단편 작품 & 소설

A wealthy heiress from Belvoria’s elite circle asked me to be her dead boyfriend’s substitute. My compensation included a 50,000-dollar base salary, plus 8,000 dollars per shared meal and 10,000 dollars per accompanying shopping trip. My hypocritical older sister quickly stopped me from agreeing to this deal. “We come from a respectable family. How can you sell your dignity for such little money?” Yet she later became a rich man's mistress and successfully married into wealth. Meanwhile, I struggled to balance work and studies to pay for my tuition. This hurt my academic performance. After graduation, I could only find a job with a monthly salary of 3,000 dollars. I even developed a tumor from overworking. I eventually died in a cold and impersonal hospital, unable to afford treatment. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day the young heiress asked me to be her dead boyfriend’s substitute. This time, I agreed without hesitation. I was determined to take this role.

On our third wedding anniversary, I waited for Xander Christian for five hours at his favorite restaurant. Once again, he has disappeared. In the end, I found out where he went on the social media of his childhood sweetheart, Josie Law. He took her to Antartrica. [I just said I was in a bad mood, so he ditched the whole world just to cheer me up. Turns out, he cheers me up much more than the penguins.] In the photos, it was all icy and frosty, but he held her gently in his arms. I had never seen such blazing warmth in his eyes. Not once was it ever directed at me. At that moment, I was just tired. I was too tired to question. I was too tired to fight. I was too tired to cry. I simply liked the post and sent him a short message, [Let's get a divorce.] A long time later, he finally replied with a voice message, his tone was full of careless amusement, "Sure. I'll sign the papers when I'm back. We'll see who ends up begging me not to leave." Those who were loved and favored were often fearless. He didn't believe my words at all. Yet, Xander— No one was truly indispensable. People would only stay because they were in love. From this moment on, I no longer loved you.

The moment they released the year-end audit notice, I just stared in disbelief at the mention of my car, which I had paid for in full and in cash. It was boldly listed under the company’s fixed assets. “Our company practices a ‘family-friendly’ culture. What’s yours is the company’s. We’re a family. There’s no need to get picky about what’s yours or mine.” As if that was not enough, the company fired the driver and handed the chauffeuring duty to me. “Here’s the reception schedule for this month. Also, please pick up my dad at Babolle at 3 a.m. tonight.” My expression had darkened. Nonetheless, the human resources manager continued, “In a family, there’s no ‘yours’ or ‘mine’. My dad is your dad, right?” I was so furious that I almost exploded. ​ “I’m taking my car back, then!” She immediately took out a loan contract. “Simple. Pay by instalments. Work here for three years and you can ‘buy’ back your car.” So not only did I have to work as a driver for free, but I also had to pay to reclaim my car. Ever since the human resources manager parachuted in, she cut perks and cancelled vacations. She even started to dig into my wallet! “I quit!” She sneered. Then, she brandished a thick employee handbook. “Clause 1867 states that an employee who resigns of their own accord will need to pay double their salary. You’re under a six-month probation starting from now. Pass it, then you can leave.”

Each of my three ex-boyfriends ends up committing suicide right after eating food that my mother, Florence Winters, makes. Their deaths are very different from one another, with the only similarity being that they all eat food made by Mom before they die. Mom goes viral in an instant. She becomes the center of everyone's attention, and she is even taken away by the police. But they never manage to find anything wrong with any of the food she makes. I don't dare to get into another relationship. I pack my things and move out of the house, leaving Mom. Two years later, Mom shows up at my engagement party. She proceeds to feed my fiance, Lawrence Smith, some food…

Three years married to Victor, the Don, and as far as New York was concerned, we were untouchable. Until my own car was in the shop, so I took his daily driver from the garage. On the way, I activated the car's smart system and said, "Navigate home." But the screen pinpointed a place I had never seen before — a villa in the suburbs. Then, a sugary-sweet voice floated from the speakers: "Okay! Setting course for Victor and Mia's secret castle." My stomach dropped. Who was Mia? And what secret castle? Without a second thought, I dialed his number. "The home address is set to some strange place." He just laughed it off. "Oh, that. One of my guys' car broke down the other day. I let him use mine to drop someone off." "Okay, no problem," I said, smiling into the phone. I ended the call and pulled up the navigation history. That villa address was listed seventeen times, every single one on a day Victor was supposedly "out of town on business." I fired up the engine and drove.

