단편 작품 & 소설

The company had been losing money for two consecutive years. That year, with our biggest client suddenly going out of business, we lost nearly ten million dollars in receivables. On New Year's Eve, I sent out a company-wide apology email after much deliberation. The email stated, "At this moment, I regret to inform that we can only increase each employee's monthly salary by 20 dollars this year." An intern named Ingrid Little took a screenshot of the email and posted it online. In no time, her post started trending. The entire internet criticized me for being fake and pretending to be poor. They said that my shameless act was a blatant insult to my employees' hard work. "20 dollars doesn't even cover commuting!" "Why hasn't this garbage company gone under yet?" Ingrid replied to each comment with the same line: "I don't care about the money. I just feel insulted. I'm quitting tomorrow." The next day, I walked into the office with bloodshot eyes and turned on the company-wide broadcast. I announced, "Since some people believe I've insulted their dignity, you may submit your resignation immediately. However, you will no longer be entitled to the year-end bonus of 20 thousand dollars." Everyone gasped in disbelief. Ingrid turned completely pale, and some workers even rushed into my office impulsively. "Boss, this has nothing to do with me! I stand with the company!" After all, my company had increased salaries for 37 consecutive years and given an average raise of over 2,000 dollars each time. They wouldn't find a company like mine elsewhere.

I've just left the washroom when Vanessa Shallow, who has just returned from her maternity leave, covers her mouth as she laughs at me. "Wow, you really are quick when it comes to bathroom breaks, huh? No wonder your sales performance is increasing by leaps and bounds! I suppose it's all thanks to your ability to take off your pants very quickly!" Vanessa acts as though she's joking as she starts making faces at the male colleagues around us. "Right, I forgot how prideful young ladies are nowadays! They can't seem to accept such truths when spoken in such a blunt manner!" The colleagues burst out laughing in a lecherous way afterward. Their perverted gazes keep clinging to my legs the whole time. As I stare at Vanessa's slightly bloated face, my gaze grows cold. It seems that she's so anxious to get her position as the project leader back that she's willing to shed even her sense of shame and propriety. I take a step forward and speak up. "I'm not as skilled as you are when it comes to such things, Vanessa. After all, not everyone is capable of making Mr. Studdard visit their home every midnight during their maternity leave." As soon as my words fall, the previously rowdy office goes deathly silent.

My father-in-law, Eason Chapman, suffers from a sudden heart attack. On the way to the hospital, I'm forced to a stop by a Ferrari. Knowing that the Ferrari belongs to my wife, Cindy Chapman, I lower the car window and tell her to make way for me right away and to not waste any time. What I don't expect is to see Cindy in a state of undress while she's sitting in the front passenger seat. Meanwhile, her first love, Harley Gunn, is the one behind the wheel. "You really have grown bold, Ian Jowett! How dare you take my dad's car out on a spin! Don't forget that you're just a live-in son-in-law!" I glance at the rearview mirror, where Eason's face has already gone blue. Then, I yell in alarm, "Hurry up and get out of the way! Dad is suffering from a heart attack right now! I need to take him to the hospital!" Cindy screams at me angrily, "How dare you use my dad's luxurious car to give your dying, broke dad a ride to the hospital! Get him out of the car right now! Don't jinx my dad's car with your dad's death!" I'm not in the mood to fight with Cindy, so I put my foot down on the gas pedal and start speeding toward the hospital. Throughout the journey, Cindy keeps stopping me with her Ferrari, causing me to brake repeatedly. In the end, Ian closes his eyes in the backseat forever.

We had been married for five years, but Chuck Gorman spent more than half his time at the condo opposite the river. He claimed that his older brother, Calvin, had passed away at a young age, leaving behind his widow, who had no one to depend on, and that as Calvin's brother, he was responsible for taking care of both families. This was a Gorman family value of upholding loyalty and kinship. I had believed his words then. To help him uphold his loyalty and dignity, I tolerated it whenever he was absent during important holidays and said nothing when he split his time between his sister-in-law and me during Christmas dinner. I even had to hold back my tongue when others mocked me for being a weak woman who was willing to 'share her husband'. However, Chuck had always been gentle yet distant when he spoke to me. This continued until we were involved in an accident with several collisions. The car we were in was wrecked. As I shielded my heavily pregnant belly, I broke out in cold sweat from the pain. I kept hitting the window while shouting, "Chuck! Save the baby…" Chuck climbed out from the driver's seat and glanced at my bleeding body, only to turn away to pry open the car door of the back seat. He shielded Sandi Lemming tightly in his arms, holding her against his chest despite her suffering only minor scratches on the forehead. "Don't look, Sandi. It's okay. I'm right here." He patted her gently on the back while comforting her over and over to calm her nerves. As for me, I was stuck inside the car due to the dented car door. I realized that it was not loyalty and kinship he was practising. He was just unable to see Sandi come to harm at all.

