Death Note: New World

Lily Peterson's childhood sweetheart, Sean Clements, ran over my 70-year-old mother in his car while he was drunk-driving. Because of that, Mom died on the spot. But Lily insisted on signing the letter of forgiveness for Sean. "My mother-in-law had planned on scamming Sean for more money, so she lay beneath the wheels on purpose. She should be the one taking on the entire responsibility." Not only did Sean get released as an innocent man, but he also received the ten-million-dollar payment given by the insurance company as compensation for his emotional distress. "Honey, I grew up with Sean since we were kids. I can't just sit by and watch his life get ruined by imprisonment! Can't you be more gracious and stop bringing this issue up?" After leaving the police station, Sean uploads a post on his social media feed in a high-profile manner. "Lily looks so gorgeous when she defends me in front of others! Childhood sweethearts will always be the closest people in life!" Lily leaves a like on Sean's post right in front of me. I remain eerily calm. "Let's get a divorce, Lily." She huffs coldly in return. "You just want me to console you, right? Tristin Foley, you're already 30 years old. Can you stop being childish?" I've already brought up divorce multiple times in the past. That's why Lily refuses to believe that I will leave her for real. But what she doesn't know is that I've snuck in a divorce agreement into the documents meant for the case closure registration, and she has personally left her signature there.

My son is dead. He dies in a cramped toilet cubicle after having his skull smashed in. My husband, the school principal, arrives on the scene. The first thing he does is carry his true love's son, the one who killed my son, into an ambulance. They hurriedly leave. Before his death, my son tells me, "Don't cry, Mom. I'm not sad that Dad doesn't believe me. It's enough that you do…" I call Joshua Tucker during my son's funeral. He roars angrily, "Kenny had to get two stitches on his arm because of your son! If you keep pestering me like this, I'll beat him up when I get home!" My son? I look at the gaping hole in my son's head, the one that won't ever bleed anymore. I shut my eyes. Yes, he's my son. My son is dead, Joshua. From now on, there's nothing between us.

One night, my family sat together watching the New Year’s Eve Live on television. My little sister, Stella Larson, said she had to pee and hurried to the washroom. Half an hour later, she still had not returned. When I went to check on her, the washroom was empty. “When did Stella leave the washroom?” I asked my parents. Both of them were stunned for a moment before feeling my forehead and saying, “What are you talking about? You’re an only child. Who is Stella?” They forcibly pulled me back to my seat. My mind went blank. Did the three of them just pull a prank on me? After finishing his drink, my father clutched his stomach and rushed into the washroom. I stared fixedly at the washroom door. A long time passed, but no one came out. My father had vanished, too. My hand trembled as I pointed at the bathroom. My mother stepped forward to go in. “Don’t go in! Dad and Luna disappeared in there!” My mother looked grief-stricken as she said, “Sweetie, it’s been just the two of us for the past twenty-plus years, remember?” Her words hit me hard. I was in total disbelief. I explained myself frantically, but the more I spoke, the more confused my mother became. She finally shook me off and said, “Why are you doing this to me? I’ve raised you your whole life! Why do you have to ruin New Year’s Eve?” She walked straight into the washroom, and the house soon fell into a dead silence. Terrified, I called my best friend, Kathy Scott, who lived nearby. I rambled incoherently as I begged her for help. But her words utterly crushed me. “What family members? You’re an orphan.” I hung up the phone, rushed out, and pounded frantically on the neighbors’ door.

WOKE UP SERIES: BOOK II I’ve been wishing to see the world end… but why do I felt this way now I see it for myself? Running as if my life depends on it, every alley and corner I turned into, I tried my best not to slip and get caught. Hah, it seems like I would pass out due to exhaustion any time soon! Never once in my life did I run away like this! Damn it! With this fat body of mine, surely there is no hope! How can a shut in person like me can even do running in laps. I thought that I was strong a while ago but it seems like I was just over reacting. Dang 'No no no noooo they will catch up on me shit!' Why did I even come in this situation in the first place!? What hell!! . . . [Day 1 Quest: Would you like to see it?]

