Mirai Nikki Ninth

My marriage certificate with Shane Galingston was lost again. By the time we went to replace it for the ninth time, his childhood sweetheart deliberately raised her voice as she said, "Lily has been divorced eight times and has had nine abortions. She also has AIDS and syphilis… practically every vice in the book. Did you know all that?" With a loud crash, a newlywed couple sitting nearby was so startled that they fell to the floor, groaning in pain. In an instant, contemptuous and disgusted gazes poured in from all directions, pinning me in place. The icy slime of rotting refuse dripped down my face, chilling not just my skin but my heart as well. This time, I didn't hold back. I turned and walked straight toward the complaint counter. But Shane, who had stayed silent all along, suddenly grabbed my arm. He wiped the filth from my face and coaxed me in a low, gentle voice. "Don't be angry. She's just childish—she likes to fool around. She didn't mean to smear your name. "Besides, she's not targeting you. She's just throwing a tantrum at me. How could I not know what kind of person you are?" As he spoke, he shot his childhood sweetheart a helpless yet indulgent glance. "Go ahead and help us reissue—" I pushed his hand away without expression and cut him off. "No need. Let's get a divorce."

On the night of our ninth wedding anniversary, my husband—Damian Grant, the man who ruled the mafia by day and once ruled my heart by night—did not bring me roses. He gave the bouquet that should have been mine to Serena Lane, his personal assistant. Beneath the chandelier where we once danced on our wedding night, he turned to me with that same cold charm he once used to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. “She's pregnant.” Finally, everything fell into place. “She's a picky eater. From today onward, you’ll cook three meals a day for her. And no repeats. “She’s sensitive and hates sleeping alone, so you’ll need to move your things into the guest room.” The room fell silent. I did not raise my voice, nor did I shed a single tear. I simply picked up my packed suitcase and walked to the door. The butler tried to stop me, but Damian did not even blink. “She’ll come back.” He lazily swirled the wine in his glass. “She’ll come back crying and begging within three days.” Our guests burst out laughing. They placed a million-dollar bet right in front of me. They were betting on whether I would be back before the night was over, begging Damian to let me back in like a pathetic stray dog with my tail between my legs. However, they did not know I had already received the family heirloom from my real father. I booked my flight to get far, far away from everyone I used to know. This time, I really left.

My husband had a severe addiction for physical intimacy. However, in the seven years of our marriage, he never touched me, not even once. To suppress his urges, he soaked himself in bone-chilling ice water every night. His arms were covered in needle marks from constant injections. It broke my heart to see him like that. I offered myself to him many times, but he insisted on simply giving me a restrained kiss on the forehead before saying, “Don’t be silly, Summer. I’m not like those animals. How could I ever bear to hurt you? For you, I’d gladly live the rest of my life in a platonic marriage.” This strange, almost obsessive restraint of his lasted seven years. Despite the numerous times he pushed himself far enough to end up hospitalized, he still refused to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a young woman named Anna Brandt came in for her ninth hymen restoration surgery. After the anesthetic was administered, her cheeks flushed red. As her mind grew hazy, she started crying weakly like a lost kitten. Looking at the love bites scattered across her body, I shook my head and assumed she was just another girl who had gone astray. That was until I heard her last tearful whisper. “John Shaw, you jerk.” My hand trembled and I nearly dropped the scalpel. Because my husband’s name also was John Shaw.

This is the ninth year Dante and I have honored the Month of No Masters. The Corinni family's heir apparent believes this will make our relationship last longer. For one month after our dating anniversary each year, he is free, and we stay out of each other's lives. If either of us finds someone more suitable, we are to wish them well. If not, we go back to the way things were after a month. Around me, the men of the family are spraying champagne with abandon. "To another year of freedom! Congratulations to our Underboss on reclaiming his bachelor status!" "The family betting pool is open! Place your bets on the left if you think they'll still get married, and on the right if you think it's over for good!" Through the hazy cigar smoke, I sat on the corner of a leather sofa, a cold observer, as if this whole farce had nothing to do with me. Dante's hand was curled around Scarlett's waist as he brushed past me, whispering, "Don't get any ideas. You'll always be my only Donna." "I'm a kite. No matter how far I fly, the string is always in your hand." I pressed my cold fingers against the gentle swell of my belly, my expression a blank mask. Dante, this time at the family's betting table, I'm putting my money on "the end." I'm going to vanish from your world completely. That kite string you're so proud of? Tonight, I'm cutting it myself.

Pada hari Festival Perahu Naga, suamiku yang berprofesi sebagai direktur rumah sakit lagi-lagi berkata bahwa dia mendapat beberapa jadwal operasi darurat. Jadi, dia tidak bisa ikut pergi mengunjungi orang tuaku. Namun, ketika aku membuka Instagram beberapa saat kemudian, aku melihatnya sedang menyembelih kambing untuk pesta di desa asistennya. Keterangan di konten itu berbunyi sebagai berikut. [ Ibu bilang punya menantu seorang dokter memang menyenangkan, menyembelih kambing pun begitu cekatan. ] Aku hanya mendengus dan menekan tombol like, lalu menuliskan komentar. [ Namanya juga profesional. ] Para rekan kerjaku heboh di setiap grup. Semuanya mengira kali ini aku akan mengamuk pada suamiku. Suamiku langsung menelepon. Aku bisa membayangkan dia sedang mengernyit dengan ekspresi tak sabar di wajahnya sekarang. Andy berkata, "Ini hari penting di desa Nikki. Aku hanya datang untuk membantu mereka. Apa maksudmu sindir-sindir begitu? Nggak ada laki-laki di keluarganya yang bisa membantu dalam acara besar seperti ini. Aku hanya bantu-bantu, apa yang perlu kamu ributkan?" "Cepat hapus like dan komentarmu, jangan buat Nikki canggung di rumah sakit. Kamu dengar, 'kan? Setelah pulang nanti, aku baru luangkan waktu untuk menemanimu pulang kampung, oke?" tambahnya lagi. Selalu alasan yang sama. Andy berulang kali memberiku janji-janji kosong. Kali ini, aku sudah muak dan habis kesabaran. Setelah hari Festival Perahu Naga berlalu dan surat cerai didapatkan, pernikahan kami selama tujuh tahun pun akan berakhir sepenuhnya.