My wife's nephew, Oliver, got kidnapped. The ransom was $500,000. Then my wife froze every card I had. I called her 999 times. Not one call went through. Oliver was tortured for three days. By the time they found him, he was covered in wounds. Dead. I pulled every favor I had and finally found Zara. In a hotel bed. With her so-called brother. "I'm wrecked about Poppy too, but she's gone. We can't bring her back. Holden needs heart surgery, and Poppy's a match. Send the body to the hospital." So Zara thought the kidnapped kid was our daughter. I was so pissed I laughed. Then I sent the body straight to the OR.

At my mom's funeral, my lecturer wife, Vivian Carter, decides to have a rendezvous with her student, Noah Myers, with ten packs of condoms in her bag. Once they are done with their passionate lovemaking, Noah uploads a photo to his social media feed. It features a red-faced Vivian lying on his bed. Meanwhile, the clothes of mourning that she's worn to the funeral are strewn all over the floor. The caption reads, "The only who's not loved is the actual homewrecker here. My relationship has finally borne fruit!" His feed goes wild with comments. Everyone mocks me for being a shameless simp for Vivian, and that I've been ruining Noah's relationship with her this whole time. My mentor, Avery Sanders, is sick with worry. But I, on the other hand, merely brew myself a cup of coffee. Then, I say lightly, "Since he likes uploading his intimate photos that much, I might as well upload photos of his and Vivian's bastard child as well as their paternity tests. Here's the caption—I, the legal husband, am now defending my pride as a married man. "Now, I'd like to see if Noah and Vivian are capable of bearing the consequences of pissing off my prestigious and wealthy family!"

During the holiday, I come across the wedding announcement of my son, Howard Miller, online while recuperating overseas. To my shock, his fiancee is a woman in her 60s! I rush home immediately, only to find that my adopted daughters are gathered around my adopted son, William Miller, and fussing over him. When they see me, they each have something to say. "Ethan, Howard says he likes older women. We've tried talking him out of it, but he won't listen." "Don't worry, Ethan. After Howard marries Ms. Holloway and joins her family as a live-in son-in-law, we'll help him manage all of the Miller family's businesses." "No matter which one of us William chooses to marry in the end, we'll respect it. The most important thing is to produce an heir for the Miller family to carry on the bloodline." As I look at Howard, who is already numb from all the torment, my entire body trembles with rage. The young women who are supposed to become my future daughter-in-law think they can steal everything away from my son. Dream on!

As soon as my neighbor, Shirley Lambert, walked past my house and peeked inside, her eyes lit up. "Mrs. Fisher, this place is huge. It has great lighting too. It'd make the perfect playroom for my son. "You live alone anyway. Just move into our living room. A two-bedroom apartment has more than enough space. "Since we're neighbors, I'll let you stay for free. No rent." I felt so irritated that I nearly gagged. She actually shoved past me into the house and started pointing around like she owned the place. "This crappy couch has to go. The living room would feel way bigger without it. "Oh, and the whole floor needs carpeting. That'd make it safe for my son when he runs around. "Also, why don't you have an air-conditioner? What if my precious boy gets a heat stroke? Could you even afford his medical bills?" She suddenly turned around and glared at me. "Mrs. Fisher, I'm talking to you. Are you deaf? Haven't you got any manners?" Anyone who didn't know better would've thought I was her servant and not her neighbor. I snorted. Clearly, she had no idea about my reputation as the neighborhood menace. "Well, I see you've got plenty of money, and I've got deep pockets. Why don't you hand all your cash over to me for keeping? "And if you like other people's houses so much, I'll write that for you in my letter to Santa this Christmas!"

