Seventy Times Seven Tattoo

"Mr. Clarke, can you help me get rid of the tattoo on my butt?" The young man asks me for help with red-rimmed eyes. A lot of people have specifically requested me to tattoo something on their body. Honestly, this is the first time I've received a request to remove a tattoo from one's butt. He grits his teeth, as though he has finally made up his mind. "I just found out that my girlfriend has a husband! I want to break up with her, so I must get rid of the tattoo!" I nod in response. "Strip down and let me see the area and the mass covered." The man hesitates for a moment before turning his back on me and slowly taking off his pants. As soon as his right buttcheek is revealed, I feel my breath getting hitched in my throat. My wife, Annie Sylvester's face is actually tattooed on that area.

Sometimes there are times when your own salvation is not at all happy. For example, you managed to break away from assassins, but at the same time crossed the border of the cursed forest. Or killed the werewolf that bit you, and the first full moon, when you have to turn into a monster, is expected in only seven days. Or… when the one who agreed to help you seems more and more not a person. But maybe the latter is just not so bad after all?

To save my unconscious Alpha fiancé, I got trapped in a glacial crevasse on the frozen mountain. I tried to reach him through our bond ninety-nine times, but he blocked me out completely. When he finally found me seven days later, his first words were an accusation. "Elara damaged her eyes trying to save me, and you just had to cause trouble right now!" "You're a trained mountain warrior. How could you get trapped in a small crevasse for seven days?" "I've had enough of your games. Let's break off our engagement." He thought I would cry and argue like before. But I just nodded. "Okay." He didn't know I hit my head when I fell trying to save him. In seven days, I would completely forget him. But when I finally left him completely as he'd promised, he went crazy, searching the world and begging me back.

I married the same man seven times. He had divorced me seven times for his first love, just so he could spend vacations with her freely, and so she wouldn't have to deal with rumors or gossip. The first time we divorced, I tried to stop him by hurting myself. I ended up in the hospital, but he didn't even come to see me. The second time, I lowered myself to apply as his assistant at his company, just so I could see him more. By the sixth divorce, I had already learned to pack my things quietly and leave our apartment without a fuss. My meltdowns, my constant giving in, and my numb compromises only led to one thing: him coming back to marry me on schedule, and repeating the same old games. Until now. When I heard that his first love was returning to the country, I handed him the divorce papers first. As usual, he made a plan to remarry me later, but this time, he had no idea that I was leaving for good.

They said that every werewolf has a mate but being an omega means, Zeph has no mate that was meant for her and it makes her a laughingstock in their pack. On her eighteenth birthday, a crescent moon suddenly appeared on her forehead without her knowing. Keiver, a Beta who adopted Zeph asks a witch to secretly transfer the crescent moon tattoo from Zeph to his daughter, Hillary. Hunter is the powerful alpha of the Golden Wolf Pack. He didn't believe the saying that a woman with a crescent moon tattoo on her forehead will become his luna so he open a selection for candidates to become his luna. But what if he falls in love with a maid which is an omega, the lowest rank of their pack? Will he choose her despite her lowest rank or the Beta's daughter who has the crescent moon tattoo on her forehead? And what will be the destiny of Zeph, the last omega of their pack? Will she get back her crescent moon tattoo and her right position as the alpha's destined luna or she will remain a maid and an omega forever?

All her life, Ilyana has been rejected—seven times by seven mates who looked her in the eye, called her worthless, and cast her aside like she meant nothing. So when the eighth full moon comes, she is ready for both rejection and humiliation. Until her mate turns out to be the deadly and untouchable Alpha King—Kael Stormveil. And instead of rejecting her… he accepts her. Taken to his kingdom, Ilyana thinks her suffering is over until she realizes that being chosen by the King might not be what she thinks. Now trapped between a king that wants every part of her body but not her soul, a deadly secret that could change everything between them and enemies that would tear them apart. Ilyana must decide, Will she finally be chosen? Or will she remain the pathetic omega everyone knows her to be? Find out.

Seven years after registering our marriage, my husband Gaius and I finally decided to hold the romantic wedding ceremony we had missed back then. That day, I wore the wedding gown I had designed myself and walked toward him with hopeful eyes. Before I could deliver my carefully prepared vows, an incident interrupted the moment. Amid the stunned murmurs of the guests, Gaius dashed toward the woman who had fainted—again—at my wedding. His voice trembled with urgency, eyes burning red. "Call an ambulance! Now!" He didn't even look back as he left the wedding hall. When the wedding bell rang seven times, I calmly pulled off my veil. Facing the guests who had yet to disperse, I smiled and said, "As you can see, today marks the divorce ceremony between Gaius and me. Please, eat and drink to your heart's content. Don't let the trip go to waste!"

In my fifth year with the fallen heir, Connor Garrett, I make 99 wishes for him. As a result, I age and turn into an old woman. He, on the other hand, rises to become the richest man. However, he immediately turns around and proposes to his first love, Nadine Zeigler. He says to her, "Nadie, you have no idea how much I went through to marry you." Nadine toys with a diamond ring worth billions and asks, "What about that follower of yours who grants wishes?" Connor gives a carefree scoff. "She's just a tool who traded her youth for my fortune. Does she really think I will marry an old woman?" I stand in the shadows and silently make my final wish. Without my help, I would like to see how he will rise again this time.

My childhood sweetheart, Samuel Burton, once promises that he will marry me the moment we graduate from college. But on our wedding day, he shows up late. When we finally find him, he's tangled in bed with my stepsister, Vivian Holcomb, in a hotel room. In front of everyone, Ethan Fuller, the heir to the wealthiest family, steps forward and boldly declares that I am the one he has secretly loved for years. Five years into our marriage, he remembers every little thing I say, and I truly believe I am the person he cares about most. Until one day, when I'm doing housework and accidentally find a confidential folder hidden deep in his desk drawer. The very first page is Vivian's resume. On it is his own handwriting. He has written, "Priority. Above everything else." Behind it is a hospital operations report I have never seen before. The date matches the night of my car accident. I was rushed to a hospital owned by Fuller Group, yet no surgeon ever came. By the time I woke up, the baby I'm carrying was gone because I had lost too much blood. I cried in Ethan's arms until my voice broke, but I never told him the full truth. I didn't want him to worry even more. But now I finally know. Vivian was also injured that night, and the order Ethan sent to the hospital was— "Pull every specialist available. Treat Vivian first." My tears soak into the page, blurring the ink. "If I'm not your top priority, I'll disappear from your life then."

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.