Manner Of Death

เมื่อพลังแห่งความตายถูกปลุกให้ตื่น โลกถึงคราวโกลากล ยุคสมัยแห่งวันสิ้นโลกได้มาถึง เหล่าฆาตรกรได้รับพลัง จากการฆ่าเพื่อความบันเทิง สู่การฆ่าเพื่อสร้างกองทัพซอมบี้ของตน ผู้ที่เคยสังหาร ไม่ว่าจะเชือดไก่ไปจนถึงบี้มด จะปลุก ‘ไอโลหิต’ ส่วนผู้ที่เคยสังหารเผ่าพันธุ์เดียวกัน จะปลุก ‘ไอทมิฬ’ หรือก็คือผู้ที่มีไอทมิฬ คือ 'ฆาตกร' ในวันที่หมอกโลหิตปกคลุมโลกทั้งใบ ชายหนุ่มก็ทิ้งร่างลงมาจากตึกเก้าชั้น แต่ผู้ที่อยากตายอย่างเขากลับไม่ตาย 'ไพเรนทร์' ไม่รู้ว่าเขาปลุกไอทมิฬขึ้นมาได้อย่างไร จนกระทั่งเขาถูกพาออกไปนอกกำแพงเพื่อใช้เป็นเหยื่อล่อฆาตกรอันดับที่สิบเจ็ด ความลับแห่งพลังที่ซุกซ่อนไว้กว่าสิบสองปี สาเหตุที่ไพเรนทร์ยังมีชีวิตอยู่ เพราะพลังของเขาคือ 'อมตะ' เมื่อความตาย กลายเป็นพลัง ผู้ที่ ‘อยากตาย' จึงกลายเป็นผู้ที่แข็งแกร่งที่สุด

When Elijah cheated, I didn’t cry or make a scene. I pretended not to know. When he kept Naomi on the side, I forced down the pain and endured it. After all, I had a lovely son with Elijah. He loved me, and I wanted to give him a complete family. It wasn’t until the day I found out that my son, Kai, had gone with Elijah to that other home and was calling Aunt Naomi with affection that I stopped wanting to endure it any longer. I told my childhood friend that I wanted a divorce. He looked at me deeply, saying, “Hazel, everyone in Neopolis knows that Elijah loves you with his life. His influence covers the entire city. Leaving him won’t be easy.” However, I replied numbly, “Then let Hazel die. Let her die in front of Elijah. Let him watch his wife disappear with his own eyes. From that moment on, there will be no more Hazel Foster in this world.” When I learned that Kai preferred Naomi, I realized that the past two years of endurance had been nothing but a joke. This time, I don’t want either my husband or my son anymore.

The Horror Game invaded the world. Real players entered the game, and their every move would be broadcast live. My adopted son shoved me—an eighty-eight-year-old woman—straight into a deadly dungeon to save his own skin. One of the comments in the live stream predicted: [What? They’re tossing in such an elderly woman? No way she’s gonna survive the first night!] On the first night, a frost-bitten ghost exhaled icy breath in my face. I shrugged off my thick floral coat, feeling sorry for her. “You poor thing! You must be freezing. Listen to me and bundle up quickly!” The second night, a starving ghost lunged at me with blood dripping down his chin. I sniffed the air, then found a jar of pickled cabbage. “Look at how skinny you are! Come on, let me get you something hot to eat.” On the final day, the last surviving players tied me up, desperate to steal the one ticket to escape. However, before they could touch me, every ghost in the dungeon came storming out, cleavers and rolling pins in hand. “Touch her, and you’re dead meat!”