My adoptive younger brother, Jonathan Arden, is getting married soon, so he has invited me to his wedding. It turns out that the bride is Charlotte Vaughn, my childhood sweetheart-slash-fiancee. My parents think that I'm going to steal Charlotte from Jonathan and cause a huge ruckus at the wedding. That's why they've hired 100 bodyguards, who soon have me surrounded. When things are getting tense, Jonathan rushes down the stage and starts pleading with me. "Mom, Dad, I'm sure Harrison showed up without an invitation just so he can give me his blessings. Please don't blame him." Charlotte takes my hand and says to me pleadingly, "Jonathan is diagnosed with cancer. He's afraid that you might be worried about him, so he's hidden his condition from you. I'm pretending to marry him just so he won't die single." I express my understanding toward the couple before giving them my blessings. Delighted, Charlotte promises me, "Don't worry, you're the only one I view as my actual husband. Once the wedding is over, we'll register our marriage right away." What she doesn't know is that I've already booked an appointment in a fake-death program. A week later, I will leave this place for real. After all, I don't want anything to do with my parents and Charlotte anymore.

The entire company was on a team-building trip when a storm decided to crash our party and wash us ashore on an abandoned island. I was a survival expert, but everyone insulted me and left me behind. My boyfriend's secretary, a self-proclaimed Elf Queen who had the power to commune with nature, held my hand and asked me to stay. Her eyes were red rimmed as she begged, "You barely have the skills to survive in the wild, Ms. Titania. Going alone is risky. I can't let that happen. Your safety's on the line here." I sneered and refused her invitation. Everyone called me an ungrateful bitch, but that didn't sway me at all. I walked right into the tropical forest, where pests and venomous creatures alike had set up homes. In my previous life, my colleagues blamed me for getting stranded on a deserted island. They blamed me because they thought I wanted some spice on our trip. I understood where they were coming from. It was only natural to be scared out of their damned minds now that they were stranded, so I didn't argue. I wanted to do my best and find enough food for us to live until rescue came. However, my boyfriend's secretary would announce the location before I could inform them of the food source I'd found, and her method was identical to the ideas that could only be found in my head. Then, she told everyone she was actually an Elf Queen who could communicate with nature, and it was all thanks to the critters and plants that she managed to find sustenance so quickly. I didn't buy that crap even for a second, so I picked up the pace and tried to get the food as fast as I could. Alas, that secretary would steal my credit every single time. My apparent redundancy and repeated questioning of the Elf Queen lit something underneath my colleagues, and they burned me with their fury. All of them pushed me to hell. Just as the last of my breath left my lungs, my eyes snapped open once more. I was back to the moment that the secretary proclaimed herself as the Elf Queen.

My best friend had borrowed money from me 220 times in a single year. Sometimes it was $50 for groceries. Sometimes it was $5,000 for appliances, cookware, or furniture. I knew he was broke, and I knew life had been hard on him, so I never made a big deal out of it. Then one day, while we were shopping together, my phone died. I asked him to cover a $2.50 bottle of water for me. He said, "Your phone always dies when it is time to pay. Could you make it any more obvious that you are trying to freeload?" It was the first time I had ever asked him to pay for anything.

I'm at a job interview at a major company. One of the interviewers is my father, Edgar Booker, whom I haven't seen in ten years. He wears a sharp suit and carries himself with an imposing presence. When he sweeps his indifferent gaze over me, he pauses for a rare moment. After the interview ends, the HR manager, Jesse Dorsey, pulls me aside. "You're Mr. Booker's son, right? He says you can start next week." I smile faintly and slowly tear up the offer letter. "No, thanks. I don't want to work with a murderer."

On the seventh day after my dad's passing, I head over to the funeral home to wrap up the aftermath of the funeral as well as pack up my dad's personal effects. That's when an employee stops me and demands that I cough up an additional 100 thousand dollars for the storage and preservation of my dad's corpse. I'm stunned, to say the least. Dad has already gotten cremated and buried a long time ago. His ashes are already deposited inside the graveyard, as we speak. So, how is his body getting stored and preserved throughout the week? I use facts and logic to argue with the employee. But he has the gall to threaten me with an impatient scowl on his face. "Stop yapping already! The system shows that your father's body is still inside the cold storage! It's been seven days, so you must pay 100 thousand dollars, no matter what! If you refuse to settle the payment, you can forget about taking your father's personal effects with you! "When the time comes, you have to cough up the additional charges as well! If not, I shall see you at court!" As I stare at the hostile employee, I can feel rage simmering in my blood. Still, I call every family member and relative I have to borrow 100 thousand dollars from them just so I can make the payment. With the receipt in hand, I walk into the police station right away. "Officer, my dad was cremated and buried seven days ago. But the funeral home decided to charge me 100 thousand dollars' worth of storage and preservation fees for no reason! I suspect that they didn't send my father off the proper way!" When the police show up at the funeral home, the same employee who threatened me looks alarmed. He quickly gets his manager, Mr. Lawson, to deal with the situation. Impatience is etched all over Mr. Lawson's face as he snaps at me, "Your father has already gone through the cremation process seven days ago. The procedure and all the receipts are intact. Don't you dare kick up a fuss irrationally now!" I let out a cold chuckle in return before showing Mr. Lawson the receipt. "I'm being irrational, you say? I've just paid for the storage fees of my father's corpse, and here's the receipt to prove the validity of the transaction! You must return my father to me today!" I thought the funeral home insisted on charging me earlier. Now, they'd better fulfill their side of the bargain by returning my dad's corpse to me without a single hair out of place!

