Chord Imagination

Ma petite sœur et moi avons eu la chance de renaître dans un monde d'Hommes-Bêtes. Leur Dieu nous a laissé choisir notre identité. La première option : devenir une Femme-Bête, dotée d'une force puissante et d'une silhouette robuste et vigoureuse. La deuxième option : devenir une Sainte, bénéficiant de la capacité de procréer entre de différentes races et d'une silhouette élancée et séduisante. Dans notre vie précédente, pour survivre, ma petite sœur avait choisi de devenir Femme-Bête, tandis que j'étais devenue une Sainte, faible et délicate. Et le résultat ? Elle était rejetée par les hommes, jugée pas assez douce et féminine. Moi, en revanche, grâce à mon corps menu et gracieux, j'avais conquis les trois Hommes-Bêtes les plus puissants et les plus beaux de la tribu, devenant leur préférée. Plus tard, ils étaient devenus les rois de la forêt primitive, et moi, leur déesse, rayonnante de gloire. Rongée par une jalousie dévorante, ma sœur m'avait poussée dans un marais empoisonné. De toutes mes forces, j'avais planté un dard toxique dans son corps, l'entraînant avec moi dans la mort. Quand j'ai rouvert les yeux, nous étions de retour au moment crucial où le Dieu nous demandait de choisir. Cette fois-ci, elle s'est précipitée pour s'emparer du rôle de Sainte. « Rosalie, cette fois, c'est moi qui serai la déesse ! Par pitié, je te laisse ces trois hommes infâmes et impotents. » J'ai réprimé à grand-peine la joie qui explosait en moi. Être enfermée pour servir de ventre reproducteur, quel intérêt ? Il fallait savoir que, dans ce monde primitif, c'était la force qui faisait la loi !

J'ai acheté un incube beau et distant en ligne. Mais il n'arrêtait pas de produire ce bourdonnement bas, restant simplement là, à me fixer en silence. Son corps était brûlant. Inquiète qu'il soit peut-être malade, je me suis empressée de contacter le service client. Après avoir écouté ma description, la personne à l'autre bout du fil est restée silencieuse un moment. Puis elle a dit : « Euh... est-il possible que votre incube ne soit pas malade ? Il a juste faim, il a peut-être envie de vous embrasser, ou... de faire autre chose ? »

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen before cornered me in the parking lot and beat me half to death. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard my sister's voice right by my ear. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you? Thought you were so smart… but you never figured out I was the one controlling that number over your head." The truth hit me like a physical blow. The score had been her trick all along. I opened my eyes—and I was back. One month before the SATs. The number above my head read exactly 1300. "Hey," my sister said, all fake sweetness. "Want to study together tonight? We can go over the practice tests." I looked at the stack of papers in my own hands. Without a word, I pulled out my lighter and set them on fire right there in the driveway. "Exams are coming," I said, watching the flames. "I'm not studying." My score ticked up to 1310. My sister's face was this perfect mask of disappointment, but the second I turned away, I caught the sly smile she couldn't quite hide. She had no idea… the real performance, the one I'd been rehearsing just for her, was finally about to begin.

My adopted brother made a name for himself during the potion competition by using a potion he had stolen from me. No one expected the competition to be a ruse, but it turned out to be a scheme to find a husband for the serpent clan's youngest princess. She was born barren, cruel, and hideous. That very night, the serpent clan delivered a marriage contract, demanding that the creator of the potion take the princess as his wife. When my fiancée heard the news, she panicked and bonded with my adopted brother on the spot. After sealing their bond, he lifted his shirt, proudly showing me the wolf mark carved into his back. "Your fiancée's mine now, bro. What are you going to do? You'll turn twenty-five in three days. If no one marries you by then, you'll be randomly matched to one of those older, violent nomad beastwomen." He was wrong. I still had one choice left. I found my parents in the front hall, once again cleaning up the mess he had made. "If he won't marry the serpent princess," I said, "then I will."

