No Game No Life Tet

After transmigrating into a horror game, I realize I can hear ghosts' inner thoughts. "Oh, look, a human! I need to give her a pet!" "Why can't I touch her? Move! I gotta touch her!" "Humans! She's so tame that she's even letting us pet her!" My inner thoughts scream, "Damn it. Now I feel like a monkey in the zoo."

My sister-in-law, Hannah Martinez, was eight months pregnant when someone shoved her to the ground. Due to the heavy bleeding, she was rushed to the hospital. I happened to drive past, but I rolled up my window and pretended I saw nothing, pressing down on the gas pedal. In my previous life, I had immediately taken Hannah to the hospital when I saw her pass out from the blood loss. However, the situation was critical. After the severe bleeding, she developed an amniotic fluid embolism. My wife, Lauren Martinez, was the best obstetrician in the city. I called her, begging her to hurry to the hospital. Yet, she thought I was throwing a tantrum out of jealousy because she was having dinner with her first love, Isaac Poole, and his family. She believed I was using Hannah's emergency to force her to come back. By the time her family finally arrived, Hannah had already died from the failed treatment of the amniotic fluid embolism. Her entire family blamed me for Hannah's death, convinced that I had deliberately caused Lauren to misunderstand and let Hannah die. My brother-in-law, Jacob Turner, who rushed back from out of town, believed their lies. In his overwhelming grief, he hacked me to death with a knife at Hannah's funeral. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Hannah was pushed and started bleeding out.

When my sister, Helen Fisher, was dying of late-stage cancer, she got tied to a system that forced her to win over the fake heir, Shaun Fisher. She begged me to donate a kidney to him. As long as his affection for her reached 100%, she would be cured. When my fiancée, Joan West, was on the verge of bankruptcy, she got bound to a system that told her to save Shaun. She begged me to take the fall for him. As long as he stayed out of jail, she could bring her family back to glory. They both said I was the one they cared about most, that everything they did was out of necessity. But on the day I was released, they hired a group of thugs to violate me, took photos, and blasted them all over the internet. Helen said, "Shaun wants to be my only brother. I have to make that happen." Joan said, "Shaun wants to be my husband. I can't bring myself to say no to him." That same day, my parents called me disgusting and threw me out of the house. Joan and Shaun held a grand wedding. Helen gave them half her fortune as a wedding gift. I was left dragging a broken body, my name ruined, my future gone. With nothing left to lose, I called the director of the lab and gave the order. "Activate the anti-system device." The director replied, "The device has been activated. In one week, every change brought by the system will disappear." Helen would return to terminal cancer and die. Joan would spend her life in poverty. That was their original fate, wasn't it?

When I went to the hospital for a checkup to see if my fourth IVF attempt had succeeded, I saw Daniel Cooper, who was supposed to be on a business trip. He was carefully supporting a young, beautiful woman as they walked out of the obstetrics and gynecology department. Her belly was unmistakably round, and she looked like she was ready to give birth at any moment. Daniel froze for just a second before stepping in front of her, shielding her from me. He explained, "Abby, the Cooper family needs an heir to carry on the lineage. Once the baby is born, everything will go back to the way it was." I heard the certainty in his words. So I smiled, nodded, and quietly tucked my test results away as he stared at me in surprise. On the day she gave birth, I left the divorce papers on the kitchen table and walked out of his life for good.

Su Lan was what people called a hermit. In her life she had no goal and no motivation whatsoever. Her life goal was to live a normal life and favorite pass time was to eat, sleep, and play on her computer. But everything changed when she accidentally pressed an ad of an online game. The next thing she knew her life changed. One pit after another waited for her to fall. Until even with her gentle nature she finally flipped out as she declared to fight her way to get her hermit....cough cough...peaceful life back.

