Eye System Novels & Stories

A hell-recycle world within the modern world, designed for death or near-death individuals. With the greenhouse effect resulting in instability in hell, access to hell becomes restricted, and the game keeps the new souls busy while offering them a second chance to return to their lives before death, depending on their performance. A six-digit cash prize is awarded to the winning participants, with rewards ranging from reversed choices and time manipulation to wealth and more. The 100 Doors Challenge System was designed purposely for this world, to keep the growing audience (already existing souls) entertained. Chosen participants must die beautifully at each door. The fancier and more tragic the death, the higher the views. The story alternates between real-world broadcast control rooms, digital death arenas, and fragmented dreamlike worlds designed from Author Willa’s traumas, fears, and regrets and those of the participating ghosts. 100 Doors: Die Fabulously for the Audience. This story contains graphic adult themes, including explicit sexual content, psychological tension, dark humour, trauma, and scenes of coercion and moral ambiguity. It explores mature, disturbing, and emotionally intense situations within a fantasy-system setting. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

I suspected my husband was a detached ascetic. Every night, he'd skip to the backyard, muttering prayers under the stars instead of sharing our bed. When I slipped into something slinky, he'd frown and clutch his prayer beads like a lifeline. Now I was done with the cold shoulder, slapping a divorce agreement in his hands. That was when his thoughts started leaking into my head. "She touched me. Her hands are like silk. I'm dying to kiss her. When is she gonna be okay with me being a snake? I just want to cuddle her." "A snake?" I thought. "Does that mean he's packing two things? I have to find out." I leered at his chiseled frame, practically drooling. Before divorcing, I needed to test his things and my limits. I tripped purposefully and fell onto his toned pecs, ready to test the waters. "Whoops!" I gasped, setting the stage.

I had been dating Lily Foster for three years, and she strictly insisted on splitting every expense. When my mother needed surgery and I was short twenty thousand dollars, she looked troubled. “Aaron, we agreed on financial independence.” I went everywhere trying to borrow money, while she turned around and bought her brother a Ferrari outright. When I confronted her, she answered without a hint of guilt. “That’s my money. What does it have to do with you? “And besides, you’re a man. You can’t always expect a woman to support you, right?” Her brother drove the sports car right up in front of me, showing off. “My sister said it herself—your money is her money, but her money is still hers.” I laughed. Because just a moment ago, I had activated the “Malice Cashback” system. For every trace of hostility someone directed at me, I would receive a hundredfold cash return. Lily stood in front of me, frowning in disgust. “What are you laughing at? You look like an idiot.” [Ding! Received 20 hostility points from Lily Foster. Cashback of $2,000 has been credited.]

In the third year after my death, the one who remained faithfully by my wife's side was still the bionic robot I had painstakingly designed. It looked exactly like me and carried within it every detail of my mannerisms, speech, and habits. The only difference was that it never lost its temper with her. Because of that, my wife never sensed anything amiss. Yet each night, she brought home a different man, deliberately testing "me," desperate to see the wild jealousy and rage I once wore so vividly. Then, one day, her childhood sweetheart and first love, shoved "me" off the balcony. It was only then, in her horror, that my wife realized… "I" didn't bleed.

I have the potential to win the championship of the math competition, and yet I hand in a blank answer sheet during the exam. In my previous lifetime, I was known as the math prodigy. But no matter which competition I participated in, my boyfriend's childhood friend, Alyssa Ford, would always score an extra 20 marks more than my score. I refused to believe that Alyssa could best me all the time, so I performed extraordinarily well in the math competition. Just as I thought I'd come out as the champion, Alyssa still scored 20 marks more than my current score. Thanks to her outstanding results, she stole the title that was supposed to be mine. Since I couldn't become the champion, I lost the prize money the school had promised to give me. Naturally, I broke down emotionally because I planned on using the money on my parents' life-saving surgery for their cancer. My parents ended up dying in the end. Unable to handle the blow, I took my life shortly afterward. Even when I breathed my last, I could never figure out why Alyssa could score 20 marks more than my scores no matter how hard I tried. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before the math competition is to take place.

