Short Stories & Novels

Out of the blue, I get a call from the Department of Labor. The officer tells me they received a complaint, accusing me of gender discrimination. Apparently, my treatment of the male and female employees is extremely unequal. I'm left feeling utterly bewildered. Out of compassion for my employees, I give the female employees paid leave during their periods and pregnancy. I also give the male employees the benefit of a family support allowance. I've never discriminated against anyone because of their gender, and neither have I ever mistreated any of the employees. But then, I proceed to see the social media post that has gone viral. "A certain company gives male employees an additional allowance of a thousand dollars a month! Male and female employees are given different treatment!" Having caught on right away, I call a staff meeting and announce, "All of the company benefits have been canceled. You will only receive the basic benefits listed in your employment contract." Everyone goes up in arms.

I, Lilian Newton, am the top luxury goods repair specialist. 90 percent of the store's revenue comes from me. Three years on the job, I turn a little shop that nearly goes bankrupt into a nationwide chain. Just because I am two minutes late to work, the new manager locks the front door and plans to take the staff on a trip. I ask her why I was not informed. She scoffs and says, "The capable should do more work. We are going on a trip. You stay behind to work overtime. If you can't handle it, then get lost!" I laugh in exasperation and call my husband right away. "I hear you're planning to fire me. Is that it?"

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?

"This feels… incredible… you really know how to handle women…" I'm a figure photographer. Through my lens, I had handled countless women in their most seductive and lascivious moments. The women in my lens, no matter who they were before, always became top-tier models, because I trained each and every one of them. In a dimly lit room, a woman knelt on the bed, completely exposed. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths, her cheeks flushed and her eyes hazy. The only thing still held high was the curve of her hips, lifted firmly in my grasp…

A while ago, my sister-in-law, Annie Larsson, who is in her senior year of high school, came over to stay with us during her summer break. The well-developed young woman's daily outfit consists of a camisole and tiny shorts. She doesn't even wear a bra. When she walks or sits, her bust always looks perky. She has a slim, curvy waist, and her butt is always arched alluringly. Any man would have dirty thoughts about her, especially me, her lecherous brother-in-law who dares to act on his lewd impulses. The term "sister-in-law" is simply too tempting to me.

"Mmm… With my husband away, his little brother comes to play with me… You two are really… ahhh…" After my brother finished and left the room, my sister-in-law lay on the bed, fast asleep and completely defenseless. I could not hold back anymore. I reached out and touched her. To my surprise, she woke up from my touch… yet instead of pushing me away, she pulled me into her arms, willingly letting me leave my marks all over her soft body. Lost in the heat of the moment, I looked up–and saw my brother’s figure standing right there.

My superior loved tricking me into wearing tight-fitting pencil skirts to serve wine to sleazy clients while sticking close to them. Then, she would hint that I was single and a valid target while she excitedly waited for the clients to make a move on me. It was all in the name of checking the integrity of the clients and whether they were worthy business partners or not. The moment a client fell for it, she would rush over with righteous anger and throw wine in their faces. Then, she would lecture me with a voice heavy with anguish. “Do you lack money so much that you’d throw your dignity away just for better results?” She would trample all over my dignity to set up her image as a refined, noble woman. This time, she even prepared a gown with a super low neckline and pushed me to serve a client with a rich and powerful background. She threatened me by saying that if I did not go, she would deduct my bonus for three whole months of full attendance. But when I saw the familiar, cold man sitting in the seat of honor, it was my turn to laugh. If my brother saw me serving wine in this kind of dress, I did not doubt that by tomorrow, the company would be under my name.

