. They became a famous couple on the Internet after that. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the timeframe of three days before my school announces the audition of the upcoming animal show.

After my son finished his final exams, I ordered him a limited-edition supercar as a gift. But not long afterward, I came across a video of him riding an electric scooter and delivering takeout orders. I was deeply moved. I thought he was trying to learn how difficult life could be. Just as I was about to tell him not to overwork himself, I stumbled upon a post from a struggling student my wife was sponsoring. "Thank you for the gift. I'll work even harder from now on." Cyrus Young looked nothing like his usual modest self. He was dressed in a custom-tailored suit, wearing handmade leather shoes and a luxury dive watch as he posed beside my wife for a photo. And parked behind them was the limited-edition supercar I had carefully picked out for my son. A surge of anger rose in my chest. Unable to hold it back any longer, I called my wife. "Olivia Quinn, if this is the best you can do as my wife, then we're done. I'll find someone better."

I'm the ultimate soft touch. My dirt-poor roommate used to survive by digging through trash cans for food. Pity got the better of me, so I covered his tuition, his living expenses, and slipped him fifty dollars a day out of my own pocket. My only condition: he had to tag along whenever I went to my private tutoring sessions. I thought he was grateful for it. Then, junior year, he strutted into the classroom head to toe in designer labels and hurled fifty coins in my face in front of the whole class. "Fifty a day, and you treated me like your personal slave for three years—dragged me along to sit through lectures I couldn't even follow, humiliated me every step of the way! "Well, guess what? My real father just tracked me down. He's a billionaire, and he handed me a black card with no spending limit. Here's your fifty back. I'm done being your errand boy. "And I'll never turn into some arrogant jerk just because I've got a little money—unlike you!" Then he handed out luxury bags to everyone in the class except me. The whole room fell for it instantly, chanting, "Long live Elmer!" I stared at the forty-three purchase notifications that had just popped up on my phone and went quiet. I checked again. My black card—the one my father had given me—was gone. Everything clicked into place. The rich long-lost father? All fake. He'd simply stolen my black card, played dress-up as a billionaire's son, and stomped on me on his way up. Without a word, I made one phone call. And transferred the black card into his name. He'd clearly watched too many soap operas—he thought a black card was some kind of savings account. He had no idea it was just a credit card with a higher limit, and every cent he spent on it, he'd owe back.

During my third year as president of Kingsfield University, I heard that a student I had sponsored had earned the top score on the state exam. On the eve of the SAT, I went to the university's affiliated high school to personally deliver Kingsfield University's only guaranteed-admission spot to him. The moment I reached the door of the senior-year Honors Class, the school belle, who was surrounded by admirers, walked up to me carrying a cup of coffee. Her eyes were red from crying. "You're the working-class girl who's been waiting for him outside the school gates every day lately, aren't you? He won't even look at the study notes I gave him, but he's willing to accept things from you. I'm starting to get jealous…" Before I could say a word, she suddenly grabbed my hand and violently tore apart the highly coveted recommendation form for Outstanding Graduate that she was holding. The document split cleanly in two. "H-How could you destroy my recommendation paperwork for Kingsfield University?" She dropped to the floor in the hallway, tears streaming down her face. Her voice was so loud that it drew teachers and students from the entire floor. "If you're worried that I'll get into the same university as him, then I'll give up my guaranteed admission. But how can someone like you, a girl who never even went to college, ruin my future?" The dean and the surrounding students quickly gathered around, pointing at me and looking at me with open contempt. I was flabbergasted. What did she just call me? A girl who never went to college? I was the youngest female president in Kingsfield University history! I was someone she wouldn't even dare look in the eye based on my achievements alone! When I was personally revising the nation's exam papers three years ago, this so-called recommendation form of hers hadn't even been printed yet. As I regarded this school belle, who continued playing the victim, I grabbed a thick test-prep book from the teacher's podium and slammed it right into her face. "A fool who can't even solve a parabola thinks she's worthy of a recommendation from Kingsfield University? If you dare smear my name again, I won't just ruin your future. I promise you I'll remove the principal from his job, too."

After the college entrance exam results are released, my childhood best friend, Lucille Kirk, and I celebrate with our families at a five-star hotel. Over dinner, our parents talk about how nice it would be if we applied to the same university. That way, we can continue looking out for each other, just as we have while growing up. I glance across the table at Lucille and ask politely, "Lucille, which university are you planning to apply to?" The moment the words leave my mouth, a flood of comments suddenly flashes before my eyes. "Oh, here we go again. I bet this pathetic second male lead is planning to follow the female lead to the same university." "I feel so bad for the female lead. She's had to put up with this guy clinging to her for three whole years just to keep the peace between their families." "Don't worry. The female lead has already agreed to attend Aurelia University with the male lead, Sawyer Spencer. She's definitely going to name some school on the other side of the country just to get this guy off her back. I can't wait to see his face when she does!" Lucille stares at me, her brows furrowed. Then she lets out a cold, dismissive laugh. "Clement Carnegie, where I go has nothing to do with you. I'm applying to South Coast University, all the way across the country. That place isn't suitable for you." I meet her gaze and nod, as if I couldn't care less. Then I turn to the girl standing quietly in the corner of the private dining room, silently holding the Kirk family's coats and car keys. "Mabel, which university do you want to apply to?" I ask. "I want to go to the same one as you." The sneer on Lucille's face instantly freezes. Both our families stare at us in shock. None of them knows that the timid girl with the cheap hearing aid—the one Lucille constantly calls "dummy"—is actually the long-lost daughter of Aurelia's wealthiest family. They have been searching for her for 18 years. And all these years, the reason I keep showing up at the Kirk Manor has never been because I'm chasing Lucille. I only go there so I can see that "dummy" a little more often.

After my girlfriend of seven years checked in from the foreign third-world country, Bayndemar, she suddenly vanished without a trace. That same night, I received a video from her phone. In the footage, a man wielding an electric baton sneered at the camera. "Bring five million dollars to the compound if you want her back alive." Beside him, my girlfriend's clothes were torn, her body covered in blood. Trembling, she begged through tears, "Ryan! Save me! They promised they'd let me go once the money's paid!" Without hesitation, I went alone. But the moment I landed, I was drugged into unconsciousness. In the end, I was tortured to death. Meanwhile, my girlfriend returned home with one-third of the ransom money and married the student my family had sponsored. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day she disappeared.

Before my wedding to Sophie Bennett, the impoverished student I've been sponsoring for ten years posts a photo on social media. "Successfully moved into the new apartment. Soph prepared such a big, soft bed for me!" In the photo, Zachary Wells lies sprawled on the wedding bed I bought for Sophie and my new home, taking a smug selfie with his hand waving at the camera. He's even wearing my wedding ring on his ring finger. Zachary also comments on his own post, "Just thinking about how I'm the first man to lie on this bed fills me with overwhelming happiness!" I reply with a question mark under his comment. The next second, Sophie's call comes through. "I'm just letting Zach experience the warmth of home. Why are you being so passive-aggressive?" In the background, I hear Zachary softly trying to calm her down. "Soph, he's not worth getting angry over." Hearing that, Sophie laughs and banters with him, then abruptly hangs up on me. The two of us have been together for ten years, from ages 18 to 28, and we've finally made it to our wedding day. But now, I no longer intend to go through with it.