Good Short

At the New Year’s team-building event, the intern, Lilith Woods, did not obtain my approval and changed our suburban trip to a seven-day tour of Baline. “Mr. Lucian Stone, I hear a change of scenery can really spice things up. Don’t lock up tonight. I’ll come by for a deep dive into our collaboration.” She pretended to be drunk and fell into my arms while slipping the room key into my pocket in the process. To avoid suspicion, I did not return to the hotel. However, in the middle of the night, the police called me in for questioning—someone had reported a dine-and-dash. Only then did I realize that the reserved budget of $100,000 for the accommodation had long since been exceeded. Lilith had upgraded their room to a presidential suite, feasted on high-end seafood buffets, and even used company funds to buy luxury handbags! When I showed up at their private room, the interns were still casually taking king crabs and several unopened bottles of the Macallan Whisky with them. “Mr. Stone, you’re just in time. Could you please settle the bill?” Lilith looked utterly righteous as she said this with a grin. “Young people like us make mistakes, while adults help to pay the price. You’re not exactly short on cash, anyway. Just think of it as buying my happiness.” I stared at the $700,000 bill and paid it in silence. The next day, the payment invoices made their grand entrance in the group chat, accompanied by my pinned message. [Upon financial review, this team-building event does not meet reimbursement criteria. All expenses will be shared equally among the seven participants.] [Each person will need to pay $100,000, payable immediately. If payment needs to be deferred, please print the proof and submit it to the President’s Office.]

My best friend, Sienna Monroe, who always swears she'll never marry, goes with me to the fertility clinic and suddenly snatches away the donor profile I choose. That's when I know she has come back to life too. In my previous life, I wanted a mixed-race baby, so I chose the IVF route. Sienna mocked me, saying I'd just be raising someone else's child. But two weeks later, I was taken to the royal palace of Valoria. It turned out the donor I picked was none other than the Prince of Valoria, a man of eight national lineages. He not only insisted on marrying me as his princess but also promised that our child would inherit the throne. The baby and I were cherished by the entire royal family, so much so that the jewels they draped over me nearly bent my back. Meanwhile, Sienna flaunted her extreme feminist stance and offended business partners. In the end, she was fired and blacklisted across the industry. Sienna spent all her savings on a plane ticket to attend my party, where I would introduce my baby to everyone. But when I went to welcome her, she crushed my son to death in her hands and splashed concentrated acid on me. "You don't deserve such good fortune! You worthless witch!" But when I opened my eyes again, I had gone back to the day I asked her to go with me to the fertility clinic.

My contract with the company is about to come to an end, and I'm already planning to renew it. But a few days before that, my boss, Dustin Kline, requested that I lower the percentage of my bonus in the project. The reason he gave is that I'm still young. Even if I were to take over other projects, I'd also do a good job. Dustin even made empty promises to me just so he could get me to give the projects I'm in charge of to Sandy Richmond, the new department manager in the company. When I refused to do so, he threatened to not give me my salary in order to get me to comply. The next day, the company is reduced to a laughing stock at the product launch event. Our client thinks the company's technological skills are too weak to back up the big talk, so they refuse to pay the remainder of the contracted sum. When Dustin begs me for help, I just look at him in amusement. "I refuse to get manipulated by anyone in this workplace. You're more than capable of dealing with your own problems. I believe in you, Mr. Kline."

My husband's first love posted a video on her social media. In the video, the two of them were passing a playing card with their lips. When the card fell, their lips met in a kiss. They didn't stop—lost in the moment, they kissed passionately for an entire minute. Her caption read: [Still the same clumsy piggy! PS: Steve's skills are as good as ever!] I quietly liked the post and left a comment: [Congrats.] The next second, my husband called, yelling at me furiously, "No other woman is as dramatic as you! I was just playing a game with Lanie. Why are you acting crazy again?" It was then that I realized seven years of love meant nothing. It was time for me to leave.

I sponsored Emily Fagan from an underprivileged background just to help her get through school. She was good-looking but wasn't exactly the brightest. Despite my warning not to tamper with my things, she slipped stimulants into my water bottle. Thanks to her, I was accused of cheating in the swimming competition. Our team's score was nullified. As for me, I was banned from competing for life and kicked out of college. When I confronted her, she cried pitifully, "Julie, I just wanted you to win. I didn't know that'd happen." My boyfriend, Elijah Strauss, held her and comforted her. He even snapped at me, claiming, "Em had good intentions. Why are you giving her a hard time?" Crushed, I shut myself in at home. Feeling sorry, she and Elijah visited me and brought along some vodka as an apology. After I took ten shots, I asked her to buy some over-the-counter pain relievers for my splitting headache. Little did I know that she'd make me take a dangerous dose of Ibuprofen mixed with alcohol. The bleeding in my stomach was what killed me. Emily looked pitifully remorseful at the hospital. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't even tell what I shouldn't have given her…" During the police interrogation, my boyfriend gave false testimony to protect her. He accused me of taking my own life by mixing Ibuprofen and alcohol because I couldn't handle the mental stress from cheating in the competition. When I reopened my eyes, I found out that I was transported to the day before the competition.

