Contoh Sigma Male

I work as a security guard at a luxury residential complex.

Now that I've been accepted into a prestigious college, my family throws a college acceptance party for me. My older cousin, Jessica Boone, gives me a gift for the occasion—a scratch-off lottery ticket with half the numbers scratched already. But when she finds out that I won 20 dollars from the lottery ticket, she offers 200 thousand dollars to buy the ticket off me. Finding it strange, I refuse her offer. Jessica goes berserk. She starts cursing me out, telling me to go to hell. She even pushes me off the high-rise building right in front of all the guests at the party. The dozens of people in attendance, including my parents, staunchly support her actions and even start remarking that I deserve to die. My eyes open once more—I've gone half an hour back in time. Once again, Jessica mockingly tosses the scratch-off lottery ticket at me and says those familiar words to me.

There's an unspoken rule in my household—everyone has to engage in a drinking competition during the holidays. Whoever gets wasted first will have to pay off one year's worth of house and car mortgages for the other two siblings. In the first year, I collapsed after my first glass of alcohol. I had to pay the house mortgage for my oldest sister, Dahlia Zeller. In the second year, as soon as I picked up my glass, I fainted right away. Since then, I had to pay off Jasmine Zeller, my second sister's car loan. For the next 20 years, I've always been the loser. In the end, my wife, Jean McCarthy, is forced to jump off a building because of the huge debt I've racked up. The debtors keep dumping paint onto my residence, forcing me to deter away from it. Ransacked by guilt, I end up damaging my stomach from overdrinking when I attempt to train my alcohol tolerance. As a result, half of my liver has gotten removed. When I'm on the verge of death, I hear my parents snickering outside my ward. "Don't you think we've laced too many sleeping pills in his drink? He almost didn't wake up back then!" "It's fine. He's an idiot who merely thinks he has a low alcohol tolerance. Our family still relies on him for financial survival, you see. We can keep drugging him so that he'll keep getting wasted." When I open my eyes again, I've already gotten reborn in the timeframe when I'm sitting at the dining table in the 20th year.

On the eve of the National Robotics Championship, I smashed my carefully designed bot to pieces and announced my withdrawal. Everyone said I was a fraud who was quitting out of fear of being exposed. Online, the netizens mocked me relentlessly. Only one person, Adrian Cross, the so-called genius of the century, spoke up in my defense, his voice dripping with false sincerity, "I believe in River Lowell’s skills. Only he deserves to be my opponent. No matter what setbacks he’s facing, I hope he comes back to the arena and proves himself." In my previous life, the robot I built was identical to his. No matter how I tried to prove he had copied me, Adrian stood before the cameras, wearing his benevolent mask, and said, "It’s fine. This robot can go to River. I can always build something even better." His fans swarmed me, tearing me apart online, and no one believed in my talent. I swallowed the humiliation and vowed to rebuild my robot from scratch. However, when I was assembling it, the Power Core in my kit exploded, shattering my skull. That same night, I was rushed into the ICU. Netizens clapped and cheered, saying I got exactly what I deserved. That night, my girlfriend, Lila Hart, signed the hospital’s DNR consent form without hesitation. Until the day I died, I never understood how Adrian had gotten my robot’s data or why Lila had joined forces with him. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day of the competition.

In order to take care of my wife, Mildred Dale, who kept going into lunatic episodes thanks to the side effects of a car crash, I spent all of my assets and ten years of my life taking care of her. Whenever Mildred went into an episode, she'd hurl everything she could get her hands on at me. At the same time, she'd scratch every inch of my body with her nails. But when she sobered up, she'd hug me while wailing at the top of her lungs. All of my friends advised me to file for a divorce, yet I'd always remember the fact that Mildred had pushed me from the incoming car and hit her head, resulting in her current condition. But everything changed when Mildred beat me up to the point that I sustained grievous injuries. Heck, my soul was already floating near the ceiling at that time. That was when I saw Mildred arranging her childhood friend Hank Weaver's collar carefully. "Why are you crying? He's already dead. Shouldn't we celebrate this occasion instead? "But my heart breaks for you, Mildred. You've pretended to be a lunatic for ten whole years just to swindle every cent out of his account!" Mildred kissed Hank on the lips. Then, she uttered icily, "I've been enduring that cowardly fool for ten long years. Now, I no longer have to be with him." It turns out that Mildred and Hank had painstakingly staged the car accident just so they could put on such a perfect act. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day Mildred is diagnosed with mental health issues.

