Lirik Feeling Good

My parents take me to court to get my heart and save my adoptive sister. The judge uses advanced technology to extract our memories. A jury of 100 people decides the verdict. If my parents win the case, my organs will go to them. They think I won't dare to show up for the trial because they think I'm evil. However, everyone is overcome by tears when they see my memories and the truth of what happened!

Because I saved my husband during a car accident, I lost my eyesight. He wept, promising to treat me well for the rest of our lives to repay my sacrifice. I cooperated with the treatment wholeheartedly, hoping for a full recovery. But on the day I finally regained my sight, I stumbled upon something that shattered my world. In our marital home, his first love lay beneath him, her flushed face betraying the passion of the moment. Their bodies intertwined, and the air around them thick with stifled moans—a vivid tableau of infidelity. "She's just a blind woman. Why haven't you divorced her yet?" the woman murmured impatiently, her voice laced with disdain as she moved against him. My husband, immersed in pleasure, still mumbled an excuse. "My love, just a little longer. Soon, we'll be together openly…" I turned and left without a word, pretending I had seen nothing. As I walked away, I remembered the witch's sacrificial ritual in the misty forest—only a few days away. My husband's betrayal cut deep, carving wounds I couldn't ignore. I made up my mind to return to the forest, to embrace my identity as a witch once more, and to sever all ties with him. Yet, after I disappeared, word reached me that he was searching for me everywhere like a madman. Rumor had it he had completely lost his mind.

After being married for seven years, my husband, Samuel Ford, falls for Maggie Burner, his company's new accountant. He says, "It's only upon meeting her that I realize what love is." For the sake of his love, he allows Maggie to anger my aunt, who's gravely ill. She subsequently dies. He also stands by and watches as Maggie locks our four-year-old daughter in the car, leading to her asphyxiation. I lose all hope in life and ram my car at Samuel and Maggie. We die together. When I open my eyes, I realize that I've traveled seven years into the past. It's me and Samuel's wedding day. The officiant gives a speech, then asks, "Do you, Samuel Ford, take Penelope Waterworth to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?" Samuel is taken aback. Then, he flings my hand aside and says coldly, "No, I don't." I lower my head to conceal the emotions in my eyes. What a coincidence—I don't want to marry him, either.

The laundromat I regularly visit has been showing an odd fluctuation in its price lately. "This coat isn't easy to wash. We're probably the only store that's willing to clean this at a loss. The market price is 55 dollars per item, but I'll give you a discount and only ask for 200 dollars for four items." I look at the boss' mother, who's new at the laundromat. I'm a little pissed. Still, I hand her my membership card without saying anything. This laundromat is opposite my residential area, and they had a promotion during their opening. I topped up ten thousand dollars on the card because I pitied the owner for raising a child alone. Unexpectedly, the owner's mother looks at me and says sarcastically, "That dumb membership card means nothing to me—you have to pay me in cash. You youngsters are too lazy to wash your clothes, yet you're more than willing to use your brains for nonsense like this. My son is too kind to let you take advantage of him like this." I grab my clothes and leave. It's time to use my brain for some nonsense—I think the laundromat should have a new owner.

The richest woman in all of Jezelworth, Abby Davidson, was determined to marry my brother, Wallace Bourn. Everyone called Abby the "Black Widow", a cold-hearted woman who would do anything to get what she wanted. Anyone who married her was doomed to meet a tragic end. Wallace turned pale with fear, but I pulled him aside and said quietly, "I'll marry her in your place. But you have to stay in the countryside and guard my father's safe under his grave for three years. You can't open it before then." He thought the safe held a massive fortune. Grinning like a fool, he agreed without hesitation. Watching his greedy face, I couldn't help but laugh coldly inside. He'd better be ready for this. I couldn't wait to see if he could manage the "surprise" he'd find inside!

The day my sister slipped away from her engagement party, she was certain Marshall Patton could never truly fall in love with me. Confident in her belief, she left the country without hesitation, leaving me behind to hold her place and secure the title of Mrs. Patton in her stead. I didn't cry or make a fuss. Instead, I played the part of the obedient stand-in, giving everyone the courtesy of maintaining appearances while I quietly bided my time. Then, I poured every ounce of effort into making Marshall fall for me, bit by bit. And when my sister finally returned, I made sure to walk away.

My husband and his beloved mistress died together in a car accident. They left me with a pair of illegitimate children. Eighteen years passed in a blur. I poured my heart and soul into raising those children until, at last, they earned admission to Corvell University, the country's top university. But on the very day they received their acceptance letters, my 'dead' husband returned. And beside him stood his mistress. She clutched my husband's arm and beamed at me. "Thanks to your tireless care, my two sons finally made it into Corvell. If not for you, the two of us wouldn't have been free to live so happily together all these years..." Later, my husband demanded a divorce. He wanted to marry his mistress and reunite their perfect little family of four. I didn't cry, nor did I rage. I only smiled and said, "Sure."

On my birthday, my boyfriend ditched his childhood friend's desperate call to be with me. Devastated by his rejection, she spiraled into depression and ended her life. Heartbroken, he proposed to me beside her body. "I've already lost Giselle. I can't lose you, too." I said yes, moved by his grief and sincerity. But on our wedding night, he turned on me, hacking me with a knife. "You vile woman! Giselle died because of you. Time to feel her pain!" As I bled out, the girl waltzed back, saying she'd faked her death to spook him. Overjoyed, he pointed at my corpse. "Thank God, you're alive. This wretched woman is gone, and we're free to be together." They looted my wealth for their lavish wedding and happy life. When my eyes snapped open again, I was back on that fateful birthday.

"Keep them open!" he growled, his fingers trailing up her thigh. "You know you’re my ruin, don’t you?" She whimpered, feeling the heat of his breath against her skin as he leaned closer. "Let me see you. I want you spread wide for me. Now!" he demanded. ** Tainting a good girl’s innocence has always been my super power, but with her, I crave something more. Bending my wickedness until it’s twisted enough to be worthy of her purity. I’m Hiram Howler. This is the story of a depraved alpha prince.

Two years ago, as a graduate of Werewolf Medical School, I volunteered to go to the most remote and poorest pack, as it had always been my dream to help werewolf patients in need. I heard from my teacher that the werewolves in the Rogue Pack were the poorest and that their living conditions were the worst. Most of the werewolves there were old and weak, so I volunteered to go to that pack as soon as I graduated. After I arrived, I helped them build an infirmary and even set up a blood station. Every year, I led them in voluntary blood donations. But one time—right after I had taken a short break following a blood donation—they turned on me. They slandered me, calling me a selfish and heartless healer. Worse still, they accused me of faking illness, claiming I was lying comfortably in bed while patients were dying—refusing to lift a finger to save them. Not only that, they stormed into the infirmary, seized all my herbs and equipment, and completely trashed the place I had built for them with my own hands. Recalling the days I had spent day and night healing them—only to see my infirmary destroyed and my dream shattered—I let out a bitter smile. I picked up the phone and called the dean of my home pack. "I'm ready to return," I said. "I want to serve the patients in our own pack." Then, without a trace of regret, I left that place behind. However, after I gave up, the whole pack regretted it and begged me to return.