I had always been obedient and compliant. I never dared to disobey others' instructions. The day my wealthy biological parents brought me home, my adoptive brother leaned close to my ear and sneered arrogantly, "The position of the Spencer family's heir belongs to me. If you know what's good for you, get lost on your own." I nodded obediently. Then I turned around and threw myself straight into rush-hour traffic on the highway. My parents nearly lost their minds. Panicked and trembling, they dragged me back into the car, their faces drained white with terror. My sister's expression darkened as she warned me coldly in my ear, "If you pull another stunt for attention, believe me, I'll throw you right back into the doghouse you came from." I obediently listened. That very night, I locked myself inside a dog crate. My sister froze in complete shock. Gritting her teeth, she yanked me out, staring at me like she'd seen a ghost. Later, when my adoptive brother pretended to be sick, my sister forced me to donate blood for him. I obediently took the knife. Without the slightest hesitation, I slashed straight through the artery in my wrist. By the time my parents rushed over, blood had just begun spraying out. They screamed in horror and lunged forward to press against my wound. "Somebody call 911! Now!!!" My sister had gone just as pale. After a long moment of stunned silence, she finally stammered, "Mom, Dad… I only told him to donate a little blood to Eric. I never told him to slit his wrist…" I blinked. My sister wasn't lying. She really hadn't taught me that. It was something the traffickers taught me during the five years my family personally handed me over to them—to "learn obedience."

Since my daughter, Lucy Shepherd, is an only child, my husband, Felix Shepherd, and I have decided to find her a live-in son-in-law. I ask on an online forum, "If my future son-in-law has a master's degree from a top university and earns over 10,000 dollars a month, what kind of wedding gift would seem appropriate to welcome him into the family?" Someone jokingly replies, "You'd probably have to be loaded to get a son-in-law like that. Why not give him ten million dollars as a wedding gift?" Without any hesitation, I take the person's advice and give Paul Cranston, my future son-in-law, and his family ten million dollars, along with a riverfront apartment. However, to guard against the possibility of Paul and his family seizing Lucy's inheritance for themselves once we're gone, I make Paul sign a prenuptial agreement. It clearly states that all their children must take the Shepherd family name and that the family's assets will not go to anyone with a different last name. Paul agrees to it and even thanks me profusely for everything. Yet, when Lucy gives birth to her second child, he immediately grabs the baby and changes his tune. "Even though I married into the Shepherd family, that doesn't mean I'm no longer my own person! My son must take my family name! This affects my dignity as a man!" I scoff in anger, but before I can say anything, Lucy, who is completely blinded by love, tearfully takes Paul's side. "Just go along with it, Mom. We're all a family anyway. Why must you harp on whose last name is used?" I hold my ground and refuse to back down. But the very next day, Lucy flies abroad with Paul, bringing along her two children. They have no qualms about moving into the property that Felix and I had bought abroad, as if it were their own. Despite being 58 years old, I am so enraged by her foolishness that I drag Felix to a fertility clinic. We start the IVF process. After turning 59 years old, I give birth to a son. Just as the nurse brings him to me, the door to the hospital room flies open. The family of four, who have just rushed back in a hurry, freeze in place.