On the day of our wedding, my fiance Thomas Warsh was killed in a car accident on the way there. His adopted sister rushed toward me, clutching his ashes, accusing me of being a jinx who brought him misfortune. I was drowning in grief when a line of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes. [You must remain a widow for three years for your deceased husband. After three years, he will be reincarnated and return to love you again!] [Don’t ever remarry. Otherwise, the male lead will never rest in peace, and you will suffer for the rest of your life!] That was when I learned that my fiancé and I were the hero and heroine of a novel. Only by following the spoilers in the comments and completing the storyline could I reunite with him. I did not remarry. Guided by the comments, I remained a widow for three years, and then another three. However, it was not until I suddenly died from a severe illness that I discovered the truth–the comments had all been written by Thomas. He had faked his death, changed his appearance, married his adopted sister, and fed me endless empty promises so I would continue to slave away for the Warsh family. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day before the wedding.

After the great war between humans, vampires, werewolves, and elves, an agreement was made that hybrid offspring would rule the world. Every century, alliances through marriage between humans and those three clans would decide the next ruler. Whoever bore the first hybrid child would claim power for their line. In my previous life, I chose to marry Jax, the eldest son of the werewolf pack, known for his fierce loyalty. I gave birth to our hybrid son, a white-furred pup we named Zeal. Our child became the next world ruler, and Jax gained immense power. My sister had lusted after the elves' beauty and married into their clan. But the elf prince slept with every female in the forest. In the end, my sister caught a disease that left her barren. Jealous and bitter, she set a fire that burned me and my young pup alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the racial alliances. My sister had already slept with Jax first. I knew she had been reborn too. But she didn't know that Jax was brutally savage with his mates, having torn countless she-wolves apart in his bed during his ruts.

[Damn it! She's obviously a scheming wretch. She's trying to seduce the male lead while the female lead is away. She's so eager to be the mistress, and she even called him Sir? Just go to hell already.] [Did you forget? There's no way the male lead would fall for such low-level tricks. He only cares about his precious niece. The male lead and the female lead's fathers were best friends. They're not blood-related. Those two are destined to marry each other!] [Hey, don't forget that the male lead also loves cats. Haha! He's an ailurophile.]

After being reborn into a new world, the system assigned me four male leads and a mission to complete. As long as I successfully won over one of them, I would be able to come back to life, as I had died in a car accident in my original world. However, I failed with all four. Every one of them fell in love with the female lead of that world instead. Because of that, they turned their hostility toward me, hurling cruel words and even telling me to die. In the end, I failed my mission, and I chose to leave that world. Only when they saw my body did they completely break down.

Dans notre vie antérieure, ma sœur Annick Dubost et moi avions recueilli deux œufs magiques. Le sien avait donné naissance à un Serpent de Glace, le mien à un Phénix de Feu. Elle s'était emparée sans vergogne de mon Phénix, mais l'Apocalypse de la Chaleur était survenue. Alors qu'Annick mourait de chaud, elle avait convaincu mon propre mari, ce Serpent de Glace, de m'étrangler. Mais le destin nous avait ramenés pourtant au jour de l'éclosion. Cette fois, Annick a choisi l'œuf du Serpent de Glace, certaine qu'il la protégerait de la fournaise. Mais elle ignorait un détail crucial : pour conserver ses pouvoirs, un Serpent de Glace devait boire du sang frais… chaque jour.

I was just about to drink a soup meant to supplement my pregnancy, a frantic voice suddenly called out. "Mommy, don't drink it! It's an abortion drug. Someone's trying to harm you!" Startled, my hand jerked, and I knocked the soup over. My husband's cousin teared up, her voice choking, "B-But I cooked that soup myself as an apology…" I didn't pay her any heed, only checking the contents of the medicinal soup. There was a large amount of poison in it, enough to not just harm the baby, but even make it impossible for me to ever conceive again! "Mommy, it was me! I protected you!" I caressed my pregnant belly, listening as the child inside told me that he was the incarnation of a lucky star, sent to bring me good fortune. Because of this, we even gave him the nickname Lucky. And sure enough, under his guidance, I helped my husband secure numerous contracts. The whole family was overjoyed. I grew to love him even more, consuming precious supplements as if they were free. Within just three months, my family's assets grew tenfold, while I grew thirty pounds. Just as I stuffed the roast pork into my mouth, I heard a weak, faint voice. "Mom, don't listen to him! He was switched into your womb, and he stole my good luck! "If you continue listening to him, he'll be the death of us both after he's born!" Confused, I stopped eating. Who was I to believe, when there were two voices within my womb?