Komik Gold System Novels & Stories

The three of us got dragged into a horror game. My handsome CEO husband, Adrian Chase, tore through dungeon after dungeon and shot straight into the top four on the player leaderboard. Then we entered an SSS-level dungeon, and he and our son decided I was deadweight. They left me behind in a monster-filled zone. The chat instantly blew up: [Adrian Chase is so hot! He should've dumped that deadweight forever ago!] [Theo's only ten and already this strong? Total mini-Adrian.] [Adrian and the number two player, Mollie, are perfect together. I ship them so hard!] I was crouched in a pool of blood, zoning out, when a shadow dropped over me. The stream chat lost it: [Holy crap! That's the SSS-level BOSS!] [Did she freeze up?! Run!] I looked back— The boss who had the entire server terrified dropped to one knee without hesitation, silver hair spilling across my lap. "Master, you haven't spent time with me in three days..." I shoved his stupidly handsome face away. "Not now. I'm busy." Viewer chat: [Wait, WHAT did we just hear?!]

Derek Lewis killed me six times for Claire White. Each time, I waited for him to change his mind, but every time, he drove the knife straight into my chest. “Sherry, Claire was born with a serious heart condition. You’re the only compatible donor who can save her. I swear—you’re the only woman I’ll ever marry.” But before the first week after my death had even passed, he married Claire. My former mansion became their new home, and my sports cars were used as their wedding cars. Even the Lewis family’s billion-dollar fortune became jointly owned between them. Standing in line to be reborn again, I finally realized that I didn’t want the scumbag anymore, but the Lewis family’s wealth had always included my share. So, I was reborn, choosing to become their child. On the day of the delivery, Derek publicly announced that Lewis Group would one day belong solely to this child. Inside the delivery room, I was born crying. Claire took one look at me, and her scream tore through the room. “Derek, why does our baby look like Sherry?”

I'm the primary surgeon of the nation's biggest medical malpractice case. Apparently, I've screwed up intentionally in a joint surgery that leads to the instant deaths of five patients. My wife, Wanda Johnson's mother is one of them. The medical world purges my name immediately. The Internet demands that I pay the price with my own life. The patients' families kneel before the court with a petition. With tears running down my cheeks, they plead to the court to sentence me to death. In order to ease the public outrage, the court decides to euthanize me. The head of the investigative team of the health department wants to activate Project Nightingale. With the power of AI, the truth of what happened in the surgery will be re-enacted. But Wanda, who also works as a police officer, shoots that idea down. "There's no need for that. Do you actually want the patients' families to witness how their loved ones die again? The youngest patient is just an eight-year-old, you know! Let's just euthanize him!"

The woman my husband never got over and I were rushed to the hospital after the same car accident. The hospital's plasma supply was dangerously low. To get her into surgery as quickly as possible, my husband, Maxwell Gallagher, chose to draw my blood. What he did not know was that I had hemophilia. That single decision drained the life from me. My body failed first. My heart followed, quietly and completely. "Once Josie is stable, I'll make it up to you," he said, forcing the promise through clenched resolve. I smiled faintly as I listened. By then, everything inside me was already dead. Just as my existence was about to be erased, the Neural Outcome Determination Engine took my place and returned to my body. I thought Maxwell would never realize the truth. But the moment he looked into "my" eyes, he broke down completely.

A flicker of hope, a spark amidst the neon grime of New Shanghai. Anya, a slave to the Volkov Mafia, had long buried her emotions under layers of calloused defiance. Years of servitude had carved a burning desire for vengeance into her soul. Then, a whisper of rebellion arrived – a message smuggled in a package, hinting at a Volkov family secret. Anya's heart, long numbed, stuttered awake. This wasn't just a chance to escape; it was a weapon. A weapon to dismantle the empire that had stolen her life, her family, everything. But the path to freedom was a razor's edge. Fear gnawed at her, a constant companion in the Volkov's watchful gaze, their merciless enforcers lurking in every shadow. Yet, a flicker of something else bloomed – a strange, almost forgotten warmth, a sliver of the person she used to be. Could she trust it? As Anya navigated the labyrinth of lies and high-tech security, a deeper truth unfolded. This Volkov secret wasn't just about her escape; it was a key to exposing a far-reaching conspiracy, one that could reshape the city's criminal web. Suddenly, Anya's burning desire for revenge transformed. It wasn't just about herself anymore. It was about a sliver of justice, a chance to dismantle a system that preyed on the weak. But with this newfound purpose came a terrifying weight of responsibility. Was she strong enough to risk everything, to ignite a war she might not survive? The weight of human emotions – fear, anger, and a desperate yearning for freedom – threatened to suffocate her. The price of vengeance was steep, and Anya had to decide if she had the strength to pay it.

I had special luck that would cause others to lose their money. If anyone tried to scam my money from me, they would suffer financial loss. When I was in elementary school, a female classmate stole five dollars from me to buy a snack. The next day, her father suffered a fifty-thousand-dollar loss in his business deal. When I was in high school, my homeroom teacher withheld my prize money. The next day, his wife got into a pyramid scheme, and he lost his house because of it. After I started working, I encountered my extremely snobbish boss, Fiona Anderson. I submitted a claim for five thousand dollars, which I had paid in advance for a company event. However, she refused to approve the claim for three months. As for the rich intern who drove a luxury car, she would immediately approve his claims with a huge smile on her face, even though he would submit fake receipts. I urgently needed to pay my credit card bill, so I went to talk to her. Fiona pointed at me and snorted. “Poor men like you always try to covet the company’s money! “How dare you ask me for money? You must be out of your mind!”

