Freak Gojo Novels & Stories

When my colleagues find out that I'm pretty good at cooking, they start organizing dinners at my place. Lucy Holt, one of the junior accountants, suggests that we split the groceries evenly between us. As a result, I don't think I can reject their request without being rude. On my last day of work, the group gathers at my place for one last meal. "You're such a good cook, Jess! We'll all be transferring you 500 dollars later. It's just a token of our appreciation," Lucy declares with a bright smile. But the very next day, she sends me a message. "Hey, Jess. You know it's illegal to operate an unlicensed catering business from your home, right? Your house will get sealed off for further investigation. More importantly, the value of goods has passed the threshold of 10,000 dollars, which means the fine you'll have to pay is probably going to be about 20 times that amount. "Since we worked together, we decided not to report you to the authorities. We'll just settle this matter privately. All you have to do is give us the fine you would've had to pay instead." This is how I realized that, combined with yesterday's meal, the total amount they've given me for groceries thus far is exactly 10,001 dollars.

My in-laws go on a jungle trip and are stung by venomous bees. An exorbitant sum is needed for their surgeries, so I hurriedly call my husband for help. However, as soon as the call connects, he berates me. "They can die if you don't have money to treat them! Why waste the money? Your family isn't mine—what does it have to do with me if they die? Also, Chloe has no money for food. I'm transferring what we have to buy her a meal." He hangs up abruptly and transfers whatever money I have. Meanwhile, his parents die because we didn't pay to save them.

The care center called. "Hi, just wanted to ask if you're happy with our service so far." Well, that was odd. I was only eight months along. My baby wasn't even born yet. I had no need for the care center at the moment. So I kept digging. I pressed my husband for answers. He was the one handling the talks with the care center. I wanted to know what was going on. He gave me an apologetic look. "This center costs 120 grand, honey. We can't afford that. They must've gotten the wrong number. You should stay at home instead. I'll give you the perfect care you need." That was it. I wasn't going to waste my time talking to him. My sister, Jessie Gibson, owned the care center, so I called her instead. "Jessie? Yeah, it's me. William sent another woman to your place and stole my spot. I want you to find out who. He's cheating on me, and I'm getting proof!"

On my boyfriend, Draco Leroyce's birthday, I take him to a newly-opened fancy restaurant of my own for his birthday meal. Thinking that we'll be having a birthday cake for dessert later, Draco and I decide to order a set meal that includes a pizza and a plate of pasta. With a smile, I hand the menu over to the waitress. She plasters a fake smile on her face as she grabs the menu. But she secretly calls us "broke ass bastards" in Virellian. I draw my brows into a deep frown instantly. "What did you just say?" The waitress is momentarily stunned. Then, she shoots me another fake smile. "I said I'll prepare your food right away." I just sneer back at the waitress before responding to her in fluent Virellian, "You were calling us broke ass bastards."

In eight years together, my boyfriend—Shayne Raffield—blocked me eighty-eight times. This time? Because I missed his call. At my best friend's birthday party. Usually, I'd panic-order a gift, then stand outside his office, head down, ready to beg. But today? I blocked him first. The Chat Feed popped up, loud as ever: [Nooo, Ley-Bae, don't block Shay-Shay! He's just got abandonment issues. Comfort him!] [Shay's heart = shattered; Eyes = red. Ley, go! One pout and he's yours again!] Then Shayne called. Didn't say a word. Just breathed for ten seconds and hung up. The Chat Feed freaked out. [AHHHH SHAY LOVES LEY SO MUCH HE JUST SUCKS AT SAYING IT. THIS COWARD'S GONNA LOSE HIS GIRL.]

"I always thought I had found the perf 'Once she gives birth, I’ll divorce her.' 'When I have sex with her, I cover her head with a pillow because the other side of the pillow has your picture It turns out, I was just surrogate tool, and all his affection was fake. So, I When I started a new life, Gu Songqian came knocking on my door: 'Actually, I love both of you equally. From now on, you’ll live on the west side, and she’ll live on the east side, and you won’t disturb each other.'"

I'm at an auction with my mother-in-law, Agnes Bachert. She spots a breathtaking emerald necklace, and we end up winning it for 30 million dollars. The auctioneer signals for payment. To make things easier, Agnes suggests charging it to my father-in-law Otto Garrett's account. But just as she says this, a flashy middle-aged woman and a young woman storm over. The younger woman, Janette Saccone, grabs Agnes' arm while the middle-aged woman, Ruth Coleman, slaps her hard. "I knew something was off!" Ruth snarls. "You're a nasty old bitch for destroying my family and trying to seduce my husband! I hope you suffer!" I rush to shield Agnes. "Are you okay?" Ruth's sharp gaze snaps onto me when she hears me speak. "Your mother-in-law has no shame, throwing herself at rich men. And you're not even embarrassed for her?" I step in front of Agnes and tell Ruth that I'm married into the Garrett family, then demand to know who she is. Ruth gives me a cold, arrogant look. "Who am I? I'm Otto Garrett's legal wife—the one he married officially!" She gives me a look of pure contempt. "And who are you to question me?" Before I can say a single word, she pulls out her phone and dials a number. "Clement, my dear son, get to the auction house right now! Help me catch this homewrecker!" Clement Garrett? That's my husband. Since when does he have another mother?

My sister-in-law is eight months pregnant. One day, she gets pushed to the ground and starts bleeding heavily. She's then taken to the hospital right away. As I drive by, I quickly roll up the window and pretend not to notice. I step on the accelerator and speed away. In my past life, though, things were different. The moment I saw her collapse, I sprang into action and took her to the hospital without delay. She was in critical condition. After the heavy bleeding, she developed amniotic fluid embolism. My husband was the city's top obstetrician. Thus, I called him urgently, pleading for him to come straight to the hospital. However, he accused me of jealousy. He was having dinner with his first love's family, after all. He claimed that I was exploiting my sister-in-law's accident to force him to come back. By the time my in-laws arrived, my sister-in-law had already succumbed to the amniotic fluid embolism. Her family blamed me for her death, convinced I had stirred trouble with my husband and brought about her demise. Having just returned from out of town, my brother-in-law believed their accusations without question. Overcome with grief, he stabbed me to death at the funeral. Opening my eyes again, I realize I've been transported back to the very day my sister-in-law is knocked down.

The apartment that I bought four years ago isn't renovated or lived in at all. Yet, I suddenly receive messages on unpaid water and electricity bills. Puzzled by the sudden barrage of messages, I return to that particular apartment to check things out. That's when I realize that a stranger has been living in my apartment this whole time!

In my previous life, my younger sister, Amy Lockwood, was sexually assaulted. When I wanted to file a police report, she adamantly refused to let me do so. She even stroked her belly lovingly and said something that blew my mind. "H-He was drunk. He didn't mean to do it. What if his life gets ruined because you reported him to the police? You shouldn't be so heartless!" Later on, Amy poisoned my food and nearly killed me just so she could run off with her assailant. However, my mother kept telling me not to hold it against her. This time around, I decide to be as heartless as I can possibly be.