Scp 049 Scp 999 Novels & Stories

The man hung his head low, his fingers buried deep in his hair, carefully considering where I might have gone. As his eyes wandered, they suddenly fell upon the trash can nearby. Those pink fragments looked so familiar that the moment he saw them, he felt like he couldn't breathe. He slowly crouched down, not caring that the cream stains would dirty his sleeves. He picked up the pieces from the trash can bit by bit. Then, he carefully assembled them back together. There were exactly 99 reconciliation vouchers. He remembered five years ago, when he had looked at those vouchers and sincerely promised me, "Cecilia, don't worry. I'll never give you a reason to use them."

“Come on, this is a joyous day! Mia, let’s wish the Alpha a happy birthday and a wonderful life together with his Luna.” Leonard’s voice was bright and loud, trying to ease the awkward atmosphere. When I stayed silent, he looked at me again over his glass and mouthed, “You can use a forgiveness coupon.” Back then, Leonard had asked me to be his Mate 98 times, and I had rejected him 98 times. I thought he would give up, but he summoned all the werewolves in the pack for the 99th time and got on his knees, swearing to the Moon Goddess,

And tomorrow, every detail of that statement would matter. His phone buzzed on the table. A text from Louis. 𝑆𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑑. 𝐸𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑡ℎ. 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒. Dimitri typed a short reply: 𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑.

The door to my room was suddenly pushed open without warning. My brother, Adrian Hoffman, walked in and scoffed when he saw me staring blankly at my diary. "Aren't you a little too old to be writing a diary?" Normally, I would have argued back. But this time, I didn't even lift my head or respond. Seeing my lack of reaction, he grew irritated and ran his hand through his hair before snatching my diary to take a look. On it was a single number—99.

Player behavior in violation of protocol! A cold mechanical voice blared in a shrill, distorted speech. The space around us began to warp. The walls peeled away like melting wax, exposing a roiling stream of data underneath. No. 99's body started flickering, like a glitchy hologram losing its signal. "You're about to disappear," I said to him. He stared at his hands, which were rapidly turning transparent, then suddenly let out a relieved laugh. "I'm finally free! I don't have to play the psycho killer anymore!"

Then another text came through, carrying his usual unquestionable certainty. [Once I’m done handling this situation, we’ll have the wedding. I promise. Just wait for me a little longer, okay?] I stared at the message for half a minute before blocking his number and deleting every way he could contact me. As the plane took off, I watched the city slowly disappear beneath the clouds. I touched the scar on my face that hadn’t fully faded, then looked down at the bandages wrapped around my hands. There was no reluctance, only relief. Ninety-nine canceled weddings were enough.

I frantically searched my pockets, but the phone I had been holding onto must've flown somewhere when Joshua had grabbed me. Soon, the rash spread all over my body. My face had swollen up from the reaction, and I could barely see through my eyes. Not to mention, breathing became difficult too. If I couldn't escape, I would die in the storage room. As I searched for something to break the lock, I finally spotted my phone that had been tossed to the corner. Overjoyed, I picked it up with trembling hands. However, neither my parents, my brother, nor Joel answered my calls.

"I am returning to Zurich tomorrow." He replied quickly. "Not staying a few more days?" "No. Things here are finished." I deleted Enzo's number. I deleted Rosalina's. I deleted Alberto's. My contact list was empty. A month later, I was sitting in my office in Zurich when an email arrived from Rosalina. It was long. I did not open it. I deleted it. Another came the next day. From Alberto. I deleted that one too. The day after that, Enzo wrote.

I gave a soft, bitter laugh and slowly slipped our documents back into my pocket. “This makes ninety-nine.” “What?” “This is the ninety-ninth time we’ve tried to get our marriage registered.” I turned toward the subway entrance. “And the ninety-ninth time you’ve left me hanging because of him.” I heard her heels stop on the pavement, then suddenly start running after me. “The first time, you bailed on our trip because he was on the night shift and scared of the dark. You took a red-eye flight just to be with him. “The second time, we were practically at the door of the courthouse. You heard he fainted from overwork and left me standing in the snow alone for an entire day.”