I wasn’t even pregnant, yet I ended up popping abortion pills like they were candy. It was all because in my past life, the moment my widowed sister-in-law got pregnant, every single side effect of her pregnancy became mine. She strutted around happily with her big belly, consuming spicy tamales, while I was rushed to the hospital for violent nausea and stomach pain; she showed off her flawless skin in crop tops every day, while my stomach broke out in hideous stretch marks. When I told my husband what was happening, he just shoved me away impatiently. “Enough with the jealousy! My brother’s dead, and she’s carrying his only child. Of course, I should look out for her. Do you really have to put on such an act?” After that, my sister-in-law went even further. She kept testing her limits during pregnancy and even ate a mango she was allergic to. And me? I went into anaphylactic shock, landed in the hospital, and nearly died. Doctors couldn’t explain it. They just brushed it off, saying I was overly jealous and it was all psychological. Later, my sister-in-law tried to brand herself as a “hot single mom”. She went live, belly and all, to show off her weight-loss workouts. She jumped around for three straight hours. And me? My uterus literally gave out, and I hemorrhaged to death. When I opened my eyes again, it was the exact day she first announced her pregnancy.

My husband's secretary, Regina Wade, claims she is a lucky charm. She wins every lottery ticket she buys and even wins three bets in a row. In truth, she is just transferring her bad luck onto me. In my previous life, she confidently invites the entire company to gamble, and everyone walks away with huge winnings. Well, everyone except me, as I lose everything. Regina throws money around in the casino, indulging her vanity, while my face rots and my body becomes riddled with illness. She conducts livestreams to auction off her good luck, while I get hit by cars every time I go out and almost die from infection during surgery. When I ask my husband, Jack Burns, to investigate her, he points at me angrily and scolds, "Ariel Nichols, stop blaming your bad luck on Reggie. You are just jealous that she is lucky. With such vicious thoughts, you deserve to get hit!" Three days later, Regina wins a trillion-dollar gamble and gains boundless wealth. I, on the other hand, bleed from inside and die suddenly. Even until my death, I never figure out why I have such terrible luck. When I open my eyes again, I return to the day Regina first claims she is a lucky charm.

Yelena Moon, the new intern, claimed to be someone who could bring wealth to everyone. Apparently, the lottery numbers she had her eye on would definitely win a prize. Everyone lined up to get her to buy lottery tickets for them. Surprisingly enough, they became millionaires overnight. But I soon realized that whenever Yelena won a lottery prize, I'd lose money to all sorts of incidents and accidents. I might suffer from a bone fracture one day, only to get into an accident that required a surgery the next day. Even my own luck started to run out when it came to my own wealth. I kept failing my investments while racking debts nonstop. In the end, the loan sharks came knocking on my door. My senses were all frayed at that point. In a fit of despair, I demanded answers from Yelena, only to get scolded by everyone else. "What do you mean Yelena swapped out your luck for hers? I think you're just jealous of the fact that everyone's getting rich now!" "You can't even retain your own wealth, and yet you have the guts to frame a young woman for such nonsense! People like you are absolutely toxic to this world!" I tried my best to defend myself, but not even my own dad believed me. To rub salt into my wounds, he even treated Yelena as his own biological daughter and kicked me out of my home. Later on, someone tossed a sack over me and kidnapped me. After torturing me to no end, they threw me off a high building, I was crushed beyond recognition. When I wake up again, I've returned to the day Yelena is flaunting her financial luck. Upon noticing how smug she looks, I start buying lottery tickets like mad. "What a coincidence! I'm also super lucky when it comes to wealth!"

My sister-in-law, Alicia, insisted that her son was a chosen fighter, blessed by God and immune to harm. The truth was far darker: every injury meant for him was being transferred onto my daughter. His congenital heart disease disappeared overnight. While most children his age were still carefully protected, he was already taking part in extreme sports and never suffered so much as a scratch. Meanwhile, my once-healthy daughter weakened day by day. She began to suffer unexplained fractures throughout her body. There was not a single place left uninjured. It was impossible not to see the connection. When I voiced my suspicions to my husband, Jeff Charlton, and my mother-in-law, Kelly Freeman, they dismissed me as delusional. They accused me of being jealous that Alicia had given birth to a prodigy, while I had nothing but a "worthless" daughter. Later, Alicia's son completed a trek across the Saharain Desert and became an overnight sensation, a child star adored by millions. At the same time, my daughter suddenly collapsed from heatstroke and died without warning. Alicia went live on her platform, accusing me of making false claims out of envy. Her followers believed every word. They hunted me down and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back at the moment Alicia first proclaimed her son a miracle child. This time, I was no longer a powerless mother. As a specialist doctor, I calmly pulled on my gloves. "Alicia," I said with a smile, "Let me examine my nephew and see if he's truly cured."