Floor Noise Manhwa

Alexander's mistress was pregnant. He turned his back on me without a shred of hesitation, canceled our marking ceremony, and brought her home instead. As he passed by, he didn't even look at me. He just left a brief order hanging in the air. "She's weak. You know medicine. From now on, you'll handle her meals." When he reached the first floor, he paused again. "She's pregnant. She can't be frightened, and she needs me to sleep beside her." His voice was flat, devoid of any feeling for me. "There are plenty of empty rooms. Move out of mine." I packed my things quietly, without a word, and walked out of the estate. The butler tried to stop me, but Alexander's voice cut through the hall, cold and final. "Let her go. Once she cools off, she'll come crawling back on her own." His men, watching the scene unfold, exchanged amused glances. They even placed bets right in front of me—how many minutes before I'd regret leaving and come running back. But none of them knew the truth. The Alpha King my parents had chosen for me had already sent a car to wait for me outside the gate. This time, I wasn't coming back.

In the past, I was Raymond Wright’s wife. Or rather, a prisoner kept in his gilded cage. I was an internationally renowned jewelry designer. Under the spotlight, I had the most dazzling presence. Raymond was the most influential business elite on Floor Street, and he had an extreme desire for control. He claimed to love me, but he never truly loved me for who I was. He was determined to shape me into the “perfect Mrs. Wright” that existed in his imagination. He disliked me having my own social circle and hated it when I appeared in public. I once naively believed that if I were obedient enough, he would eventually recognize my sacrifices. The turning point came at a banquet. Someone there publicly mocked me as “nothing but a canary kept by Mr. Wright.” I could bear it no longer and retorted. Raymond rushed over and coldly scolded me. He said, “Behave yourself. Don’t embarrass me.” At that moment, the surrounding snickers and the disgust in his gaze forced the truth upon me. Ultimately, I fell down the stairs in an “accident” orchestrated by my stepsister. When I opened my eyes again, I was greeted by a warm-toned pendant lamp in the apartment I lived in before I married Raymond. On the desk calendar, a date was circled in red—there were only five days left until my wedding to Raymond. I had returned to the past. This time, I did not want to get involved with Raymond anymore.

The city was overrun by zombies. My girlfriend, Callie Bernson, the team leader, had taken my best friend, Dan Harrington, and fled in our only armored vehicle, leaving me behind in the shelter to die. Outside, the scratching of claws against metal echoed through the corridors. The defensive barricades were already starting to fail. My heart sank into despair. I raised my gun to my temple, ready to end it quickly, when a stream of floating text suddenly appeared in front of my eyes. [It’s hilarious. That cheating couple thinks they’re heading to Paradise, but that place has fallen. It’s packed with high-level zombies now.] [Don’t die, PC! The person in a coma in the shelter—the one your so-called best friend called dead weight and abandoned—is actually the only S-class ability user. Once she wakes up, she’ll wipe the floor with everything!] [Just you wait. When your buddy crawls back here in disgrace and finds the big boss awake, he will go to step in and steal the credit for saving her.] [Hurry up and die already, cannon fodder. I can’t wait for the tragic apocalypse romance between the best friend and the big boss.] I lowered the gun and sprinted toward the quarantine room. Inside, a woman lay on the bed, sleeping peacefully. I strode over and slapped her hard across the face. “Honey!” I shouted. “Time to get to work!”

It was not an ordinary day for Tara Davis. It was her first time to go to the heart of the city alone after being asked by her cousin to do the interview for her, a favor she could not say no. She did the interview without knowing the questions inside the brown envelope. When she reached the top floor of the Williamson Hotel, she found him busy looking for some files on his table and asked if it was okay to conduct the interview with him. Blake Williamson, amused that there was one person, who did not recognize him, decided to accept the interview and pretended to be Sam, his personal secretary. The interview became more interesting for him when they found out that it contained dirty questions related to . He became more interested in her because, despite the questions, she did the interview professionally. She was the first woman he met who seemed not interested in him, unlike other women who were always ready to undress in front of him. For him, Tara is an extraordinary woman who enchanted him. She was like a transformed live-action character from fairy tale stories who still believes in true love and simple life can still make you happy. Blake believed he was the perfect man for her until he found out that she was looking for an honest man with great conviction in life, and definitely not a millionaire, the exact opposite of him. He lied the first time they met, and the truth was that he was not just rich, but a renowned youngest billionaire in the country.

Two years into my marriage with Don Dante, my ex came back. Julian, the man who shattered my heart five years ago. He announced he was getting engaged. And he wanted me as his mistress. "I know I hurt you," he said. "My family looks down on mob ties. It was never going to work. But now? I'm marrying Tiffany. I'm taking over the family empire. I can finally afford to keep you." I just sneered at him. "Did it ever occur to you that I might be married?" He scoffed. "What decent family would have you? The daughter of a mob underboss? Don't be ridiculous." His arrogance made me sick. When I refused, he slapped a black card on the table. Told me to buy whatever I wanted. He said he'd pick me up next week. That we could spend every weekend tangled up in his bed. I spat on the floor at his feet. "Get him out," I told my guard. "And take his trash with him." He didn't get it. Not then. But he would. The moment he found out who I married. I didn't just marry anyone. I married the king of the Chicago underworld. A man he could never touch. And when he finally figured it out, he lost his goddamn mind.

