Shimotsuki Ushimaru Death

Dahil lang kumain ako ng isa pang extra na paa ng manok kaysa sa kapatid kong lalaki, pinalayas ako ng tatay ko mula sa bahay sa gitna ng isang snowstorm. Noong tumagal, ang tatay ko na isang archeologist ay nahukay ang aking katawan. Dahil sa nawawalang ulo ko, hindi niya ako nakilala. Kahit na noong nakita niya ang katawan ay may parehong mga peklat na meron ako, wala siyang pakialam. Pagkatapos, ang nanay ko ay kinuha ang aking puso at pinakita ito sa kanyang mga estudyante. “Ngayong araw, pag aralan natin ang puso ng isang taong may congenital heart disease.” Minsan niyang sinabi na makikilala niya ako kahit na anuman ang itsura ko. Mama, ngayon at ang tanging natitira sa akin ay ang puso ko, nakikilala niyo pa rin ba ako?

My boyfriend is a forensic artist. He was forced to make a harrowing decision to save his first love. At the killer's demand, he created a portrait from a photo—he never realized that the young girl in the photo was me in my childhood. Two weeks later, the police investigate a grisly bomb explosion and dismemberment case. The victim's identity was unrecognizable, and the investigation dragged on for days as the authorities desperately searched the blast site, looking for my remains. After three days and nights, they finally recovered enough of my remains to reconstruct my face. When my boyfriend unknowingly brought the shattered fragments back to life with his art, he was confronted with a horrifying truth—one that drove him to the edge of madness.

Two years ago, I was one of the Disease Control Agency's best researchers. But while I was investigating a batch of virus samples with unsequenced genetic codes, my husband's true love burned me to death. She poured rubbing alcohol over the virus samples she accidentally dropped and rendered me unconscious with diethyl ether. Then, she set the lab on fire and burned everything to a crisp. When the agency's other employees led the firefighters to the scene, she cried and claimed I'd stolen the virus samples after colluding with an unknown organization. A month later, an odd and aggressive virus spread throughout the city, leading to countless deaths. My husband, Ethan Carter, denounced and severed ties with me before getting together with his true love. The whole city turned on me, crying for my blood. Everyone said I was a spy from an external power. That changes when three daring high school students accidentally stumble upon the cordoned-off lab. They discover my charred body inside.

In order to save his crush, Zach Clark bought a dismembered female torso from the black market. He personally removed the kidney from the torso for his crush’s kidney transplant. To prevent the police from chasing him down, he threw the torso into sulphuric acid to destroy the evidence. But he did not know that the torso belonged to me.

While they slice me apart, I desperately call my brother, Nathan Slade. He finally picks up as my consciousness starts to slip and answers in an annoyed voice, "What now?" "Nathan, help—" I don't get to finish before he cuts me off. "Can't you ever go a day without drama? Gemma's graduation is at the end of the month. Miss it, and I swear I'll kill you!" Then, he hangs up without a second thought. The agonizing pain swallows me whole, and my eyes close for good, tears still trailing down my cheeks. Well, good news, Nathan… You won't have to kill me because I'm already dead.

Right after my bonding ceremony with Alpha Carlo, his first love, Olivia, died unexpectedly. For fifty years after that, I gave everything I had for Carlo and the Shadowmoon pack. We had five pups, and the pack thrived. But then, on the 50th anniversary of me becoming Luna, Carlo dragged me to the Moonlit Platform. He was going to break our mate bond himself. And after he brutally severed it, he drained all my soul power. He said he was going to use an ancient ritual to bring Olivia back to life. And I, the Luna who’d been by his side for half a century, was the perfect vessel. My desperate cries brought our children running, but they just stood behind Carlo, watching me with cold eyes. “Bringing Aunt Olivia back is the only thing Father has wanted for years,” one said. “If you hadn’t been jealous of Aunt Olivia, if you’d used your healing on her, you wouldn’t be our mother!” another spat. The children I’d poured my heart and soul into raising now just wanted me to die. I felt my soul shatter, my heart ache as if pierced by a knife, and then, nothing. I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. Back to the day of my bonding ceremony with Carlo. In my last life, Carlo chose me, his Head Healer. Olivia, though, was devoured by a venom-fang spider and died from its poison. Her death had nothing to do with me, but Carlo blamed me for all of it. This time, looking into Carlo's eyes, I saw the deep disgust there, and any hope I had left died. He was back too.

My husband's adopted sister invited me out to dinner, and while we were eating, disaster struck—a violent earthquake shook the ground beneath us. My husband, a firefighter, rushed to the scene as quickly as he could. But fate had a cruel plan for us. We were trapped beneath a massive boulder, unable to move, and the rescuers could only save one of us. He made his choice. He chose her—the adopted sister who had always been frail and sickly—over me, his wife, who was five months pregnant with his child. I begged him, pleaded with him to save me. But he turned his back on me. The boulder pressed harder, and I felt the sickening crack of my arm breaking. He didn't even flinch. "Alice has always been weak," he said coldly. "If I leave her here, she'll die." But when I died, he lost his mind.

A plane crash tore my husband and his twin brother apart. One survived. One did not. When I rushed to the hospital, I saw my brother-in-law, who had just survived the crash, locked in a passionate kiss with his wife. My husband? He lay lifeless in the morgue. Blinded by grief, I stumbled down the stairs…and lost the child I had spent three years longing for. Three years passed. Just as I was finally learning to breathe without him, I overheard a conversation between his closest friend and my brother-in-law: "How long do you plan to keep pretending to be your brother? Alicia is your legal wife." He adjusted his glasses, voice icy and distant. "I swore to my brother I'd protect Emily for the rest of my life. I am him now. As for Alicia… let her be the debt I carry into my next life." That's when I learned the truth. It was the brother-in-law who died in the crash. My husband, the man I had mourned all those years, had taken on his brother's identity to stay by Emily's side, the unattainable woman he had always secretly loved. So then what about me? The woman clinging to old memories, living in torture for three years. What was I to him?

I am the woman who stays the longest by the side of mafia Don Jasper Shaw. I believe I hold a unique place in his heart. But when his beloved Rosie Hurley suffers violation and falls pregnant, everything changes. Accused of orchestrating Rosie's downfall, I become the venomous villain in their eyes. To shield Rosie from gossip, Jasper publicly claims her unborn child as his own. Meanwhile, I am branded a depraved woman, defiled and discarded. Desperate, I reveal my own pregnancy to Jasper, pleading for our child’s future. He dismisses it as a ploy for attention. When I confront him, his words cut deep. "This is the sin you must atone for. Rosie has always been raised like a princess, and she can't endure the whispers—not like you." For the first time, I realize I am nothing to Jasper but a tool for his desires. Rosie locks me in a cramped cellar, where I suffocate and die. My body lies undiscovered for a month. When Jasper receives the call to identify my corpse, he brushes it off, prioritizing Rosie's prenatal checkup. "Amara's lies are piling up. So what if she's dead? Cremate her and then talk to me." My body enters the furnace and is reduced to a handful of ashes. Later, the mighty Jasper Shaw kneels and sobs uncontrollably. He begs for just one glimpse of me.

Three days after I died, my fiancé got a call to ID the body. He just scoffed. "She's dead, so what? Call me when she's in the ground." The cops, out of options, hit up my backup contact—my childhood friend. He actually laughed. "She's really gone? Not my problem. Burn her or whatever." Then my body hit the internet— And suddenly, both of them looked like ghosts.