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Island From Hell: Tamed by a False System

Island From Hell: Tamed by a False System

After I get abducted to Paradise Island, I've attempted escape twice so far in order to avoid becoming the rich's plaything. The first time I get caught, on that very same night, I receive a video of my fiancee, Lucille Hoffman, getting torn into pieces by a school of piranhas. The second time I get caught, my older sister, Edith Cox, whom I've relied on since I was young, gets mutilated by the kidnappers on a cruise ship. Driven by despair, I agree to bind myself to a system. "As long as you earn enough points, you can revive your lover and your sister." From that day onward, I shed my pride and ego. I allow the electrified collar to dig deep into my neck. I keep getting tormented time and again until I lose consciousness. After undergoing yet another organ transplant that's forced onto me, I stare at the points, which are enough for me to revive Lucille and Edith. That's when a trace of hope emerges from my heart. Just as I'm about to hit the "confirm" button with a trembling finger, I hear a burst of laughter coming from a corner. "That idiot actually thinks he's bound to a system! He's still working hard to gather points just to revive his sister and his fiancee! Little does he know that Paradise Island, their deaths, as well as the system, are all big fat lies!" "I know, right? The rich really have a way of grooming people, huh? Apparently, Ms. Cox and Ms. Hoffman faked their deaths and created a fake system for this guy just because he had slapped Mr. Trenton back then and refused to apologize to him or admit his mistake. That's why they put on this act in order to teach him a lesson and make him yield to them." "Shh! Drop this topic for now! Ms. Cox and Ms. Hoffman are here to check on the training progress…" I feel as though I've plunged into an icy abyss. My ears begin ringing from shock and disbelief. That's when the poison I've taken in advance starts kicking in. Before I know it, blood begins streaming down the corner of my mouth uncontrollably. Just as my vision is going dark, someone kicks the door open.
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Working Off a Fake Debt

Working Off a Fake Debt

To afford train tickets home for New Year's Eve, I searched for a part-time job and stumbled into a livestream that was practically throwing money at the chat. A young woman in a silk robe rested her chin on her hand. Behind her, a villa glowed under expensive lighting that reflected off polished marble floors. "Being kept in here is suffocating," she said in a voice that mixed boredom with sweetness. "My sponsor gives me more money than I can spend. Help me out. Take some off my hands." Cash drops flashed across the screen one after another. I tapped as fast as I could, my heart hammering. A few large ones landed in my account. I was close. One more would cover both my ticket and my boyfriend's. The streamer leaned closer to the camera. "He keeps saying my tear mole looks like his girlfriend's," she said, her mouth twisting with disgust. "So unlucky. Of all things, I had to match with some broke girl." My finger slipped. I had a tear mole under my eye in the same spot. The live chat flooded with questions. [How is the sponsor's girlfriend broke?] The streamer gave a short snort and reapplied her lipstick, as if correcting a minor flaw. "He's just messing around. He tricked her into 200,000 dollars in debt. She's so stupid she works multiple jobs to help him pay it off." A chill settled in my chest. My boyfriend also owed 200,000 dollars. She continued, her tone light, "The funniest part? He slept with me for three days. When he left, I asked if he was giving her a taste of honey." She smiled cruelly. "He said all he has to do is claim he's going to work a construction site hauling rebar. The idiot will feel guilty and deliver food all night. So he won't need to please her." Another large cash drop flashed across the screen. The total reached the exact amount I needed. My phone rang. Benjamin's name lit up the display. When I answered, his voice sounded worn down, as if it had scraped against concrete. "Via, we still don't have enough for the tickets," he said. "I hauled rebar and made a little over 40 dollars. I'm heading home now."
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