Liam Dunlap, my girlfriend's junior apprentice, bragged that he could defuse a bomb with one hand. Then he slipped. The timer began to race. Terrified, he dropped his tools and ran. I stepped in at great risk and saved the hostage. For that, I was commended. Liam, on the other hand, was condemned across the internet and faced severe disciplinary action. My girlfriend tried to speak up for him, but I stopped her. "If you defend him now, not only will your promotion be revoked—people online will come after you too." Later, unable to bear the pressure, Liam jumped to his death. Every line of his suicide note blamed my girlfriend for not standing by him. She said nothing. She simply burned the letter in silence. After that, she rose step by step from a frontline officer to a model figure in the police force. On the day I was kidnapped by criminals, she came in person to defuse the bomb strapped to me—using only one hand. She looked coldly at the device on my chest and said, "See? It can be done with one hand. Why did you all have to drive Liam to his death back then? If I had protected him at the time, the one in my position today… should have been him." The bomb detonated. I died on the spot. After I opened my eyes again, I saw her running around desperately for Liam. She didn't know—the hostage was the mayor's son.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.

After wrapping up a book signing out of town, I received a message from a friend on the way home. "This personal trainer is something else. He can do all kinds of things with an exercise ball." He also sent me a Live Photo. In the Live Photo, a woman was lying on an exercise ball, pinned down by a man. Her hair was covering her face. In the Live Photo that was a second long, I heard a familiar moan. I called my fiancée. "Where are you?" Her voice was a bit hoarse, "I'm training with an exercise ball at the neighborhood gym, babe. I have a big surprise waiting for you when you get home." I snorted and said, real slow, "How about I give you a big surprise right now? Open the door!"

My new patient, Lydia Baldwin, has called the police 99 times. Her voice trembles with fear as she says, "My son has a mole on his neck, but the one now doesn't! My husband used to throw up at the smell of cilantro. But now, he eats it every day and even enjoys it! "They are impostors! Why won't the police arrest them?" I am deeply shocked. Because just half an hour earlier, I met her son. He had dark circles under his eyes as he handed me Lydia's medical records. "My mom has Alzheimer's disease. She doesn't just forget things now. She talks nonsense too. Please, you have to help her come to her senses." But I specialize in treating Alzheimer's. Lydia's memory is sharp. Her logic is clear and well-supported. She isn't sick at all.

Everyone cheered on the most handsome student in our elective class, Jack Anderson, to reveal his ideal type. “My future wife has to be at least five feet five inches tall, and her parents must be professors. She also has to be beautiful and a top student in her field…” While everyone cheered, I immediately looked up. Why did the description… sound like my girlfriend, Cindy Swift? The next second, the professor standing next to the podium, Liam Swift, immediately smiled obsequiously. “That’s great! If Cindy hears this, she’ll be very happy! “You should meet her so that she wouldn’t go overseas over some silly guy.” Our classmates were roaring with laughter. I lowered my eyes and stared at the text message my parents had sent me. [You rascal! Are you sure you want to accompany your girlfriend overseas? No one will take over our family business, then!]

Although I've bought my mom the golden bracelet that she's always wanted, she still looks glum. "Honestly speaking, you really know how to take advantage of others. Previously, Henry treated us to some pancakes, but you still haven't wired him your share of the money." While I have yet to register the meaning of Mom's words, my cheeks have already flared brightly out of embarrassment. Mom continues, "Even though you've taken good care of our family, you're not as caring as Henry at all. In fact, you're no different than that of a caretaker." I feel as though someone has dumped a bucket of ice-cold water on me. My mind keeps buzzing loudly the whole time. Mom just rolls her eyes at me before picking out a gold necklace so that she can put it on Henry's neck. "Give this necklace to Henry. Think of it as your way of making it up to him." At that moment, my love for my mother finally dissipates. Hence, I give the gold bracelet to my wife, Evelyn Gilbert. Then, I call the movers to move the new furniture into my home before having my mother's targeted medication discontinued.

My roommate blew up online overnight, becoming a 'luck streamer' that everyone could not stop talking about. On her livestream, she only took three requests a day. Anyone who paid could make a wish, and no matter how absurd it sounded, it would come true. However, ever since she started, my luck spiraled downhill. I would choke just drinking water. I would miss a step and tumble down the stairs. During finals, I even filled out my answer sheet in the wrong direction. She would always smile and reassure me, saying, "It's okay. Your zodiac sign is going through a strong Mercury retrograde this year. It'll get better soon." A few days later, a falling billboard crushed me to death in the street. It was only after I died that I learned the truth. Every wish she granted during her streams was paid for with my luck. The reason I died so suddenly was because someone had wished for their enemy's entire family to die. The price was too high, and my luck was completely drained. Then, I opened my eyes again. I was back to the moment not long after she had just started streaming. "Lucky?" Yeah, right. This time, she can be the one carrying all the bad luck.