Earth was butchered, wrecked, and scared long before I was born. According to the legends, humans ruin began when the Viatores came into existence in the human world. Viatores are banished creatures from an alternate universe, weaklings who couldn't save their own world and as welcoming as humans are, we accepted them. Redemption, that was what they seeked here on earth but those backstabbing asswipes had other plans. A tyrant, a bastard, known as Nicholas Sylvester led the war. The Changeling. The human rulers had no chance. We were his little project to enslave. He and his seven Lords claimed all continents. On my eighteenth birthday, I was gifted to the King of all Benders: one whom no human dared look at, trembles at his presence. However, in this game of heart and truth, fate has its plan hidden.

While I was on vacation with my parents, we stood on the deck overlooking the sea when my father suddenly asked, "Mother duck says quack, quack, quack, quack. But?" I was about to reply, "Only four little ducks came back," when he kicked me into the water. "What's taking you so long to finish a song? Are you cognitively arrested or what?" he barked. Cold water filled my lungs like lead as I bobbed in the waves. "Help me, Dad! I can't swim!" My mother told the captain to steer the superyacht away instead. "Then stay in the water a little longer. Self-preservation may finally make you learn to swim. That's what you need. Real grit and adversity to unlock your potential." I flailed my arms and fought to stay afloat, but panic took over. My right leg cramped and refused to move. I could only watch the superyacht fade into the horizon. I drifted for a while before I could catch up with my parents' superyacht. I wished I could tell them how many ducks came back, but they would never hear my voice again.

Every year, the village had to choose a girl of age to become the Blossom Bride. The girl who was chosen would be sent into the cave as the village god’s wife. She would spend the entire night with him. If she came out alive, she would be honored for the rest of her life as a village elder. Any child she bore was said to be blessed, destined for a life of effortless fortune. If she died, the village would simply wait for the next year, when another Blossom Bride would be chosen. The blessing of the Blossom Bride was believed to pass on to her parents and elders as well. However, no one wanted to be chosen. To escape the ritual, families quietly left the village, one after another. I was the only one who volunteered. I had a lust problem, and I had always wondered what it would feel like to be with a god.

The second Zoe reset her life and landed back at the Elite Match Gala, she swapped her token with her half-sister's. No hesitation. Because in her previous life, Connor had married Zoe, but she had died helpless and unloved. It was only on her deathbed that Zoe finally knowed the truth: Connor had loved her sister all along. Now, Connor grabbed the bouquet meant for Vicky, eyes lighting up."Vicky, you're it for me. My one and only." Then he turned to Zoe—and the warmth vanished. "Zoe, you've always been like a little sister to me. Don't even think about stepping into Vicky's place." That hit like a slap. Cold, sharp, humiliating. Everyone thought she was pathetic. But this time, Zoe wouldn’t beg for his love. She would bless them instead—marry the man her father had chosen for her, and never look back.

On my birthday, I personally prepare 16 dishes. After setting up the candlelight, I open a bottle of red wine. I take a photo and send it to my husband, Eric Sinclair. "I'm working late tonight. Don't wait for me," he replies. I choose to believe him. But after midnight, I notice an Instagram story posted by Shirley Huxley, his secretary. Eric was there with her, dressed in the trench coat I once gave him. They sat side by side in the VIP seat of football stadium where my favorite Super Bowl take place. Entwined in a passionate embrace, they kissed beneath a sea of shimmering lights and the roar of thousands of fans. That game is the one I have always longed to experience with him. I look down at the cold food on the table. Eric's words keep ringing in my head. "I hate kissing." "Marriage is a partnership, not about love and kisses." Though we've been married for ten years, we've never shared a single kiss. Meanwhile, he's out there, kissing Shirley openly and passionately. Despite it all, not a single tear falls from my eyes. The next day, Eric settles into his chair, completely unfazed. "Return the gallery to Shelly," he commands. I nod quietly, saying nothing. Suddenly, Layla Sinclair, my daughter, comes running down the stairs and throws herself into Shirley's arms. "Aunt Shirley, you're my favorite. I don't like Mom!" In that instant, it hits me—the home I devoted my heart and soul to means nothing anymore. It doesn't matter that I've been married to Eric for a decade. Now, all I want is to find myself again. I decide to accept an invitation from the Parisoir School of Fashion Design. From this moment on, I won't wait for them to come home, and I won't look back.