Fae Names Male

While studying abroad, I move into a shared apartment. Not a single day goes by without my housemate, Stuart Harper, calling himself some variation of a sweet, brave, and responsible guy. On the very first day he moves in, he hires workers to take out the insulation from the walls. I confront him about it, but he simply grins at me and proudly boasts about his decision. "That was all just some shoddy foam that the construction workers padded the walls with. Not only was it useless, but it was even taking up so much space. The fact that I forked out my own money to get rid of it proves that I'm such a sweet and responsible guy!" With a scowl on my face, I explain to Stuart the purpose of having proper insulation. He immediately leans in close with an admiring gaze. "I'm so sorry. I had no idea! I just wanted to do something nice for us. What should I do now? You have to help me think of something!" I naively assume Stuart just lacks common sense and doesn't act with malice. Thus, I willingly enter into a cycle of always cleaning up after his messes. One day, I get a fever. He ends up buying a secondhand electric slow cooker and declares he's going to take care of me by cooking me soup. My head throbs as I quickly put a stop to his attempt to heat the electric slow cooker on the induction stove. I tell him to let me catch a nap before I teach him how to cook later. But not long after I fall asleep, he secretly sticks the electric slow cooker into the microwave to heat it up. The microwave explodes. As the flames start to spread, Stuart screams and dashes out of the apartment at once. The fire alarm wakes me up. I try to evacuate the burning building, only to find that Stuart has locked the door from the outside. In the end, the fire burns me to a crisp. After that, however, he starts twisting things around. He goes online and says with a helpless expression, "My housemate set the apartment on fire while cooking. I'm the one who had to call the fire department on his behalf, and I even had to compensate the landlord for him. I'm definitely the sweetest, bravest, and most responsible guy to ever live!" As the online community proceeds to condemn me, Stuart uses the attention and publicity to go viral as a content creator. Some time later, my eyes open again. This time, I'm going to roast him good.

My wife, Alisha West, has always been obsessively frugal. After marrying her, my single guilty pleasure became blowing money on luxury watches—almost like revenge for how absurdly tightfisted she was. By the time our daughter, Elyse Day, turned 7, she had inherited every bit of her mother’s penny-pinching nature. The two of them looked completely out of place in our sprawling mansion. And I loved it. I’d slip into my latest custom-tailored suits and watch them wince at my credit card statements, their expressions twisted in quiet pain. Until one day, lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This spendthrift idiot is still shopping? Doesn’t he know his wife’s company is about to go bankrupt?] [She’s been drained dry supporting this parasite. Her T-shirt collar is practically worn out from washing. Good thing the financially savvy male lead is about to show up and save her.] [Can’t wait for Alisha to file for divorce and kick this useless freeloader out. Let’s see how he survives fighting stray dogs for scraps under a bridge.] I slammed the limited-edition Richard Mille watch onto the table. Alisha, who was crouched on the floor breaking down delivery boxes for recycling, and Elyse, who was helping stomp them flat, both jumped in shock. A chill ran through me. I lunged forward, snatched the battered cardboard box from Elyse’s hands, and held it tightly against my chest. "No… no more buying. I’m returning this watch. "And these boxes… don’t sell them. I think we might need them someday… to lay out under a bridge when we’re sleeping outside…"

The night I confessed my love to my girlfriend, she wept so hard she could barely breathe. She said she had seen the future, and she wanted to make a promise with me. I asked her why. She only shook her head and said, "I don't remember… all I know is that in the future I regret something terribly. Frank, no matter what happens, you must give me three chances. Will you?" I was deeply in love with Agnes Grey, so I agreed without hesitation. But later, it was as if she had forgotten all about that night—forgotten it when she clung so intimately to her male assistant. Only then did I understand why she'd made me promise that all those years ago. Because the moment I signed my name on the divorce papers, I heard a familiar voice. It was Agnes at nineteen. Through her sobs, she pleaded, "Frank… you promised me, didn't you? You said you'd give me three chances."