Before my wedding, my future sister-in-law diagnoses me with cervical erosion. She insists it's because of my promiscuity. My boyfriend arranges for my sister-in-law to operate on me without my permission. After the surgery, I find that my womb is missing. I'm furious, and I want to know what's happened. However, my boyfriend berates me. "It's perfectly normal for Kate to make a mistake since it was her first surgery. You're her sister-in-law—stop making a big deal out of a small thing!" I refuse to settle the matter privately and call the cops. That's when my boyfriend secretly murders me via poisoning for the sake of his sister's future. When I open my eyes again, I find that I've been taken back to before the surgery.

On New Year's Eve, my older brother, Casper Shaw, attempted to expose me as a fraud and announced that Jenny Ford was the real heiress to the family. He pulled out a paternity test result and threw it in my face. "Open your eyes and take a look! Jenny is the Shaw family's real daughter. You're just a fake who has taken Jenny's place for so many years, yet you still have the nerve to sit here and eat New Year's Eve dinner with us!" Then, he pushed Jenny in front of us, revealing a face that looked exactly like my mom, Theresa. Everyone froze. I lunged for the report, but suddenly, a stream of floating comments rolled past above Jenny's head. [Is the female lead finally going back to her rich family and starting a sweet romance with her fake older brother?] [Not yet. Right now, they still think they're siblings. They only get together later, once the misunderstandings are cleared up.] [Am I the only one who feels bad for the female supporting character? She's the biggest victim in the whole book. She takes all the female lead's hatred that should have gone to her fake brother, and she gets treated as the fake heiress and sent to the Ford family to suffer on top of that.] I looked at Jenny's face and compared it to my own—we almost looked like twins. I checked our ID cards again, confirming that our dates of birth were exactly the same. "Seriously? Ever think that you might be the real impostor here who was switched at birth?"

Five years ago, I became the wife of Cesare Fontana, the most powerful mafia don in Navarino. However, he didn't make our relationship public. Cesare has always been cold and unfeeling toward everyone. I assumed that's just the way he is. One day, I get to see the way he interacts with Sonia Moretti, his childhood friend. When I see the bright smile on his face and notice the attentive care he shows her, I finally realize that there is someone in this world whom he treats with gentleness and warmth. Alas, I'm not the lucky woman. I hand over the divorce papers. Cesare remains as impassive as ever. He signs the paperwork without even knowing that it will mark the end of our marriage. When he finally finds out that I've left, weirdly enough, he immediately panics. He does everything in his power to find me and bring me back. By then, I've already left the country. I make my way to a country beyond his reach and carve out a fulfilling life for myself. Cesare becomes the one who pines for me instead.

The top-tier charity auction in Manhattan is about to begin when my boyfriend’s stepsister spots a pearl necklace she likes. Wanting to buy it as her birthday gift, my boyfriend reserves a bidding seat. But due to a mistake by the organizers, the seat had actually been reserved by someone else before he booked it. An elderly lady dressed plainly says the seat is hers, yet they show no intention of yielding. I force my boyfriend to give the seat back to the woman. But Amy storms out in a fit of anger. That night, gunshots echo through the neighborhood. A stray bullet hits her, and she bleeds out on the spot. He calmly arranges her funeral, yet still keeps his promise and marries me. Soon after, my father dies in what is ruled an accident. On the day of my father’s funeral, he storms into the church with his men. Looking at me kneeling before the coffin, he smiles arrogantly. “Olivia, this is what you owe Amy! If you hadn’t stopped me that day, the seat would’ve been hers! She wouldn’t have run out in anger, and she wouldn’t have been shot! Let me tell you something—your father was killed by me. And now it’s your turn!” Right in front of everyone, he shoots my younger brother—who had been kneeling beside me, begging for mercy—dead with a single bullet. His bodyguards pin me down and drag me out of the church as I watch helplessly, his blood pooling before my father’s coffin. When I open my eyes again, my boyfriend is glaring angrily at the waiter, about to explode. What he doesn’t know is that the plainly dressed old woman in sunglasses is the mother of the current Don of the most powerful Mafia family in New York—the Morretti family. And that Don is famously devoted to his mother.

