Death Of An Outsider の小説・ストーリー

"OMG, this is wild!" * It's strange. Usually, when the truth is revealed, people feel the most tension, the most emotion. But for me, there was nothing—no fear, no anger. I felt like an outsider, detached from it all, as I watched the reactions of everyone present with a sense of distance. Some were shocked, others skeptical, but none of it moved me. Instead, my thoughts wandered to the things I left unfinished—the manuscript I hadn't completed before my death, the kitten that had just regained its vitality, and the child that had died inside me, never fully formed, never to see the light of day.

Death was right, but the person who caused it would suffer from remorse until he died. Pictures taken of a beautiful birthday celebrated and a picture of a happy family... Demir looked at his watch while sitting on the terrace. It was : and tonight was the end. The day came when he would put his daughter alive in the grave. He took the last sip of his drink and stood up. She staggered to her daughter's room. He grabbed the door handle. He didn't have the courage to open it. He lowered the handle of the door and walked slowly towards his daughter. He was sleeping peacefully. He had told his daughter, his life, everything, one by one, about his plans for tomorrow. He listened and agreed, cryin

After coming out, he sank into the chair by the door, his legs heavy. Leaning back, he tilted his head to stare at the ceiling light and remained motionless for a long while. When Janice returned from buying personal supplies, she saw Jayson sitting there. The man who was usually so proud and aloof now radiated an indescribable loneliness. She didn't know what they had talked about, but she could vaguely guess that it probably hadn't ended well. Now that the baby was gone, even someone as headstrong as Jayson had likely been driven to the edge.

was a copy of me with my memories and my thought patterns, he was still a separate entity. If he were just an NPC generated by the game, then after getting blown up, he should reset and respawn in the next loop. But what if, in this death-loop game, he was an actual independent life form? What if he were someone like me, another player bound by the same rules? I rolled out of bed, rushed into the living room, and grabbed my phone from the corner. The whole process of my last death was recorded clearly on it. I watched myself die. Because gasoline vapor was actually more flammable than liquid gas, he actually died before I did. And then, after he died, I was burned alive by the gasoline.

“Outside now” The line went dead.

When Benji's funeral was over, I headed to the hospital right away. Rosalind Lane's son, Kenneth Young, resided in a VIP ward. His arm was bandaged, and he could be seen chatting with Rosalind and Joshua animatedly. Joshua's expression crashed instantly the moment he saw me. He hurried out of the ward afterward. "Who told you to come here? Kenny's condition has just stabilized! Don't cause trouble for us, now!" "Joshua Tucker, your son is dead, and yet all you care about is another woman's son!" I roared at Joshua hysterically, earning shocked looks from Rosalind and Kenneth.

A smear of crimson is on her lips, the drops I forced there with hands that were steadier than my conscience. There's no pulse. No breath. Her eyelashes rest against skin thats already turning pale. She's too still. It's not sleep. It's not unconsciousness. She's gone. I've seen thousands of people dead. Men killed on battlefields. Women burned in sanctuaries. Children thrown into plague pits like discarded clothes. Death doesn't interest me much anymore. This one does. I told myself to walk It's a practical.thought. If the blood doesn't work, the problem solves itself. If it takes hold, distance will keep judgment from clouding what needs to be done.

My wound was still bleeding rapidly. Due to my excessive blood loss, I had lost the ability to shout for help. However, I could still hear their voices. They were impatient. "Speak up. Are you dead?" Three consecutive calls, three were three chances, yet no one came to my rescue. I could clearly feel the murderer cutting into my skin with a knife and whispering in my ear. "It's Samantha's wedding today. It's your blessing to be able to use your blood to commemorate her." After cutting off my limbs bit by bit with a knife, he cut open my stomach. Blood flowed all over the floor. I was dead, completely dead.

The silence was deafening, and I was sure it would have been the same had we shared the same ride back home. I slowly turned to him, my anger only heightening even more with his perceived nonchalance. "You said she was the one who brought back the light in your life after your first wife cheated on you. You said she was the only one who..." "She is dead," he said, leaning forward to drop the cup of tea on the saucer. "You do not know her enough. You do not know her more than I do. She would have wanted this, too. She knows how much I sacrificed for the cartel."

Onyx Moon felt like a ghost town—its spirit gutted by the chaos of last night. I picked my way through the streets, boots crunching over glass and debris. Broken walls leaned precariously, the remains of homes and businesses crumbled in on themselves like fragile bones. The east wing of the hospital was little more than a charred skeleton, its shattered windows framing a scene of ruin. The bodies—too many bodies—had already been shrouded in cloth. But the weight of their loss lingered, heavier than the wreckage. Bill and Annie. Gone. One of the forsaken had survived, though just barely—the one who had killed Annie. It was subdued now, locked away in a secure cell with wolfsbane coursing thro