Seavora, Carmoria After seven years of a long-distance marriage, I was finally transferred to Leah Lambert's city. On Valentine's Day, I crossed Carmoria with my transfer papers, a big bouquet of roses, and a new diamond ring hidden in the bouquet. I waited outside her office, ready to surprise her. "Babe, where are you?" The second she walked out, I video-called her. I'd been counting down to this moment for years. Her voice was as gentle as ever. "Just got off work. What's up?" "Nothing. Just miss you. Do you miss me?" "Of course I do." A smile tugged at my lips. Thinking about her reaction when she saw me, I stepped toward her. "Really? Then turn around and—" My voice cut out. I froze. Her arm was wrapped around a man in a suit. Then she lifted her head and kissed the man. "If it's not urgent, I'll call you when I'm free. I have something important to do right now." She hung up. I stood in the cold and heard the man tease, "Babe, what's so important?" The woman I'd loved through college and seven years of marriage didn't hesitate. "Being with you." Tears hit the roses. I stared at the diamond ring nestled in the bouquet and let out a bitter laugh. So that's all I am to you? Someone who only matters when it's convenient.

The day before the company retreat, the CEO suddenly sent a message in the company group chat. [How's your leg?] The group chat, which had been buzzing with excitement just moments before, instantly went silent. To protect the CEO's dignified image, I immediately found a CT scan report and sent it into the chat. [Thank you for your concern, Mr. Graham. I already got my leg checked. The doctor said it's nothing serious.] This time, the CEO replied almost immediately. [Good. I'm glad you're okay. You can submit the claims for medical expenses. You can also take another two weeks off.] The group chat instantly flooded with comments praising him. [Mr. Graham is so thoughtful.] [He really cares about his employees.] I was secretly proud of my high emotional intelligence when I suddenly received a friend request from someone claiming to be the CEO's fiancee. [So you're the homewrecker who's been seducing Christopher at work! You're really something, aren't you? Why would he ask about your leg in the middle of the night? [If you have the guts, send your leg photos to the group chat and let everyone admire them!] The sip of water I just took nearly sprayed all over my screen I looked down at the dog curled up in my arms. Its name was Hammie. I then glanced at the family photo hanging on the wall. What homewrecker? I was literally the CEO's mother!

I spent three hundred dollars on a brand-new phone for my mother, only for her to start saying that the smartphone was stealing her money and that I had personally siphoned off her bank balance. I could never win the argument. So I offered to just reimburse whatever “loss” she imagined. She got even more unhappy. She slapped a stack of receipts on the table and demanded I pay up. “Where did you buy this piece of junk? It’s a ticking time bomb. Give me my money back!” Most of the receipts were for men’s sneakers and athletic wear; the rest were household basics like brooms and hangers. I felt a wave of suffocating frustration. Since when was shopping free? Why was I expected to pay for her? I bought her a new phone, and I just became the ATM? “Fine. If you hate it that much, I’m taking it back to the store.” But she would not let go.

Just when I was about to step through airport security for my Around-the-World trip, I heard the twins in my womb, a boy and a girl, shouting. 'Mom! Can you stop thinking about going to have fun? The whole world is going to become a frozen block of ice in a month! You're still thinking about flying around at a time like this? Don't be silly!' 'My brother's right! Hurry home and stock up on food and medicine already! Renovate our mansion! Turn the garden into food storage! Turn the swimming pool into a reservoir!' My heart skipped a beat, and the milk in my hand spilled all over the floor. The passenger behind me urged me impatiently, "Can you hurry up? You're holding everyone up." I ignored him. Instead, I turned around and called my assistant. I also gave him another order. "Get me ten thousand pounds of grains and five thousand pounds of pork belly. The ones with the skin on. I want them now!" From that moment on, Kirsten, the woman in Harbor City who only knew how to burn money and fly all over the world, changed. She became Kirsten, ruler of the frozen wasteland.

To celebrate his female student's birthday, my professor husband brought a group of people into my laboratory without permission. By the time I rushed there, birthday candles had been stuck into my culture dishes, and my research notes were smeared with cake frosting. The only pathogen sample in existence had already been knocked onto the floor. I tried to save it, but Zack Fenton stopped me. "Clean it up later. Let Cheryl make her wish first." Shaking with rage, I pointed at the wrecked laboratory. "Do you even know what that sample was?" He casually lit the birthday candles and barely glanced at the mess. "Wasn't it just the sample for your father's treatment? Your dad's already so old. Who knows if he'll even live long enough for you to succeed? Might as well let Cheryl enjoy her birthday first." Watching him carefully shield Cheryl Smith as she leaned forward to blow out the candles, I suddenly laughed. What he did not know was this: The medicine for my father had already been successfully developed last month. The sample destroyed on the floor was the only one capable of treating Zack's rare disease.