After Cain called off our mate-bonding ceremony for the ninth time—calling it off for the sake of his childhood sweetheart—the Alpha himself came to the Abel family estate to deliver an apology in person. "We are prepared to offer an additional 300kg of frost iron, three hunting territories west of Silvermoon Forest, and nine forges in the pack compound," he announced. "Consider this reparations for the nine broken betrothals." Before his words even faded, Cain's laughter crackled through the phone speaker. "Dad, is she honestly worth that kind of price? I could toss her a half-rotted beast bone soaked in moonlight and she'd still come crawling. You'd be better off funneling those resources into Lina's beast-training arena." The old Alpha ended the call without a second thought. His golden wolf eyes shifted toward me, heavy with visible unease. The gathered wolves stifled their snickers, their throats rippling with suppressed laughter. Every pair of eyes fixed on me, gleaming with anticipation of the show. They all expected me to swallow the humiliation, just as I always had. After all, every wolf in Silvermoon Pack knew the tale: I, the Abel family daughter, had been pining for Cain, the Alpha King's youngest son, for years. Pathetic and devoted. But I'd endured this exact scene eight times before. I was done with it. And more than that, I was done with him. A beat of silence passed. Then I lifted my gaze, searching the crowd until I found the one face Cain despised most: his older brother, Cass. A slow smile curved my lips. "Whoever I claim as my mate inherits the Alpha title," I said. "Does that promise still stand?"

The ninth bonding ceremony between me and the Alpha King, Thorne Ravencrest, is finally here. Yet once again, I failed to become his Luna Queen. Not because he broke his promise, but because I'm not qualified enough. The Elders made it crystal clear that every Luna Queen recognized by the Moon Goddess throughout history must cultivate 365 Moonlight Flowers using their own blood essence. But every year on the eve of the ceremony, no matter how careful I am, there's always one flower missing. This year, I nearly drained myself completely and barely managed to grow the right number. Ecstatic, I go to find Thorne, wanting to surprise him. Through the partially open door of the throne hall, I hear his Beta say to him, "Alpha King, Sera's been waiting for you for eight years now. Are you ever going to bond with her?" Thorne shakes his head. "I promised Willow we can't bond this year either." His Beta hesitates. "What if Sera actually manages to grow enough Moonlight Flowers?" Thorne goes silent for a moment, then claps his hands. A shadow wolf appears and melts into the darkness. Before long, a shadow wolf returns with a Moonlight Flower clamped in its jaws. He tears the flower into shreds and lets out a sigh. "Sera has plenty of blood. Forget one year. She could keep cultivating for another ten years and still be fine. "But Willow's been poisoned with wolfsbane. I'm all she has left, and she wants me by her side in her final days. "I can't bear to refuse Willow, which means Sera will just have to wait a bit longer." I bite my lip hard, barely able to believe what I'm hearing. So the Moonlight Flowers that kept mysteriously disappearing were all destroyed by him. Becoming Luna Queen has been my dream since childhood. But if he never intended to bond with me at all, then it's time I leave him.

During the two months that I was away for a competition, my neighbors insulted me in the neighborhood’s common group chat. [The girl living on the ninth floor, you look like a decent girl. Why are you bringing so many men back home every day?] [Can you moan a little softer? I don’t care if you’re a sex worker, but if you keep making loud noises until midnight, don’t blame me for calling the police!] [Don’t call the police yet. I haven’t had my turn. How much are you charging, Charlene?] My heart sank. Before I left for my competition, I had asked my boyfriend, Jacob Smith, to take care of my luxury river-view apartment. That way, he could keep an eye on my expensive paintings. What was happening? I rushed home in confusion, but when I opened the door, I was further dumbfounded. My 3,000-square-foot apartment had been partitioned into 30 rooms. Meanwhile, Jacob’s childhood friend, Prissy Black, was holding a string of keys as she collected rent money. When they saw me, everyone started laughing. “What? Are you here to rent from Prissy after learning that she’s providing cheap rooms in such a pristine location? “Too bad everyone knows that you’re eyeing her boyfriend. You won’t be able to benefit from doing such a thing!” I was extremely furious as I approached Jacob to talk about it. However, he told me that it was Prissy’s dream to be a landlady. He asked me not to pay it any mind and to treat it as doing a good deed. “You’re rich anyway. Don’t be so calculative. Everyone’s happy now, so what’s wrong with that?” The keys tinkled in Prissy’s hand as if they were taunting me. “This house doesn’t welcome stray animals like you. You have yourself to blame for not having such a nice boyfriend.” The two of them acted all lovey-dovey in front of me, and I immediately called the police. “Someone’s trespassing on my property, and my painting that’s worth 15 million dollars has gone missing. What type of punishment would this entail?”