I was an extremely selfish person. I drained my parents’ life savings, abused my young nephew, and extorted my husband’s premarital assets. My family could no longer endure it and took me to court. If the charges were proven, I would be flayed alive, my tendons torn out, tortured until death.

Flynn Watson, the actual heir of the Watson family, reported me for cheating during the exams. As I stared at both copies of the test papers with perfect grades and the same answers, I found it difficult to explain what happened. Everyone took Flynn's side. Because of that, I was painted as a cheater, which resulted in my exile from the Watson family. The Watsons went as far as to get me blacklisted from all industries just so they could appease Flynn. I ended up on the streets as a homeless person, where I got tormented incessantly. In a daze, I got hit by a car. I still failed to understand why my test papers would show the same answers as Flynn's even when I was on death's door. When I open my eyes again, I've gotten reborn on the day of the exams. This time, I choose to not write anything on the exam papers at all. I'd like to see just how I can be branded as a cheater now that I'm not given any marks at all.

My family and I have gone on a vacation to an island on All Hallows' Eve. Alas, that's where we get trapped by a flood as well. The tour guide claims that someone among us has committed many misdeeds, resulting in the flood. That person's antics have offended some malicious spirits, it seems. As long as the sinful culprit is thrown into the water and drowned, everyone else can leave the island safe and sound. "Here's a piece of information for you—the offenders are a family of seven. As long as all seven of them are dead, the rest of you get to survive." My heart goes tense at the tour guide's words. My family consists of seven people! Are we supposed to get annihilated on this island? "That's bullshit! How is the flood related to malicious spirits?" "Floods are caused by natural disasters! How are they related to people?"

During my vacation, I'm in the middle of a riverside stroll with my wife, Wendy Summer, when I suddenly hear someone screaming. "Please! Save my drowning son!" Before I can regain my senses, Wendy, who's pregnant, quickly pushes the crowd apart and rushes toward the center of the conflict. "I'm a doctor, so I can help save the patient. I'll perform CPR on him right away." As Wendy speaks, she moves to lean over the patient. But that's when I grip her by the wrist tightly. "You're not allowed to save him. If you dare administer CPR to him, we'll get a divorce." Wendy stares at me in shock. "Have you gone nuts? Healing the sick and treating the injured is a doctor's duty! You're a doctor as well, Rowan! How could you say such things?" The onlookers begin admonishing me. "If you don't heal the sick and treat the wounded, then what sort of doctor are you? You're just an unethical bastard!" "I can't believe doctors like you still exist! You have no right to remain as a doctor! I'm going to record your actions and upload the video to the Internet!" I say firmly to Wendy, "We shall not be discussing this matter. If you save him, we'll get a divorce right away!"

After the company's entire plane crashed and everyone on board died, we all found ourselves transported into a novel, tasked with winning the favor of a queen. The system's icy voice issued its prompt: [The queen's male consort possesses a voice as melodious as a lark's.] Our handsome secretary smiled with quiet confidence. That very day, he stationed himself along the queen's usual route and began to sing a modern pop song. The queen was thoroughly pleased. She summoned him onto her carriage. Our colleagues looked on with unconcealed envy. "Looks like the bonus is his." "How lucky. The queen is wealthy and beautiful. Not only does he get to spend the night with her, he'll make a fortune too." But the next day, we saw the secretary hanging from a tree in the royal garden. His body was completely naked, riddled with arrows, his eyes still wide open in death. The voice he had once cherished was now a vessel crammed with thick, crude bamboo spikes. At the same time, the system's cold notification sounded once more. [All challengers' lives have entered the countdown. Please complete your conquest as soon as possible.]

My wife was hot. The face of an angel, and the body of a succubus—that kind of hot. She started doing swimsuit modeling online and made hundreds of thousands every month. But therein lay a problem for me. Because I found out that the company Victoria's working with was doing more than just selling swimsuits.