I got pregnant at the same time as Sabine, my blood-mate Draven’s first love. But her child wasn't his. It was a werewolf mongrel—the spawn of our clan's sworn enemy. To protect her, Draven claimed the mongrel as his own. He named it the heir to our clan. And my child, a true pureblood, was branded a bastard. By his own father. "Isolde," he gripped my hand, his golden eyes pleading. "Sabine is alone. The Elders will execute her. This is temporary. Trust me!" I was a fool. I believed him. While he was gone, escorting her to safety, his parents dragged me to the ritual chamber. They forced the cruel "Blood Purification" on me. By the time he returned, I was gone. And our child was dead.

While attending a class reunion with my wife, we ran into her old flame—Caelum Zeth. After the gathering, Talia Grant cornered Caelum against a wall. When she found out he had fallen on hard times, she kissed him. "How much do you still owe? Be with me. I'll give you 100 thousand a month. Will that be enough?" I stood quietly at the corner of the street and snapped a photo of their heartfelt reunion before sending it to my lawyer. I also forwarded it to Talia, along with a message, "Since you two are so in love, go ahead and marry him."

On the flight to Arlencia, a post popped up: [What's it like to have sex in a wedding dress?] The pic showed a girl yanking some guy's purple tie while he hiked up her gown. His face was blurred, but hers? Straight-up blissed out. Everyone in the comments was swooning over how in love they looked. I didn't swoon. I froze. Because that purple tie? I gave it to Zeke Santoro, my fiancé, a few days ago. And that wedding dress? The exact custom one he had made for me. There was only one. I kept zooming in, heart racing, until I spotted a family photo in the background. My hands were shaking when I called him. "I wanna see the dress," I said. He hesitated. "It's at the studio getting final touches. Not with me right now. I'll show it to you later." I just smiled and hung up. That was all I needed. Zeke cheated—and the girl? His stepsister, Jella. Total circus. I reopened the post and shot her a DM: [Your wedding dress is stunning. I have the same one.]

I had no choice but to become the partner of a mafia boss with an incubus bloodline when his heat cycle began. To my surprise, Lionel Andrus and I got along better than I ever imagined. Every night, he held me close, craving more of me, as if we were made for each other. But right before we got our marriage license, my jealous sister, Tracy Rowe, tried to talk me out of it. "Incubi are born flirts," she warned. "How do you know you're his only woman? Once he's bored, he'll toss you aside." In my last life, I had believed her. I called off my engagement with Lionel and, through her introduction, married a "nice guy" named Jamie Stephenson. After we married, Jamie cheated on me and gave me STDs. Desperate, I went to Tracy's house to ask for help. She turned me away with disgust. "You couldn't control your husband and ended up sick, and you actually came asking me for money? How dare you! You have no self-respect. You don't deserve to be my sister!" Right then, she publicly cut ties with me. Even our parents sided with her, calling me a disgrace and refusing to let me step inside the house. In the end, I couldn't take the pain anymore and ended up hanging myself. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the very day Tracy told me not to marry Lionel.

Sandra Kinsey's dance studio was where she buried her passion. It was also our secret place. No one else was allowed in. No one but me. Until one day, her assistant barged in, using a love for Latin dance as an excuse, and danced with her intimately. Sandra didn't push him away. That was the moment I knew—you can't make someone stay when their heart has already left. I stripped her of her authority, took over the company myself, and gave Sandra all the freedom she could ever ask for. But later, eyes red and voice trembling, she looked at me and demanded to know why. I sat on the couch and glanced at her with indifference. "Freedom," I said, "always comes at a price. Doesn't it?"

To help my surgeon husband with his erectile dysfunction, I made an appointment with an expert six months in advance. But as the day approached, Isiah Coleman canceled it without explanation. Just as I was about to call him to demand answers, I spotted a post from his female friend on her social media. My usually stoic husband was beaming as he wrapped his arms around her. The caption read: [Only I can cure your illness.] What struck me, though, was the telltale bulge in his pants in the photo—a reaction I'd never seen from him with me. With a cold laugh, I liked the post and left a comment: [What a miracle worker!] The post exploded, with everyone speculating whether I'd confront the mistress. But what awaited him after the holiday was our freshly printed divorce certificate.

