Skeleton In Another World の小説・ストーリー

In her five years of marriage, Elsie loved her husband, Oswald, with all her heart. Even when their life wasn't happy. But now the man she loves so much is looking at her with a hateful look, slandering her without proof. "Tess is awake, she told me everything! You fu*king murderer!" Tess, Oswald's beloved woman, and if she hadn't had the accident, it would have been Tess, not her, who would have become Oswald's wife. And now Tess was awake. Her dream had awakened instead. She didn't want to have to explain. She didn't want to have to go through countless detentions and begging... Elsie looked at Oswald, who was still indifferent, and said, "Let's get a divorce..." Oswald doesn't believe that the greedy Elsie can give up her life as a rich madam, and he assumes that she will come back and beg him for money. Until Elsie's true identity is revealed and everyone is stunned...

Humans, since time immemorial have always been afraid of the unknown. They either destroy or ignore something that they are ignorant of, but there are some that does the complete opposite. They embrace the unknown and control it.

My adoptive younger brother, Jonathan Arden, is getting married soon, so he has invited me to his wedding. It turns out that the bride is Charlotte Vaughn, my childhood sweetheart-slash-fiancee. My parents think that I'm going to steal Charlotte from Jonathan and cause a huge ruckus at the wedding. That's why they've hired 100 bodyguards, who soon have me surrounded. When things are getting tense, Jonathan rushes down the stage and starts pleading with me. "Mom, Dad, I'm sure Harrison showed up without an invitation just so he can give me his blessings. Please don't blame him." Charlotte takes my hand and says to me pleadingly, "Jonathan is diagnosed with cancer. He's afraid that you might be worried about him, so he's hidden his condition from you. I'm pretending to marry him just so he won't die single." I express my understanding toward the couple before giving them my blessings. Delighted, Charlotte promises me, "Don't worry, you're the only one I view as my actual husband. Once the wedding is over, we'll register our marriage right away." What she doesn't know is that I've already booked an appointment in a fake-death program. A week later, I will leave this place for real. After all, I don't want anything to do with my parents and Charlotte anymore.

I married my vampire husband ten years ago and gave him a half-blood heir, abandoning my career as a painter to become a full-time mother. Fortunately, my son inherited my talent. At just six years old, he held his first solo art exhibition, inspired by the theme "My Mother." But he never let me attend, and he never let me see his paintings. My husband said my presence would make Luke nervous---that I should stay home and do the housework as a good wife and mother, and wait for them to come back. I told myself he was just young and didn't know better, that he was only pushing back against my discipline, not truly rejecting me. Until the day I snuck into the gallery wearing a surgical mask pulled low. In the center of the crowd, my husband held our son's hand while tenderly pulling a woman in a red dress into his arms. He turned to the guests and announced: "This is Luke's mother---my wife." The three of them stood together, beaming with perfect happiness. And I---the one who'd stayed up all night setting up this exhibition---stood before the paintings while not a single person recognized me. That was when I finally understood. My seemingly gentle, caring vampire husband had long ago given our son a replacement mother. And I was nothing more than the human nanny who'd served her purpose by producing an heir.

Marina spent five years serving her husband, only to be ridiculed and thrown out of his mansion at the slightest whim. Cast into the cold streets with nowhere to turn, she met a stranger that very night—one who made her weak in the knees. She had no time to mourn her lost marriage before falling into his arms, giving in to a night of intense longings that left her naked on his bed the next morning. She left without a word, thinking it was over. Until he reappeared, determined to take full responsibility of her. Marina thought her life might finally get better, but little did she know, the devil she once knew was far better than the angel she was yet to know.

