Redo Of Healer Blade Death

There was a ten-year gap between me and my sister-in-law, but we got along surprisingly well, especially given that we were both in an absurdly rich family. Then, one day, she came to me, bawling and clutching a photo in her hand. "Your brother is cheating on me! He has a family somewhere else! For more than ten years! I'm getting a divorce!" Crying, I showed her a message I got from my husband's mistress. "That bastard Christopher has a mistress! I'm leaving this home!"

He says I’m his mate. His Luna. The one the prophecy spoke of. But I’m not a wolf. I’m an assassin. And I was sent to kill him. Kaelor Voss is everything I was raised to hate, powerful, ruthless, Alpha. And yet… when he touches me, I feel the bond they swore didn’t exist. If I run, I’ll break us both. If I stay, I’ll burn everything I’ve ever known. I never believed in fate. But now fate believes in me.

My esports team is engaged in a practice match at midnight. Suddenly, my coach hands a phone over to me. On the other end of the line, my dad cries hysterically. Amid his sobs, he tells me that my mom is currently unconscious in the hospital, and that the doctor has issued him a critical notice. Apparently, my mom's funeral is being prepared in advance, so my dad wants me home immediately. As I stare at the match-up diagram of the final round of the national-level competition as well as the seven-figure prize money, I reply icily, "I'm not going home. I must participate in the final round tomorrow. During the competition, my phone will be turned off. Don't disturb me no matter what."

Manolya expected a quiet summer with her cousins in their small Turkish coastal town. But a vanished woman, a hidden weapon, and a demon protector drag her into the same darkness that once claimed her mother. Following the trail pulls her deep into the obsidian dimension, where black magic thrives and a long-buried evil stirs awake. Because some family secrets are worth dying for - and others are the reason you will be killed. Can Manolya survive the truth buried in her own family?

The most powerful Godfather in the mafia underworld—Dante Costello—had an expensive diamond signet ring custom-made to fit my finger perfectly and sent straight to our home. He said that whoever could wear the ring would become the lady of his family. The Monroe family had long since fallen from grace. All that remained were four women. On ordinary days, we fought endlessly, tearing each other apart. Every single one of us wanted to marry Dante because marrying him meant preserving a life of dignity and comfort. In the first life, the fake heiress, Blair, secretly had the ring resized smaller and married into the family. Dante took one look at her, then had her thrown into the river to drown. “Not her.” In the second life, my cousin, Chloe, underwent plastic surgery to alter her fingers and force the ring on. Dante gifted her a staged car accident. “Still not her.” In the third life, my stepmother, Catherine, clenched her teeth and forced the ring onto her finger. Her blood hadn’t even dried when she married Dante. He coldly slashed her face, then locked her in the basement, where she slowly wasted away until death. By the fourth life, all three of them were terrified. None of them dared to marry him anymore, so they hurriedly pushed me forward instead. I put on the ring. This time, the size was perfect. Just when I thought my good days had finally begun, Dante stabbed me to death on our wedding night, his eyes burning red with madness. After my rebirth, the consigliere of the Dante family delivered the ring once again. This time, all four of us avoided it like the plague.

Siron, a naive and humorous 20-year-old, lived with an ancestral curse he had never believed in. Thousands of years ago, Morat, a male shifter betrayed and murdered by the kingdom, cursed the entire line of the royal family’s men. Now, in the modern era, Siron was the last heir to that curse. His parents constantly pushed him to attend the temple for protective rituals, but Siron always evaded them, dismissing the curse as just an old story. But everything changed when Morat began to manifest, first as a faint shadow, then as a horrifying figure haunting Siron’s apartment. When Siron accidentally performed an ancient blood ritual that appeared in his dreams, Morat’s form transformed into a handsome man… but only temporarily. Terror, sensuality, and manipulation slowly began to engulf Siron’s life. Amidst a mix of fear and pleasure, Siron started to become addicted to Morat’s presence, even as he tried to find a way to break the curse that entangled his life.

[WARNING: SMUTTY PARANORMAL ROMANCE WITH AN OBSESSIVE, POSSESSIVE MMC. DETAILED SMUT AND VIOLENCE.] “Touch her and die.” That’s the first thing Caelum Veyr says to the world after he claims me. I’m no one. A ghost girl in a rotting slum. Unwanted, forgotten, one breath away from death. Until he appears. Violet-eyed, terrifying and kills the man who tried to take me. He says I’m not human, something called a Null. A freak who makes death unravel just by existing. So he forces me into a blood-marriage. Chains me to his supernatural empire., says I belong to him now. The worst part? I want to belong to him. Even though his touch kills, even though every kiss might break the world, even though the prophecy says I’m the end of everything. Now the Death Courts want me erased. The gods fear what I carry, my power is growing. My name is turning divine. And Caelum? He says he’d die for me. Too bad I’d burn the realms for him first.

“I will choke you to death till you beg for me to stop but I won’t. I will make you pour out all the water left in your body with my tongue”. In a sudden and tense encounter, I found myself desperately seeking answers from him. But his silence only fueled my frustration. With emotions boiling over, I couldn't contain my anger, clenching my fist as I shot him a piercing look. Undeterred, I pressed on, demanding a response, my annoyance growing palpable. However, his explosive reaction caught me off guard, as he silenced me with a fierce command, his grip on my face sending shivers down my spine. The chilling intensity of his eyes left me paralyzed, consumed by fear. I realized I had provoked a dangerous force, a man exuding an aura of unapproachable defiance. Tears welled up as his grip tightened, and my helplessness only deepened. The emotional storm between us unveiled a side to him that was ruthless and merciless, living up to the ominous title he bore. With a final, venomous word, he tore away a bandage and stormed out, leaving me to grapple with the unsettling encounter that had just unfolded.

The System told me that, as a player, I stood a chance of reviving my beloved if I played the game enough times. As such, I gave my heart to charm Mila Gibbs, even if it meant dying ninety-nine times. When I played the game for the hundredth time, Mila sent me into a room with a deviant just for her true love's fancy. "You're not going to die anyway. Just make Julian laugh, and I don't mind marrying you." She didn't know that once I played the game a hundred times, my wish would be granted, success notwithstanding. I shall hence disappear from her world without a trace.

After my parents died, the family went bankrupt, leaving my brother and me with a large sum of debt. To pay it off, he became a haunted-house test sleeper, while I acted as a corpse on film sets. For five years, we worked tirelessly, not daring to rest a single day—and still, the debt wasn't cleared. By the end of the year, only 13 thousand dollars remained. Gritting my teeth, I signed up as a clinical trial volunteer. When it was over, I dragged 13 thousand dollars in cash, brimming with joy, to show my brother. But I found him frowning, on the phone. "Dad, Mom, Lily's doing well. Have fun abroad," he said. "She's stopped spending recklessly. The punishment ends next year." What? Our parents weren't dead? Our family wasn't bankrupt? The five years of hardship, every ounce of struggle—I'd endured it all as punishment for my love of spending. My smile froze on my face. My stomach churned violently. A mouthful of fresh blood spilled out.