The Moon Goddess offered me her protection. If I died, I'd get one chance to be reborn through the werewolf trials. I was born with "sensory impairment." I wasn't an Omega, but I couldn't shift into a wolf. I couldn't see or sense wolves in their lupine forms or their power. When I appeared alongside ninety-nine other trial candidates in an ancient rainforest shrouded in thick fog and darkness, everyone assumed I wouldn't make it past the first day. But here I was, in the terrifying rainforest nests, treating a ghostly wolf pup, drowned for its unusual coat color, as my own little cub. And, I flirted with a bloodthirsty vampire spirit who took pleasure in killing, treating him like a lover. I even befriended the evil twin Hexenbiest, treating them like sisters. The first time we met, I reached out and ran my hand over the vampire's abs. "Nice body," I commented, "just a bit on the short side." He let out a humorless laugh, reattached the head he'd been holding to his neck, and gripped my chin. "I'm six-foot-five," he said. "Want to take another look?"

In my dormitory, there was a poor student. With all the good intentions in the world, my roommates and I were eager to help her, not realizing how much our help would cost. She wasn't impressed by the hairdryer we offered, insisting on borrowing a branded one instead. The skincare products we gave her? They were applied to her feet. And, as if that wasn't enough, she specifically demanded luxury face cream. One day, I lent her my tablet to look up some information, and to my surprise, she secretly opened up my gaming app, spent all the diamonds and reward tickets I had saved for half a year, and left me empty-handed. When I asked her to pay me back, she turned the tables and posted a public message online, accusing me. "I'm just a poor student from the countryside, never played games before. Are the materials in the game really worth this much?" Before I knew it, the comment section was flooded with criticisms of me. In a fit of frustration, I fired back with a post of my own, throwing her into the spotlight. "Well, I suppose you've never tasted the bitterness of being cyberbullied, have you?"

My daughter, Tina, locked herself in her room, crying so hard her body shook. I pried the door open and saw that she was clutching a test paper that was torn to shreds and pieced back together. It was a math Olympiad selection test. She should have gotten a perfect score, but was given a score of zero instead. "Mom," she sobbed, "the teacher said 3x5 is not equal to 5x3; that it's taking shortcuts. She tore my paper up in front of everyone, revoked my eligibility for the competition, and told the whole class not to talk to me…" I looked at the deep red scratch marks on my daughter's wrist and immediately picked up the phone to call the principal. "What good does it do for your school's reputation to drive a kid who loves math to their breaking point?"

The housekeeper deliberately reveals her busty chest when I'm out of the house. She says coquettishly to my husband, "Oh, my. This is an accident, Mr. Houston …" My husband looks like he's focusing on his drink, but he keeps sneaking looks at her. I see all of this from the housekeeper's livestream.

"Shut down for rectification, fined $500,000, plus $300 compensation per customer. That’s the penalty from the Food Safety Bureau. Let’s see if you dare serve us gutter oil again!” Yves Larson, a part-timer at a construction site, sends me a provocative text purposefully, as though he's worried that I don't know what's going on. I just stare at the sign that says "closed for renovation", which is hung on the front door of my eatery. Never would I expect that the budget eatery that I've opened for the sake of the workers will be transformed into a blade that's aimed at me, thanks to the very same workers. That night, I sit in the apartment that my dad has left to me before his death. There, I spend the whole night smoking. Early the next morning, I head over to the bank and withdraw the money left behind by my dad, which is 260 million dollars. Half a month later, my eatery is open for business again. Work resumes at the construction site as well. Yves leads the construction workers to the restaurant at lunch. "I've taught him a good lesson last time. This time, I'm very sure that he won't have the guts to serve us cheap food made of shitty ingredients!" What he doesn't know is that the original eatery is already demolished. In its place stands a luxurious five-star restaurant. I stand in front of the main entrance as I perform a welcoming gesture to the workers. "This is a five-star restaurant that offers a private dining experience to you. The minimum bill for each table is 4000 dollars. You're welcome to dine here."