For five years, I pursued the heir of the throne, Christof. One day, a large chunk of text floated in the sky. [Sweetheart, stop being so stubborn. That useless prince isn’t worth it.] [Just look at Prince Harald. He’s had a crush on you for the longest time!] I turned to look at the unruly Harald. He stiffened as his face turned dark. “Why are you staring at me? Go find your precious Christof.” [You fool. You’ve been hugging your pillow at night while saying her name.] [This is how you lose a wife.] [Mr. Ladies’ Man, you’ve fallen speechless around Louisa this whole time, haven’t you?!] I cautiously handed him the elderflower wine I had brewed myself. He snatched it from me and said, “Oh, so you noticed I’m thirsty? Good. You’re not completely useless.”

For as long as I could remember, a family scorecard hung by our front door like a corporate dashboard. At the end of the semester, my older sister Ava ranked first in her class, and Dad stuck a bright gold star beside her name. I had studied until my eyes burned, but my score still came in exactly three points lower than hers. Dad shook his head in disappointment and drew a huge red mark beside my name. "Mia, do you know how much money you cost this family this month?" He tapped at his calculator and said in a cold, businesslike tone, "Tutoring, supplements, private coaching. Five thousand dollars altogether. Terrible return on investment." "Starting next month, your allowance is in the negative by two thousand. You can work it off by taking over every chore in this house." Ava's eyes curved into a smile. "Mia, according to the performance rules, starting today you have to handle my laundry for a whole year." I clenched my fists, but all I could do was nod. That night, I hid in the bathroom and searched how to raise grades fast. A strange forum link flashed onto my screen. "Do you want to make a trade?" "Give up what is yours. Receive what you desire." "Tap to begin."

My wife's family ran on the old logic: sons mattered, daughters were a tax. They called my five-year-old daughter "the cash drain" to her face. On New Year's Day, my wife told me my daughter was donating a kidney to her cousin. I was about to lose it on every adult in that room when something appeared in the air in front of me, a column of text only I could see: [Is this woman seriously the mother? She says it's a kidney transplant, but she actually wants the kid's heart.] [If I had a mom like that I'd have cut her off years ago.]

On the day Steven, my husband, died in battle, Luke, my only son, was kidnapped by human traffickers. Wendy, my mother-in-law, cursed at me. My parents blamed me for it. Even the villagers said I deserved it. While I was consumed by grief, Wendy suggested I take in an abandoned baby to continue the family line. Just as I was about to agree to it, words suddenly appeared in front of me. [The villainess wouldn’t ever expect the male protagonist to actually be alive, right? Does she know that he’s with the female protagonist?] [That’s right. Even the news about her son being kidnapped was fake!] I was confused. Before I could make sense of it, I saw more words. [Honestly, the villainess is pretty pitiful. Her husband faked his death because he likes her sister! Even her son isn’t her own flesh and blood.] [That’s not all. The abandoned baby is actually the protagonists’ son! When she brings up the boy and sends him to university, the protagonists will reunite with their son and be a happy family.] [It can’t be helped. It’s her fault for being the villainess. She can only be a stepping stone for the protagonists.] I was stunned. I was only to be a tool for the happiness of Steven and Margaret, my sister? As I carried the abandoned baby I had picked off the road, I sneered. If they wanted me to be their stepping stone, then they could not blame me for playing a little substitution trick.

I had regressed ninety-nine times, and it all started because I brought home an injured man. Every time I came back, strange floating comments appeared in front of my eyes. I could also hear my baby brother's thoughts. The moment my brother saw Tristan Price, he screamed and refused to stop crying. "Send that man back! He's going to get our whole family killed!" I reached out hesitatingly toward Tristan, and the chat overlay flickered to life again. [The man lying in your bed is your future husband and the prince regent. He never forgets a kindness. Save him, and he will make you his princess consort. Your entire family will be protected and well provided for.] The first time, I followed my heart and did what the messages told me to do. I saved Tristan, and he used me as a human shield. The assassins hunting him found us, and my entire family was slaughtered. The second time, I listened to my brother instead and sent Tristan back where I found him. His men came to our door anyway, accused me of leaving him to die, and killed everyone. The third time, I found Tristan's closest aide before the assassins arrived and quietly handed Tristan over. Then Tristan went mad without warning and stabbed me himself. When my family tried to avenge me, they were killed too. I tried every approach I could think of to avoid my family's tragic fate, and every single one ended in failure. This time, I chose to wait for death. Then the comments appeared again, and something about them caught my eye.