Clean Freak Aoyama Kun

On the day of my mating ceremony with my Alpha mate, Derek, his childhood sweetheart Victoria returned. Victoria, using her supposed silver poisoning as an excuse for needing care, crashed our ceremony. She snatched my mate away, turning me into a laughingstock for the entire pack. Derek, seemingly unconcerned, said, "She's silver-poisoned. Her body's weak. Don't overthink it." He carried her to the pack healer, leaving me alone and humiliated. I yanked off the silver pendant he'd given me when he chose me as his mate. As I tossed it aside, it sliced my palm. To my horror, the small cut didn't heal. Instead, blood flowed freely. Because I was the one truly poisoned by silver. Derek didn't know. Months ago, during a rogue wolf attack, I'd taken a silver bullet meant for him. I survived, but my wolf lost her healing ability forever. Later, I overheard the usually strong and calm Alpha yelling at the pack healer, "How did you miss this? If anything happens to my Luna, none of you will survive!"

On the day of our engagement, my Alpha mate Kane mistakenly thought that my mom had seduced his dad and almost killed his mom. He canceled our ceremony and forced me, who was eight months pregnant, to jump into the silver pit. Kane hated me for three years, and threatened me with my child to be the most humble slave in his pack, watching him and other women make love. "Aria, you destroyed my family! I will never let you go in this life!" Finally, I accepted my fate and stopped resisting, letting the guards throw me into the silver pit. However, when Kane found out that those things had nothing to do with me, he went completely crazy looking at the pool of blood in the silver pit.

Natalie used to hate stuffed animals. Now she's head-over-heels for a cotton doll. She called it "honey" and told our daughter, Yara, it was her real dad. Cool. Guess that made me the family ghost. At Yara's parent-teacher conference, I finally snapped and handed Natalie the divorce papers. Cue the gasps. Suddenly, I'm the villain. She slapped me—full drama mode. "It's just a doll! Why are you being so extra?" Yara hugged it like it was about to save the world, giving me the death stare. I shrugged, smirking. "You're the one who said it's your dream husband and Yara's one and only dad. So, like... why am I still here?"

After receiving the report for an STD test, I went back to the barbeque restaurant, and there I ran into a young woman who was about three months pregnant. She asked me to let her cut in line, and, feeling sorry for her, I agreed to help her out. I quickly made arrangements for her and made sure she had a seat. But to my shock, after she finished her meal, she had a miscarriage. The girl posted about the incident online, and before I knew it, I was trending on social media, facing a wave of cyberbullying. The internet users went even further, digging up my health records and finding that everything came back positive. [She's positive for everything—she's clearly a woman with a messy private life!] [No wonder she caused the woman's miscarriage just by being near her—she's a biological hazard!] The cyberbullying got so bad that it pushed me into depression. Even my fiancé turned against me, accusing me of being filthy and breaking up with me. The emotional weight became too much, and in my pain, I drove straight into a reservoir. Meanwhile, the girl gained millions of followers online and skyrocketed to fame as a popular influencer. It was only after I died that I learned the shocking truth—this girl was my fiancé's first love. To boost her own popularity, she and my fiancé had come up with this entire scheme together. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day when she asked me to let her cut in line.

It was the holiday season and I was on my way home when the traffic on the highway came to a standstill. Suddenly, a Maybach came speeding down the emergency lane and slammed right into my car. The driver jumped out and started yelling, jabbing his finger in my face. “Are you blind?! Don’t you know cars turning should yield to those going straight?” I frowned. “My car broke down and this is where I’m supposed to be. You’re the one who broke the traffic laws, yet you’re blaming me for this?” “Traffic laws?” he scoffed, full of arrogance. “I’m the law in Jacksboro City. That Volkswagen piece of junk you’re driving is not even worth one of my Maybach’s tires!” Then he pulled out a baseball bat and smashed it down on my car. He even threatened to break my legs and demanded compensation. I sneered. “Sure, this may be a Volkswagen… but why don’t you take a closer look at the special clearance permit on the windshield?”