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

Liesa Valtieri was just a psychology assistant—nothing glamorous. When her supervising therapist passed on a case, Liesa took it up. That decision dragged her into a long-term, hands-on job: fixing the emotional blind spots of business tycoon Angus Romano’s fractured personalities, one world at a time. --- **World One: The CEO and His Personal Doctor** Angus reclined dramatically on the hospital bed, eyes dark. "You only lost love," he rasped, "but I lost a leg." Liesa glanced at his chart, then his uninjured limbs. "...Angus, it's just mild discomfort in your right leg." He stared at her. "If you don't love me, this leg can go." She rubbed her temples. "I love you. Happy now?" He smiled, instantly healed. --- **World Two: Prison Kingpin and Rookie Guard** "Do you like me?" he asked, casually. Liesa didn't hesitate. "No." He nodded. "Alright. Then I'll escape tonight." "...Wait..." --- **World Three: Noble Lady and Her Devoted Attendant** Liesa handed him a book. "I want you to study more," she said. "Grow up educated. Contribute to society." The attendant hugged her waist. "No," he said calmly. "I just want to stay with you and sleep." "..." --- **World Four: Heiress Wife and Her Husbands… Plural?** Angmar Romano crossed his arms. "I'm Liesa's husband," he said. "The wedding was ruined by a certain jerk." Across the room, Durgus smirked. "Sorry. First come, first served." Liesa stared at them both. "...OMG," she muttered, "two Mr. Romonos? And they're twins?" --- **World Five: City Lord's Wife and Her Scheming Husband** Angus sighed, voice full of regret. "I've only wanted one thing," he said. "To be a kind, harmless man." Liesa, speechless, replied, "Could you put down the knife on my neck first?"

In the midst of a bustling metropolis, Sumire, a diligent and determined orphan with an insatiable thirst for knowledge, is engrossed in her studies while seated on a park bench under the radiant rays of the summer sun. It is here that she met a five-year-old boy, who unbeknownst to her, will change the course of her destiny. Mort, her fated mate, is an enigmatic vampire whose heart is captured at the very first glimpse of Sumire. Little does she realize that a world of supernatural beings surrounds her, as Mort's obssesion and desire for her sets into motion a series of events that will forever alter her life's trajectory. Their initial meeting serves as the threshold to an unknown realm, one inhabited by lurking monsters whose predatory instincts unveil a perilous threat. On a fateful night, beneath the crimson shroud of intimacy, that Mort awakens Sumire's dormant memories and primal thirst for blood. This awakening occurs whilst their enemies lurk menacingly outside their bedroom door, launching an unsuspecting assault on the bounty placed upon her head. How will Sumire navigate this newfound reality, where the tales of mere mortals pale in comparison? Will she be able to unravel the enigma of her own existence before it engulfs her?

"If life has a physical form, I would've planned a revenge, but life has none. So I'll just move on to the life's most beloved... the world." - Kirsten Mosqueda --- School's Mister friendly, Tyson Guevarra, finds a strange notebook sitting on the chair of the bus stop. Out of curiosity, he picked it up only to find a strange letter entitled 'When the f***ing world ends.' Intrigued as to how and why did the owner wrote the letter. He plans to get closer to her, oblivious to the fact that every step he take exposes him into a great danger. ------- DISCLAIMER This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Story started: 060921 Store ended: --/--/--

I died five years ago. Now my husband, the Don of our Mafia family, wants me to take the fall for his sister again—this time for accidentally killing a British noble's heir during an arms deal. He's holding a fake confession letter with my forged signature, storming into my old apartment in the rust district, only to find it empty. Frustrated, he grabs the corner store owner downstairs, demanding to know where I am. The owner pauses, wiping his hands on his apron, calmly tells him: "Serafine? She died five years ago." "Heard it was retaliation from a rival family during the gang war. They ambushed her in an alley... shot her over a dozen times. She died immediately." My husband, Lucien, refuses to believe it. Convinced the owner is on my payroll, hiding me to help me escape his reach. He scoffs, his eyes filled with scorn: "Oh, so what? Because I called her out for messing up that last job, now she's throwing a tantrum?" "You tell her, if she doesn't come back and take the fall in three days, I'll revoke her grandmother's 'special family protection'! Let the old woman rot!" With that, he storms out, his rage still simmering. The owner watches him leave and sighs, shaking his head. "There's no grandmother left to protect... That woman passed away not long after Serafine did... couldn't survive the winter without our family's medical supplies and protection..."

On my birthday, Connor Simpson's first love jumped off a building due to depression. She died on the spot. Connor blamed everything on me. I never celebrated my birthday again after she died. After the murderer electrocuted me for more than ten hours, they forced me to call Connor. "Connor, it's my 25th birthday today. Can you come over and spend time with me?" However, Connor did not notice anything unusual. His voice was laced with venomous iciness. "Clarisse Winter, Audrey wouldn't have died if it weren't for you. How dare you ask me to celebrate your birthday? If only you were the one who died." I heard him coaxing a woman on the other end just before he hung up on me. That low and gentle tone was what I loved to hear the most in the past. That night, the murderer cut my body into countless pieces, packed them in bags, and threw them in front of the police station. Connor was summoned back overnight. He spent two days and two nights piecing together the body parts, but he did not realize that the dead person was the wife that he hated the most.