To be rejected by your fated mate is to be marked for death. Sloane Thorne has the scar to prove it. A rejection mark from Crew Harding, the boy who spent their entire lives tormenting her before destroying her in front of the entire pack. He murders her family, steals everything, and leaves her with a cursed mark that's slowly killing her. Three months later, she's hiding under a fake name when she collides with Kai Volkov. The Ice King. A second mate bond snaps into place. He sees Crew's mark on her skin. Assumes she's a spy and rejects her immediately. But Kai can't stay away. The bond won't let him. He takes her captive, swears it's for answers, but obsession doesn't need an excuse. Every touch sets them on fire. Every stolen glance is a war neither can win. Then Kai discovers what Crew has been hunting. What Sloane's family died protecting. What's been sleeping inside her all along. And suddenly, she's not just his mate. She's the weapon that could destroy them all. Now Crew wants her back. Collared, caged and his. But Kai Volkov doesn't share what's his. And Crew is about to learn that the hard way. But Sloane? She's done being claimed by Alphas who think she's theirs to break. Blood will spill. Alphas will fall. The question is whether she'll survive long enough to watch.

"I, Olivia Walsh, Beta of The Silver Moon Pack, reject Alpha Leo as my mate, my husband, and I would quit my duty as the Beta." The pain is overwhelming as if every bone breaks and restructures within a second. But I won't regret it, someone else would. Olivia Walsh has been suffering from the long-term ignorance of her Alpha, Leo. And this is it, she deserves better, instead of chasing the value of family responsibility, she wants to start over and find her inner self.

On Valentine's Day, I wait for my wife, Nancy Curtis, to get off work after preparing a candlelit dinner for our date. But she only texts me at 9:00 pm. "I have something going on at the company. There's no need to wait for me." Soon, I see a Facebook post made by Nancy's secretary, Derek Jones. "I'm on a business trip with my female boss on Valentine's Day. The thing is, the hotel's fully booked. Oops, this is getting awkward…" The photo in the post features a feminine silhouette standing in front of a floor-to-ceiling window while draped in a bathrobe. Everyone in the comment section compliments Derek for being lucky, seeing as the boss of his has a smoking hot figure and is extremely charming. Derek merely replies with a cheeky emoji. So, it turns out that Nancy's "business" is having fun with her own secretary, eh? I take a screenshot of Derek's post before uploading it to my own social media feed. I even include a smiley as a caption. Immediately, Nancy calls me on the phone and starts berating me. "Derek was just cracking a joke! Why are you being so petty, huh? And here I thought you were mature!" I end the call immediately before texting her, "Let's get a divorce."

A young girl called Flo fleeing her country due to war, in search of a new home. Flo encounters joy and lots of sadness along with love and loss. Will Flo ever find home and a place of safety and comfort in this world of war and chaos.

When I went to pick Diana Grant up, she just tossed the car keys toward me. Dangling from the silver ring was a plush white bear pendant. I paused, knowing that she had never kept a keychain or a decorative charm on her keys. Once I slid into the driver's seat, the entire alignment felt off. The seat had clearly been adjusted. "Did you let someone else drive your car?" I asked, keeping my voice casual. Dazed from the alcohol, she offered a dismissive shrug. "Yeah. I lent it to an employee for a quick business trip." I didn't press further. The next morning, the chime of the doorbell broke the silence of the house. When I pulled the door open, a shy, clean-cut young guy was standing on the porch. He blinked, then forced a sheepish smile and handed over a cup of coffee. "Hi," he stammered. "I'm just here to drop off a fresh coffee for Ms. Grant." But my attention wasn't on the coffee. My gaze dropped to his left hand. Twirling lazily around his index finger was a set of keys, and swinging from the metal loop was the same white bear pendant. I took the coffee cup from his hand and quietly closed the door. In the room, Diana's phone lit up on the table. A new notification flashed across the lock screen. It was a message that read: [Diana, I just met your husband. He looks kind of scary. Coffee was delivered safely anyway. Try to drink less alcohol next time, okay?] I picked up the phone and pulled up the video camera. With the recording running, I held the coffee cup over the kitchen sink and slowly poured the warm liquid down the drain. Then I uploaded the recorded video to Diana's social media, broadcasting it to her entire social circle. The caption read: [Thanks for the concern, but she doesn't drink coffee.]