“Please... spare my life,” she whispered, her voice trembling like the last leaf clinging to a winter branch. Blood trickled from her split lip as she pressed her forehead to the cold marble floor, her entire body shaking with terror. “I treasure what belongs to me,” he replied, his voice cold and deadly. His gloved hand gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his merciless gaze. “And as of tonight, little ghost... you belong to me.” Born from a one-night stand between a mafia lord and a maid, Liliana Orlov entered the world with her mother’s blood staining her face. Her father, Don Nickolas Orlov never let her forget who she was - a curse! While her half-sisters wear silks, she scrubs floors. While they dine in gold-lit halls, she eats their scraps. She was the family’s whipping girl, blamed for the empire’s weakness-no male heir, no future. Then, the unthinkable happens. To end a decade-long war, Nickolas sold Liliana to his greatest enemy Mikhail Volkov also known as “The Reaper” the heir to the most powerful and brutal mafia dynasty. Her fate was sealed. She entered into a forced marriage to secure peace. Thrown into a gilded cage, Liliana faces a man more merciless than her father. Is survival enough… or will she dare to want more? Or Will a man who rules through fear finally learn to kneel to love? Find out more in the story!

I set fire to my painting in front of the entire academy. Thunderous applause erupts from the crowd as everyone thinks it's some kind of performance art. Unlike them, Willow Laurent is distraught. She rushes up and grabs my hand, questioning in a shrill voice, "Cassidy Seymour, have you gone mad? This is your only chance to prove yourself!" I shake her hand off me coldly. My only chance? No… What she means is that it's her chance. In my past life, I created this masterpiece with all my heart and soul. But she stole it from me and submitted it as her entry first. Whether it was the composition, the colors, or even my original dot-stippling technique… She replicated every detail flawlessly. Then, she won the National Young Artists Gold Award, signed with a top gallery, and became a rising star. And what about me? I was condemned as a shameless plagiarist. Insults and curses gradually drowned me. "You shouldn't be an artist!" "Plagiarists are scum! They should just die!" Her fans stormed into my studio, smashed my art supplies, and broke my right hand. As I saw no end to the hell that I was living in, I jumped down from the top floor of my studio. When I open my eyes again, I'm back to the very day she first accuses me of plagiarism.

The day my husband, Caleb Vale, buries his first love, Layla Shaw, he stands in front of me and throws our wedding ring into the sea. For the next 12 years, the breakfasts I bring him go straight into the trash, and the scarf I stay up all night knitting is tossed into the fire and burned to ash. The cruelest moment is when he looks me in the eye and says, "Aurora, if you really want to please me, you might as well go die." But when a mugger comes at me with a knife, Caleb still steps in front of me without a second's hesitation. As he lies dying in my arms, he uses the very last of his strength to force out a few broken words. "Go... I hope I never see you again in my next life." At the funeral, Helena Rogers sobs until she faints. "This is all my fault. I never should've arranged your marriage..." Everyone around us pities him and resents me. They whisper that I'm a jinx and wonder why I'm not the one who died. And honestly, I wonder the same thing. Why not me? After Caleb is lowered into the ground, I climb to the top floor of the building and jump. As I hover on the edge of death, a cold, mechanical voice echoes in my mind. "Binding complete. Wish detected. The system will now send you back 12 years."

Everyone has gathered around to play games together. The current game requires all players to transfer red wine to each other via our mouths. Before my fiance, Teodoro Lamperti, is able to transfer the wine to me, his female best friend, Cristina Ghedini, shoves me away before kissing him on the mouth right away. "What are you doing? Today is Serafina's big day, you know!" Teodoro might be complaining on the outside, yet he's patting Cristina gently on the back. The atmosphere in the villa becomes eerily silent. Everyone stares at me as I sit on the floor in a wretched manner. Cristina merely smiles nonchalantly. Then, she leans against Teodoro's shoulder. "Don't be so petty, Serafina. Teodor and I are as thick as thieves since we were kids. We're used to sharing everything together." Teodoro begins advising me as well. "It's just a game, Serafina. You've always been gracious, haven't you? Don't act like a sore loser." Everyone thinks that I'll explode into rage and flip the table of food over, like I had done in the past. But this time, I just draw to my feet and take off the engagement ring. Then, I slide it onto Cristina's finger. "This ring is yours now. Congratulations on your marriage. Remember to invite me to your wedding."

At our wedding, Don Marco DeLuca, my fiance, answers a phone call. That's when his expression changes drastically. He then looks at me, his eyes filled with pain and conflict, two of the emotions that I've never seen plaguing him before. "Lina, Fiora will be flying this afternoon. She will leave Novaris permanently. This will be our last time seeing each other. I… I need to send her off." As I rub my thumb against the diamond ring which has just gotten slotted onto my ring finger, I just gaze at Marco quietly. "Are you sure you want to go see her off?" Marco's voice is trembling at this rate. He dares not even look me in the eye. "Lina, I swear that you'll be the only woman for me from now on. We'll get married, and we'll have children together. Life will be perfect for us." After that, he turns on his heel and walks away without looking back. He doesn't see the way I've crumpled onto the floor, where a puddle of blood has formed beneath me. My papa kisses me on the forehead. "My darling principessa, are you sure you want to break up with Marco?" I close my eyes and nod in response. I don't want Marco nor this farce of a marriage contract anymore.