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Uzumaki Ryuu is a 17 year old boy who lives a peaceful life from the mountainside of Wakayama, Japan. His carefree lifestyle turned to a wicked survival 500 kilometers away. Unknown place, unfamiliar faces, stimulating courses of events; will he get back home alive? Furthermore, it is somewhere in the Red Light District, a popular town in the City of Tokyo where the legal buying and selling of teens was established. The wealthy were at the top of the social cycle; power, authority, fame, and prestige are in their hands. A commonplace for young children to be sold out by irresponsible families and Servers come to existence from the covetousness of the place, called the Service Hub; 15 years to fortify, will it be the same place again? Let us join the extraordinary boys, watch out for every clue hidden everywhere and see what the future holds for the new generations of the Servers. Unfold the mysteries, secrets, wait- will there be a friendship turning to love? Enemy to lovers? Love at first sight? Fake or true love? Hey, we must highlight the love of parents here. A/N: My first ever published BL story. Hope you like it. This is an art of dedication and hard work. All writers do. If you like my book, please support me. Thank youuuuuuu

Everyone in Harbor City knows that the city's prince, Brandon Schmidt, is a devoted husband. Countless homewrecker wannabes are dealt with before they can even reach me. But one day, I see Brandon's text conversation with one of his mistresses. "You're going to open up for me tonight." "It's so embarrassing to be doing this on your wife's bed." Meanwhile, my arm is shattered from dealing with one of his competitors. The conversation makes my stomach turn. So be it, then. No one's getting off easy now.

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.]

The seventh time I planned to register for marriage with Piero Conrad, he didn't show up again. I was about to text him and ask when he would arrive when I stumbled upon his childhood friend's post. [Celebrating the 999th day since marrying my dear, from the past to the future, it's always been you.] The video showed a marriage certificate, with Piero's name listed as the husband. The registration date was May 20, three years ago. I realized that was why he never showed up those seven times. He was already married to someone else.

My peace shattered when my daughter found a used condom in our family car. I knew my husband, Derek, never loved me, but I never thought he was the kind of man to leave the disgusting evidence of his betrayal for his daughter to find. I thought this was the worst part, but life was always harsher than you could imagine. When I followed an anonymous text to Derek’s office, I saw him, my husband, kissing a woman in front of the windows. It was Savannah—my sister, Derek’s first love, who had died seven years ago.

“Is this a…contract?” “It has everything you would need if you want to go on dates with me for the next couple of weeks. From the times you can call me to the days I would not be available to pick up calls or even respond to text messages no matter how urgent they are. There’s also a number of locations we can have our dates and another number of places I would never set foot in. Things you can talk about and things you should stay out of. There’s a detailed list of questions you can ask me there and an even more detailed list of things you should never mention. It’s not too much. All you need to do is go through it, sign the contract and we’re good to go. I’ll text you the dates and locations of our dates and have my driver come pick you up.” Emily was bewildered. “You’ve got to be joking.” ——- Emily Stark was given a choice- to either get married to a billionaire she had never met her entire life in place of her sister who had ran away in fear of getting married or somehow find a way to pay her parents’ debt of thirty million dollars in a day. She is immediately stuck at a crossroad but knows she has no choice but to succumb and get married. After all, it was just marriage? How much complicated could it be? Well, unless your husband to be is a cold ruthless billionaire who only cares about his work and has absolutely no interest in you. And to make it worse, thinks marriage is nothing but another business deal. A contract to be signed and simply gotten over with with time.

It was something that Lissa had wanted ever she laid eyes on their newly appointed supervisor over the small but continuously growing company that she works for. He's gorgeous as hell. And everybody wants him. Sometimes, Lissa even thinks about whenever she 'plays' with herself. But of course, everything that she fantasies will remain as a fantasy. That supervisor of hers is bisexual and prefers to do the deed with men. But that's until she hears a little something from a little birdie in the table next to her. "Karma is a bitch, and revenge is best served cold --- bitter and kicking." As the messed up relationship between Anthony and Lissa grows passionately everyday, a text message from an unknown number will disrupt their lives. The text message contained a few sentences, something vague and Anthony thought it was only a scam for there are so many opportunistic folks in the world. However, the next day when he turned up for work with Lissa holding his hand, a certain woman wearing a Burgundy lipstick rattled him to the core. It was Tessa. Armed with vengeance and a story that could potentially destroy the empire Anthony's father has built. "So... what's your plan now, Mr. Lee?" Tessa leaned closer, whispering words laced with venom to his ear. "Will you cave in, or... would you like the world to know what kind of twisted son a of a bitch you really are." Anthony swallowed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His head was spinning and his world was crashing and burning and breaking in different places. And so it's true, Karma comes after everyone eventually. And this is his. "What do you want?" Tessa licked her lips then smirked. "Isn't it obvious?" She chuckled, her fingers traveling down his pants. "You."

On my birthday, Jake handed me two bucks and took me to a gas station to buy a lottery ticket. Then he dashed off, claiming he had an urgent work meeting. As I sat alone in the restaurant celebrating my birthday, I spotted my boyfriend, who claimed he had no time for me, having dinner with another woman. Without a second thought, I sent him a breakup text right then and there. Two days later, that lying jerk had the nerve to demand I return the lottery ticket. That's when I discovered it was worth $5 million. I cashed in the ticket and told him to get lost.

The King of the West, Lord of the Shadow Sect, and God of War—Howard Lincoln! Five years ago, Howard's adoptive father and his entire family were killed. Narrowly escaping from death, Harold was saved by Tania Jenkins. After that, he was taken away by a mysterious man and entered the military camp by chance. Five years later, a text message brought the God of War from the blood-soaked battlefield to the mundane world, and only then did Howard realize he had a daughter. Since then, the skillful warrior turned into a doting father, protecting his family, fighting other influential families, battling fiercely, and paying back both the good and the harm.

I was halfway through a sad cafeteria lunch when a livestream popped up: [Ring toss—whoever lands it gets the dog.] Onscreen, Alverton University's rich-boy squad cracked up, betting on who'd "own" me. Adrian Locke, the student council golden boy, flicked his ring. It landed dead center on my nameplate. "One month. Let's see which owner the little bitch wags her tail for." I closed the stream. Right then, a text from my dad lit up my phone: [Sweetheart, have you chosen your fiancé candidate?] I smirked, snapped a screenshot of the stream, and sent it. [Evaluation complete. All four disqualified.]