My 1000th Attempt Worked Novels & Stories

But deep down, something kept whispering that it wasn't. So I tried again, following all the things I did. This time I poured a four and a one. I stared at the number one like it had personally offended me. And I willed it to change. In my head, I screamed at it to become a six. I locked in on it with everything I had, like I was trying to burn the image into the board itself. And it flipped. Right there. Right in front of both of us. That's why I stood up. So suddenly.

I wanted her fire to burn me instead. I had extended the arrangement to one hundred days under the guise of strategy, but the truth left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had one taste of her, and I became an addict. That night, I had not been satisfied. I knew I would crave her over and over again. By one hundred days, I told myself, the hunger would be gone. I would be sated, but who knew how wrong I was. I picked up my phone and rang Tess, my assistant. She picked up on the first ring. “Yes, boss, what can I do?” Her bubbly voice came from the other end.

This was my 8,999th entry, each one a record of another ruined attempt. Was I tired? Yes. Was I frustrated? Also yes. But until I achieved my desire—either to become a mortal or die trying—I could not afford to stop. Lately, I kept having a premonition. A whisper telling me that the day I longed for was drawing near. That alone kept me going. My pen danced across the page, filling the remaining space with notes. Then I paused, thinking for a moment before turning to a fresh page. My 9,000th entry.

he snapped. I remained silent. In the past, I would've been the first to relent. I would swallow my pride and explain my situation in a meek voice. But now, I couldn't be bothered to speak up. A trace of irritation crept into his voice. "Has the cat got your tongue?" "I'm in front of the city hall," I replied. Julian froze at my words. It seemed like he'd just recalled the promise he once made to me. As long as I proposed 98 times to him in front of the city hall, he would show up on the 99th attempt and accept my proposal.

I let out a small, ironic smile, unaware of when the tears had started to trace salty, bitter paths down my cheeks. Dawn was just beginning to stain the sky. I wiped my eyes, straightened my hair, and made sure I looked composed. At 7 o'clock, I had checked in. Aaron's message blinked on my screen, asking if I was on my way. I didn't answer. Instead, I quietly removed him from my contacts. At 8 o'clock, I was queuing to board. Unknown numbers flashed insistently across my phone, but I didn't answer, knowing it was him trying to reach me.

I nodded and agreed. On the last piece of paper, my handwriting was so messy that it was hardly legible. It was as if I'd used up the last of my strength to write it down. "The system told me I'd failed to win Quinn's heart. I have three days left, but that's fine. I can finally stop trying." Quinn's hands shook violently. The papers slipped from between his fingers and scattered all over the floor. It turned out I'd made 99 attempts. Every time, I started off filled with hope. And every time, he personally squashed out that hope.

My fingers hovered over the keypad, trembling so violently I could barely see the numbers. "The pin," I whispered, my mind a static mess of white noise. "God, what was it? 5796? No... 5678?" I punched in the numbers. 5678. FAILED. "No! Fuck!" I screamed, the sound echoing off the concrete walls. Tears blurred my vision. I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, picturing Atlas’s face. 5679. ACCESS GRANTED. The lock hissed open just as the world ended upstairs.

Looks like I'll have to attend that beach party after all. I took the partnership document from his desk. “Where are you going?… Done talking?” he said. “Yes. I just realized you're completely useless at this matter,” I said, walking toward the door. My heels were high and my injured knees screamed with every step. I didn’t fall to the ground this time, but as I stormed out of the office and into the corridor, I accidentally kicked a delicate, ornate antique model van displayed on a pedestal near the private security desk. It broke with a sharp, sickening crunch.

Nothing more. That was the agreement. That was all it was ever meant to be. My thumb hovered. A second passed. Then I hit send. TRANSFER SUCCESSFUL — $1,000,000 I stared at the screen, expression blank. “That should be enough,” I muttered. A pause. Then, quieter— “More than enough… for whatever this was.” I dropped the phone onto the desk and exhaled slowly. Done. My wolf stirred. I froze. Because this time— it wasn’t quiet.

Do I really want to be someone’s pet? No! I shouldn’t think deeply about it. I already paid 50 dollars. No reply came. What if this person already has a pet? Maybe I should try messaging other people? I laid back on my duvet and continued scrolling through the app but finding another “10k” was difficult. I was seeing more of below 5k. The way Frank explained it, I thought everyone on here would be offering 10k. My phone beeped. I quickly sat up. The “10k” replied.