"Sir, the divorce agreement from the safe." On their fifth wedding anniversary, in a dimly-lit restaurant, Xavier Hampton's secretary placed the divorce papers in front of him. Five years ago, on the day Elizabeth Eaton and he registered their marriage— She had loved him deeply. So deeply that she had prepared the divorce agreement in advance, signed her name, and locked it away in the safe. If she ever betrayed him, all he had to do was sign. Xavier picked up the pen and swiftly signed his name. Across from him, the empty seat seemed heavier than any presence. His gaze dimmed. "Send the divorce papers to Attorney Harvey," he said, his voice calm, almost detached. "Then book a hotel and have the wedding venue set up in advance." The secretary hesitated for a moment before carefully asking, "Whose names should I write as the bride and groom?" "Elizabeth Eaton and Connor Walker."

I become paralyzed after trying to save my wife. Seven years later, she holds a knife to our young son's neck and forces me to donate my kidney to her male best friend. She says I'm worthless now that I'm already paralyzed—what does it matter whether or not I have my kidneys? What she doesn't know is that I already lost a kidney many years ago when trying to save her. Now, she's taking away the only one I have left!

My girlfriend keeps saying that she comes from a poor family, but she gives her childhood sweetheart a yacht on our anniversary. I text her to ask about this, but all she does is berate me. "Who do you think you are? How dare you stick your nose into my business! I'll give anyone whatever I want. My money, my call. Get lost!" Unbeknownst to her, I'm covered in blood on the other end of the line.

I never wanted to gamble, yet I could not stop myself from going to the tables. I kept losing, over and over, until I was buried under ten million in debt. After investigating the cause, I finally learned the truth–my older brother had placed me under a puppet-like control. Every loss was recorded under my name, while all the winnings went straight into his pocket. My wife was furious. She slapped me, took our son, and divorced me. I tried to explain myself again and again, but she refused to listen. "Nathan, can you stop making excuses? Did someone hold a knife to your throat? You chose to gamble." After that, my brother only grew more ruthless, raising the stakes until I lost everything overnight. With nothing left, my creditors chopped off my limbs and threw me into the sea, leaving me to drown. Even after my death, they did not spare my wife and child. She was humiliated to death, and my son was sold overseas, his whereabouts unknown. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I first lost control and went to the gambling den.

"Mr. Clarke, can you help me get rid of the tattoo on my butt?" The young man asks me for help with red-rimmed eyes. A lot of people have specifically requested me to tattoo something on their body. Honestly, this is the first time I've received a request to remove a tattoo from one's butt. He grits his teeth, as though he has finally made up his mind. "I just found out that my girlfriend has a husband! I want to break up with her, so I must get rid of the tattoo!" I nod in response. "Strip down and let me see the area and the mass covered." The man hesitates for a moment before turning his back on me and slowly taking off his pants. As soon as his right buttcheek is revealed, I feel my breath getting hitched in my throat. My wife, Annie Sylvester's face is actually tattooed on that area.

After I fail to win over the hearts of all three female leads, the system tells me that I can return to my original world as long as my body dies in this world. So, I happily order myself a grand meal of carb-based food in the dark basement. After eating my fill, I pull out a coil of rope and get ready to hang myself. But just as I'm about to stick my head through the noose, I suddenly see comments floating before my eyes. "Don't do it, Daniel! Elena's just mistreating you because she feels that she should make it up to Ryan! You're actually her favorite brother!" "That's right! The same applies to your fiancee! Ryan has saved her before, after all! The truth is, whenever she hurts you, she feels her heart wrenching in pain at the same time!" "Your childhood friend feels nothing but guilt for Ryan. Daniel, don't ever give up, and don't take your own life. If you die, the three of them will go crazy for real!"

I miss out on a call from my fiancee, Lauren Sink, because my phone is out of service when I'm in the elevator. The next thing I know, I receive a text from her, stating that our wedding has gotten called off. "Let's call off our wedding. I don't want to marry you anymore. Gregory isn't feeling well, so I've gone over to his place to take care of him. I don't want you disturbing us." This is the 99th time Lauren has called off our wedding because of Gregory Cooper. But this time, I don't get to plead to Lauren in time because I'm in too much agony from the news. Suddenly, I see a row of comments appearing before my eyes. "Why aren't you pleading with Lauren to stay with you, Cameron? She loves you, you know! She just doesn't know how to convey her feelings for you!" "She doesn't love Gregory at all! She gets close to him and calls off the wedding with you just to make you jealous!" "If Lauren genuinely doesn't want you to disturb her, why would she tell you where she is? Hurry up and please her already!" My heart skips a beat at the sight. So… So Lauren has loved me all this time? But I don't want the love that I can't feel at all.