Legoshi Grandpa

After connecting to a call hosted on a treasure-appraisal livestream, I find out that the "Fields of Freedom" stamp my grandpa has left me with is worth 10 million dollars. I've been troubled as to how I should afford my upcoming wedding with my girlfriend, Danielle Dalton. Delighted by the news, I call Danielle to tell her about it. Unexpectedly, Danielle, who's always such a prude about physical contact to the point that she refuses to let me kiss her, turns up on my doorstep that night. She spends the night draining me of my stamina with her skills and body. When I wake up once again, both Danielle and my stamp are gone. I visit Danielle's home to get my stamp back. But her father instantly shoves me out of the door angrily. "We don't welcome you here! Get lost right now!" At first, I thought there was a misunderstanding between us, so I still held back on my rudeness. But when I notice how rude Danielle's father is being to me, I decide to go all out on him. "Sure, I can leave, but you must return the stamp Danielle has stolen from me—" Before I can finish speaking, someone has dumped a bucket of ice-cold water onto my face. It turns out that the culprit is Danielle's mother. As she carries the bucket, she scowls at me, her features completely twisted. "Who the hell did you claim to have stolen your stamp, huh? Don't you dare run your mouth without any proof! I'll definitely sue you, you know!" Having realized how vile Danielle's parents actually are, I can't help but feel a strong hint of relief. Thank goodness I had only shown Danielle a fake copy of the stamp last night.

When I was five years old, I was kidnapped by the human traffickers. Later on, I was abandoned at Dreadvault Isle's prison meant for serious offenders located in the infamous no-man's land of Cloudguard Continent. In order to avoid dying from starvation, I clung to Edgar Blythe, who was a serial killer with the highest bounty known on the Internet, and called him "Grandpa Eddie". Then, I moved to grip Franklin Graves, a former boxing champion, by his diamond-crusted belt just to beg for scraps. Finally, I entangled myself around a top-tier assassin's leg while yelling at the top of my lungs, "As long as you don't let me starve to death, I'll make sure to take care of you once you grow old!" All the international mercenaries, arms dealers, and professional assassins were stunned by my declaration. In the end, they gave me some leftovers from their own plates. That was how I was raised in prison. Since my grandpas have enemies all over the globe, the first thing I do after returning to the country is act like a cowardly impoverished student. When I'm a college sophomore, Leonard Hargrove, a rich scion from a conglomerate, has accused me of stealing his laptop. He even beats me up relentlessly on the campus field and breaks three of my ribs by stomping on my chest. To make things worse, he forces me to swallow blood-drenched soil. I'm in so much pain that I've practically gone nuts and bitten off half of Leonard's ear as a result. Jordan Chappel, the dean of the college, kicks me to the floor when I meet him later on in his office. "Do you really think you're in the right for stealing from someone else, you broke bastard? All he did was hit you a few times! It's not like you'll die from those attacks! "You'd better tell your guardians to come here as soon as possible! I want to see them groveling to me and apologize on your behalf!" After spitting out a mixture of blood and saliva, I turn to stare Jordan dead in the eye. "Are you sure you really want my guardians to show up?"

My father died of esophageal cancer. For the final two years of his life, he could barely swallow anything. By the time he passed, he was nothing but skin and bones. The first New Year after his death, he came to my mother in a dream. "I'm starving," he said. "I just want to taste the thick-cut steak you used to make." My mother believed it without question. That very day, she pan-seared a large platter of steak and carried it to his grave. The next morning, she suffered a sudden heart attack and died on the spot. Devastated, I handled my mother's funeral together with my husband. That same night, my husband dreamed of my father as well. "Chester," he said, "I haven't eaten in so long. I want your pâté, served with some strong liquor." When my husband woke up, he bought the finest liver pâté, opened a bottle of single-malt whiskey, and went straight to the grave. However, not long after returning home, he collapsed from acute liver failure. He was rushed to the ICU and died three days later. I was on the brink of collapse myself. I left my daughter in the care of a close friend while I tried to handle the endless wave of tragedy. That evening, my daughter never came home from school. I searched everywhere, and finally, on the road to the cemetery, I found her. She was clutching a bowl of spicy stew, several grilled sausages floating in the broth. "Mom," she said, "Grandpa and I used to eat this all the time. I dreamed he said he was hungry." I finally lost it. I knocked the bowl from her hands and carried her home. That night, my father appeared in my dream once more. "I suffered so much while alive," he said. "Have some pity on me. "New Year's is coming. I want to come home for a meal. Make sure you cook fish." I woke in terror. Holding my daughter, I sat before the three framed portraits for two full days without eating or drinking. On New Year's morning, I realized she was no longer breathing. Clutched tightly in her hand was a packet of spicy dried salmon. I could not believe it. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my mother, her eyes red with worry, said she was going out to buy steak.