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It was the night before my best mate’s wedding—his bachelor party, we made a deal to get blind drunk, but I arrived late. When I opened the door, I was not met with cheers, but with three corpses stalled in motion. My body went limp as my mind went blank. The only thought left in my head was that I had to call the police. “I’m calling from Block 3, Unit 301 of Silkwood Gardens. My three friends are all dead!” On the other end of the line, a female police officer responded calmly, “Please stay calm and don’t touch anything. Keep the crime scene untouched. A team will arrive shortly.” This should have been a night of wild debauchery, but I was the only one left alive. I slowly ducked my head and smiled.

Desperate for money, I planned a livestream exploring the home of a notorious serial killer in the dead of night. I thought it would be nothing more than a publicity stunt to attract viewers. I was wrong. What started as a reckless grab for attention turned into the most terrifying night of my life and a brutal lesson in what it truly meant to stare death in the face.

I have spent ten years fighting against the fake heiress, Cynthia Powell, to secure the Powell family's inheritance. Eventually, we both set our sights on the eldest son of the wealthy Wright family, Robin Wright. In my first life, I secure the marriage, but on the very night the shares are transferred to my name, I die a gruesome death. Blood seeps from my eyes and mouth as I collapse. As I lie there dying, Robin calmly wipes the poisonous powder from his fingertips and smiles at me. "My apologies, Kathy Powell. You have to die for the sake of the woman I truly love." I repeatedly curse Cynthia in my heart. In my second life, I am determined to avoid being murdered by Cynthia and her lover. So, I pass the marriage opportunity over to Cynthia. On their wedding day, I'm relaxing at home with a face mask when the police burst through my door and handcuff me. "Cynthia's car was firebombed on the way to the wedding ceremony, and she was burned to a crisp. We found your fingerprints on the fuel tank. You're under arrest for arson and murder. Please come with us," the police orders. The news shocks me. I'm sentenced to death, all thanks to Robin's manipulation. When I wake up, I'm in my third life. After seeing the Wright family's marriage proposal on the table, Cynthia and I take a step back. A chill runs down both our spines. Robin is a curse. How is it that whoever marries him ends up dead?

In the backyard of my home, there is a dark red jar that is about half a person's height. It is half buried in the ground, and my whole family forbids me from going near it. But I hear someone inside the jar calling me over and over. That voice says, "Sis, I miss you so much."

My best friend's boyfriend was cheating, so I tagged along to bust him at a hotel. Fifteen hours until go time. Felicity Cook booked a room right next to Jake's, jaw tight. "They'll be here tonight. When the time comes, we'll catch them red-handed." Inside, I could barely keep my eyes open. She'd been a wreck since last night, and I hadn't slept a minute trying to keep her sane. Figured I had time, so I set an alarm and crashed. When I opened my eyes, a guy was lying next to me. Felicity kicked the door in and pointed at me. "Lydia Lloyd! I can't believe you betrayed me! You're my best friend! Why would you sneak around and steal my boyfriend?" I just stared, mind blank, trying to get words out. She snapped, yanked out a kitchen knife, and in front of everyone, drove it into me again and again. I hit the floor, drowning in my own blood, eyes stuck open like my body refused to let me go. I came here to catch a cheater—how did I end up the side chick? Then I blinked... and I was right back at the moment I first walked into that hotel with Felicity.

The protagonist of this story is a young adult fan of classic dice role-playing games; suddenly the protagonist awakens in a world of magic and fantasy in the body of the final Boss of a magical castle; Accompanied by his loyal Generals, the protagonist will experience the greatest adventure of his existence using the title of Witch-king as his middle name.

When my boyfriend claimed he was the final boss of a horror game, I laughed it off. What kind of terrifying final boss spends every day at home doing laundry, cooking meals, handing over all his money, and constantly clinging to his wife for affection? Then, one day, I entered the horror game myself. The infamous final boss, the one every player feared, pinned me against the headboard, slowly testing the limits of my body. He leaned close to my ear and whispered, “So? Do you believe me now?”

There's a saying that circulates among anglers: "If a dead fish still takes the bait… reel in and leave." The day I went fishing with my dad, we ran into exactly that. What unsettled me was not the fish. It was the look on my dad's face: an excitement that felt completely wrong. Then a message flashed across my livestream, and a chill ran down my spine. [Get out. Now. Your dad is about to trade your life for the one who died in this river a year ago.]

My daughter, Elise Dolton, got sick, so I rushed over to take care of her. The moment I stepped inside, a rotten stench hit me right in the face, so I offered to help clean the place up. Her roommates' faces dropped right away. "What smell, Mrs. Dolton? The place is fine." "If you think it's such a dump, then have Elise move out. Don't come in here acting like you're better than all of us. We're not putting up with that!" Even Elise shoved me impatiently. "If you’re here to visit, then just act like it. Stop making a scene and embarrassing me, okay?” They were all college roommates, splitting rent on a run-down unit in an old complex. When I went in, I noticed them gathered around a pot of spicy stew. The room was thick with steam and smoke, but it still couldn't cover that awful stench. Strangely, none of them seemed to notice it. Had something gone wrong with my sense of smell? That night, the smell was so overwhelming that I couldn't fall asleep. In the end, I realized the odor was coming from Elise herself. I hurried her into the bathroom and scrubbed her down over and over, but the smell didn't fade at all. It stayed just as strong. With no other option, I called a cleaner, planning to disinfect the entire place inside and out. But Elise's roommates felt offended and started arguing with me. In the chaos, someone shoved me. My temple slammed into the sharp corner of the coffee table, and I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I first walked through the door. The stench rushed at me all over again...

While we were eating, Tristan Shaw suddenly set down his fork and looked at me. “Who is Fatcat Cook?” The fork in my hand froze midair. My heart skipped a beat. Fatcat Cook. That name was someone Lena Moore and I made up on a drunken night. We had agreed that if anything ever went wrong and we couldn’t reach each other, we would use “Fatcat Cook” as a code. No one else knew that name existed. Only the two of us. And Lena had been missing for a full month. She said she was going to Valoria for a trip. Then she never came back. I looked at Tristan’s calm, almost indifferent face, and felt my heart sink. How did he know that name?