My son was kidnapped by rogue wolves during training. Ethan used all his connections as Beta to finally locate him in an abandoned hunting lodge. When I burst through the door, Tyler was already lying on the ground. His chest was a bloody mess, his heart ripped out completely. I chased after the rogue wolves like a mad she-wolf, desperate to retrieve his heart, but I was too late. Unable to bear the devastation, I collapsed and fell from the cliff edge. Ethan carried me to the pack healer's den, his face deathly pale. Before the healing ritual began, he gripped my hand tightly, his voice trembling: "Serena, you can't give up. Our son is already gone. I can't lose you too..." But when I regained consciousness, I found an anonymous text message on my phone. I opened it and heard a recording. "Beta Gray, you have already found another heart donors. Why specifically choose young Tyler? He's so young, and he's your son..." "He was just a tool to save Lucas. I raised him all these years—taking one heart isn't too much to ask, is it?" "Besides, the pack healer said a blood relative's heart has the smallest chance of rejection. Lucas is mine and Vivian's life. I can't bear to see him suffer even a little." My entire body shook violently. I could barely hold the phone. The man who repeatedly claimed to love me was the murderer who killed my son for his illegitimate child with his mistress. The marriage I thought was happy was nothing but an elaborate deception.

My wife, Valerie Larson, had a congenital heart condition. Despite that, she still wanted to have a child with her first love, Eugene Dyer. I refused without a second thought. Ten months later, Eugene's mother, Susan Turner, passed away. Her eyes were still wide open as if refusing to accept death without ever holding her grandchild. Overcome with guilt for failing his mother, Eugene took his own life in his small, rundown apartment. Valerie, consumed by grief and anger, took us on a road trip, only to crash the car head-on into a truck without hesitation. She shouted, "It's your fault Eugene died! If you had let me give him a child, he never would have ended up like that! His whole family is gone, so yours doesn't deserve to live either!" When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day Valerie first asked to have Eugene's child. This time, I forced a small smile and said, "Darling, go ahead. Our whole family will support you."

My twin sister, Audrey Goodwin, was obsessed with romance novels about rich heirs. All she wanted was to marry into money and live like some perfect socialite. She set her sights on the silver-spoon scion in Jezelton, Michael Strickland, who'd been blind after a car accident. Audrey got close by becoming his private nurse. But she got tired of the work really quickly. So, she asked me to cover for her. When Michael finally got his eyesight back and held a huge celebration, Audrey decided to drug him so she could slide right into the role of Mrs. Strickland. I didn't stop her this time. I even went as far as booking her a luxury suite so she could carry out her plan. In my last life, I had begged Audrey not to go through with it. I told her romance novels weren't real life, and guys like Michael were way too powerful to mess with. She had actually listened and canceled the plan. But a little while later, the news broke: Michael secretly got married. It turned out that he'd been with someone else that very night. Just like that, Audrey's big fantasy was gone. She blamed me for ruining her "dream". My parents blamed me as well; they beat me and yelled at me, saying Audrey couldn't marry Michael now because of me. One night, Audrey snapped. She came into my room with a hammer and beat me to death. Now, I had been given another chance. I woke up right on the night of Michael's recovery party.

In my previous life, my boyfriend's younger sister came to the CT room for a check-up. As always, I asked the routine questions about whether she was pregnant or planning to be within the next six months. After all, CT scans involve radiation. It could harm the fetus. She had confidently said no. However, when I handed her the consent form to sign, her face suddenly changed. She immediately pulled out her phone and called my boyfriend, claiming I was putting on airs and making things difficult for her. Soon after, my boyfriend called me. “Don’t make things difficult with my sister over something so trivial. You’re putting me in the middle. I swear on my life she’s not pregnant!” Trusting him, I skipped the consent form and went ahead with the scan. However, the results clearly showed she was pregnant, and not just newly. His family dragged me into court. I lost everything, buried under debt. In the end, I died from the scorching heat while hauling bricks at a construction site. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day his sister came in for her check-up.

My mother is a hospital director. To give my brother, an intern doctor, more hands-on experience, she assigns him as the lead surgeon for my brain tumor operation. I beg her to let someone else do it and tell her it's my only chance at survival. But she slaps me hard across the face and screams, "How did I raise such a selfish, ungrateful child? Your brother has just started his internship—can't you help him improve his skills? Is that too much to ask?" Later, the surgery fails. I die on the operating table. And my mother seems to have aged decades overnight.