In the late stages of her pregnancy, my wife slipped away into the mountains with her childhood sweetheart, seeking some reckless thrill under the open sky. Fate, however, had other plans. She suffered a massive hemorrhage, and the two were rushed to the hospital. As a doctor, I took one glance at her condition and instructed the nurse to prepare for the cremation. In my previous life, I had risked everything to save her. On that very operating table, she and the child inside her perished together. Her childhood sweetheart, overcome with grief and fury, rallied others to accuse me of seeking personal revenge. Their rage was relentless, and they broke my hands. "A butcher like you, without medical ethics, deserves nothing less than eternal damnation!" they shouted, their words burning like brands on my soul. Yet I distinctly remembered—the surgery had been a success. Her vital signs had stabilized. Clinging to hope, I begged my in-laws to conduct an autopsy, to uncover the truth buried beneath the accusations. Instead, they called the police, who swiftly charged me with performing surgery under the influence of alcohol. Stripped of my rights, I was thrown into prison, where suffering became my only companion. Years later, upon release, I stumbled across a sight that tore what was left of my heart to shreds—my wife, alive and well, behind the wheel of a luxury car, accompanied by her childhood sweetheart and their child, living off the fortune I had worked tirelessly to build. Their betrayal didn't end there. Coldly and methodically, they lured me into a trap, casting me into a cement mixer to erase every trace of my existence. When I next opened my eyes, time had rewound itself. I was back on that fateful day, the one when her hemorrhage began.

On the third day after my death, Eliza Sutton received the call to claim my body. She was resting in another man's arms. She said nonchalantly, "He's dead, huh? Just cremate it and call me afterward." My body was fed to the flames and reduced to ashes. When the staff were done, they contacted Eliza again. Irritation flashed in her eyes as she snapped, "I heard you. I'm on my way."

All because he believed I pushed Elena down the stairs out of jealousy. Six months ago, a rival family drugged Alexander. Elena saved him and got pregnant. Her family disowned her for it. "Ivy, why can't you just let her be?" Alexander choked me, disappointment and rage in his eyes. "She saved my life! I promised to send her away. Why be so vicious to an unborn child? If anything happens to them, I'll bury you with them." I didn't argue. I just planned an explosion. But when I vanished, the high-and-mighty Don went mad.

My wife was a surgeon. She saved plenty of lives in her career. However, the only person she failed to save was me. When I was involved in an accident with her long-time crush, she immediately saved him instead. I had been dead for three months, and that was when she realized the person who had been messaging her during this time was not me and started to panic.

They told me an alpha’s daughter must choose a man to take the rank and position of Alpha of her pack. Why? They said I was too fierce, too headstrong, that this was my father's last wish. Was it? They picked out potential partners and pushed their top choice forward.They said he's the best man for the job. Was he? Lies. In this labyrinth of deceit and manipulation, a twisted game of power and betrayal is at play. They think I have nothing but they're wrong. I have two men ready to stand by my side. Julian Knight, my bodyguard. A man they don't realise is ready to d!e for me. And Quade Steele, the Lycan King. A man as dangerously powerful as he is handsome, offers me his partnership. I know he has his own agenda, but what is it? I'll pay any price for revenge because I am the very storm that will destroy them all. I’ll reclaim what’s mine, turn the world on its axis, and become the ultimate master of the very game created to ruin me. My name is Layla Blackwell and I'm nobody's b!tch.

In my previous life, my husband suffered a sudden brain hemorrhage and died instantly in his office. When I arrived at the hospital, all that awaited me was his lifeless body. Overwhelmed with grief, I coughed up blood and was bedridden ever since. On my deathbed, I happened to see a news report—my husband had won a $15 million lottery. Standing beside him at the prize ceremony was none other than my best friend. The shock killed me on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my husband had just died.

After getting fired from my company, I returned to the countryside, spending my days playing rummy with my grandmother, but my entire family went insane, searching for me everywhere. It was because my younger sister, the family's prodigy jewelry designer, couldn't come up with a single design after I left. In my previous life, at the National Jewelry Design Competition, she managed to produce designs identical to mine before I even finished mine. Everyone assumed I had copied her work. Even my own family testified in her favor. The company accused me of misconduct and plagiarism, claiming my actions had tarnished their reputation. I was fired on the spot and ordered to pay a huge fine. My family, seeing me as nothing but a burden, threw me out of the house. Crushed by the weight of family betrayal and public judgment, I fell into depression, only to be killed on the street by one of my sister's obsessive fans. As my consciousness faded, I couldn't understand why my sister managed to create the exact same design before I did. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day I just signed up for the National Jewelry Design Competition.