Fresh from a business trip, my husband swept me into his arms and pulled me toward the bathroom for a passionate shared bath. As our lips met in a dizzying kiss, I noticed something odd out of the corner of my eye: the toilet lid was down. Seven years ago, after reading an online article claiming that men urinating while standing could splash bacteria onto the seat, he insisted we always keep the lid up for hygiene's sake. In all our years of marriage, it had never been lowered until now. A chill ran through me. The bathroom was pristine, not a stray hair in sight. But then I noticed the shower's water temperature was set five degrees higher than the 98.6°F he always preferred. Men preferred cooler water, and women warmer. In an instant, I realized that Nick Doyle had betrayed me.

When I got home, I received dozens of voice messages from a parent. They had been sent in the group chat with other parents of children in the same kindergarten class as my daughter, Lily. [Ms. Channing, didn't I tell you that my daughter is allergic to furry toys? Why did you allow that boy, Sparky, to give my daughter a hugging bear?] Ms. Channing quickly denied this. No child called Sparky had ever studied in the kindergarten. Another parent was also furious about this. [How can you claim that? My son said Sparky would always force him to play hide-and-seek. If he refuses, Sparky would grab his hair!] I quickly asked Lily what this was about. Lily took out a hugging bear from behind her back and told me about it. [Ms. Channing can't see Sparky. Only smart children can see him. Sparky is a little boy with red eyes. Every child who plays hide-and-seek with Sparky will get a hugging bear.]

When Seth Gibson told me his legs were crippled and that only snowmelt from a mountain's peak could cure him, I did not hesitate. I scaled the mountainside, climbing over 15,000 feet just to get some snow for him. When I staggered back, bruised and scratched, cradling the snow outside the hospital room, I overheard cruel voices down the corridor. "Seth, today's the deadline. Nevaeh still isn't back. Could she have died up there?" "I heard that the mountain's pretty high. She might have gotten altitude sickness. What a shame! She's already risked herself for Seth ninety-nine times. This was supposed to be the last time before the game ended." "Serves her right! She used to bully Janice, Seth's childhood friend, didn't she?" I saw Seth through the crack in the door. He was standing at the window, his legs perfectly intact, and his expression ice-cold. "Enough," he said flatly. "If she dies, the game ends." I froze in disbelief until it finally sank in. Seth had been pretending all along. A laugh nearly escaped me. What a relief! I could finally get rid of this weight on my shoulders. I pulled out my phone and called his uncle. "I'll marry you," I said.

Keaton Rourke and I get in a car accident. My liver ruptures, and I'm drenched in my blood. Teresa Bellamy, my wife, leaves me to die and runs off to save Keaton, who only has a scratch on his forehead. I'm unconscious and clinging to life in the emergency room, but Teresa fusses over how to keep Keaton's forehead from getting a scar. I wake up feeling nothing but disappointment and toss the divorce papers right in her face. She rips the divorce papers to pieces like a lunatic and makes it clear that divorce will only happen over her dead body. I used to bend over backward to make her happy. Now I'm ready to divorce her, no matter what it takes.

“Do you take this woman to be your wife? For richer or poorer, in sickness and health, will you remain faithful to her for the rest of your life?” I looked at Bridget with deep affection and was just about to speak. “Wait!” shouted someone urgently. I turned around in confusion and looked toward the audience. There stood a man holding a baby in his arms. He said pleadingly, “Bridget, our child is hungry… could we pause the wedding for a moment?” Hearing this, everyone erupted in an uproar. It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck me. Only then did I realize that Bridget had a child with another man. Bridget hurried off the stage, then turned to me coldly and said, “I only agreed to marry you out of obligation. But the moment Vernon appeared, I knew it. There’s no one else I want to marry but him.” So, she took off the ring and dragged the man away without looking back. I stood alone at the end of the aisle and clutched the undelivered ring in my hand, as a flood of bitterness crashed through every corner of my heart.