On the day of our ninth wedding anniversary, I sat in the empty living room and summoned the system I had not contacted in ages. "System, help me submit an application. I've decided to leave this world." The cold, mechanical voice came through, and somehow it sounded comforting. "Understood, Harry. Your departure application has been received. The space-time corridor is being constructed. I will come to retrieve you in one week." I hummed quietly and stared at my phone screen. A family photo of three stared back. In the photo, I stood in the center holding an adorable little girl. A beautiful woman stood beside me, kissing my cheek.

His hands gently pressed on her waist, caging her and drawing her closer. He brushed her lips softly with his parted ones. She leaned into him, surprised at how natural it felt to be held against him, the man who made her want to flee for the hills and strip naked at the same time. "Even if you were the only woman left in this world, I would never accept you as my mate." Blaze's eyes grew darker under the lighting, making Lilith squirm under his intense gaze. Lilith Venerelli is the daughter of the head warriors of the Blood Moon pack. The perfect rank, and perfect wolf, Lilith has her whole life planned, and mating with her boyfriend during the mating season would be the cherry on top. The day she turns eighteen, her world crumbles when she learns that she is no longer a warrior but a sigma, deemed the lowest of the pack. Alpha Blaze Westbrook is the future alpha of the Blood Moon pack. He always dreams of having the strongest she-wolf as his mate. His hope shatters when he finds that his mate is none other than the pack's sigma. Torn between the pack's principles and the mate pull, he is forced to disregard his mate. Will he be able to fight against the mate pull, or will he fight against his pack's principles and accept the pack's sigma as his mate?

As I fought a stray dog for a loaf of moldy bread, distinguished guests arrived at the orphanage. They'd come to find the long-lost heir of a wealthy family. After confirming their choice, they donated $100 million to the orphanage and handed out chocolates to every child. My mouth watered as I reached for a box, but glowing messages flashed before my eyes. [Lawrence, show your locket! They're here to bring you home!] [Don't let that impostor steal your birthright. It's yours!] They revealed the truth: the elegant couple were my biological parents, and the poised girl beside them was my fiancée. Yet I clutched my chocolate and ran, aware of their true purpose: they'd come here just for the fake heir. Even if I revealed my locket, they'd not pay me any attention.

The lab blew, and my girlfriend—Beatrice Whitmore—didn't even glance my way. She bolted straight for Joseph, wrapping herself around him. When the dust settled, she climbed into the ambulance with him. I was still on the ground, bleeding out, and she didn't spare me a look. Eighteen years raising him, and apparently, that was all the space her heart had left. My coworkers dragged me to the hospital. ICU, barely breathing. When I finally clawed my way out, throat raw, I called my advisor. "Prof. Beaumont, I'm in. I'll go. Even if it means disappearing for five years, I don't care." That was supposed to be my wedding month. Not anymore.

It was the apocalypse. A zombie apocalypse. We should've been running for our lives, but my girlfriend, Yvonne Brown, refused to. She wanted to buy as much time as she could for her incompetent childhood friend, Yves Claude, to hop into the last helicopter that would take survivors away. But the retreat was our group's only way to survive in this apocalypse. Yves was not showing up anytime soon. I had no choice but to knock her out and drag her into the chopper. And Yves, the one she could never seem to forget, died in the swarm of undead. I, however, survived thanks to what I did. Yvonne and I lived happily in a safe zone. And then that fateful day came. I was going to take over the territory and lead humanity on an attack against the zombies. The night before that decisive strike, Yvonne spiked my water with anesthetics. When I was caught helpless, she tossed me into the horde of zombies. The swarm of undead tore my flesh open, and the pain killed me. Yvonne? She stood on the wall coldly, a sneer decorating her lips. "Yves could've lived, but you took that chance away from him! You selfish monster, you killed Yves! I will make you suffer what he suffered! You'll pay for it with your life!" Death took me, but it tossed me all the way back to the day of the retreat. The day Yvonne adamantly insisted on waiting for Yves. Well, if she was so happy to live through a world like this with her friend, who am I to say no? I would grant her that wish, even if she would end up as zombie food.