Story About Werewolves

“เขต ปล่อยเนียร์นะ เจ็บ!!” “นี่ไง อาณาเขตที่เธออยากได้นักหนา!! นี่ไงซาเนียร์!!!” “เนียร์ ไม่ได้…ฮึก! ปล่อยนะ!!” “วันนั้นเธอเสนอตัวมาให้ฉันเอาถึงห้อง!! ยังบอกว่าไม่ใช่หรือไง!!!” เพียะ!!!!! ฝามือเล็กๆของซาเนียร์ฟาดลงบนหน้าหล่อๆของอาณาเขตเต็มแรง “เขตเคยฟังเนียร์มั้ยว่าเกิดอะไรขึ้น ฮึก!” “คงเกิด!! เกิดอยากได้ฉันจนตัวสั่นไง!” “ว่าไงนะ” “เธอจำไว้ ว่าเธอกล้าทำฉันเจ็บ เธอต้องเจ็บกว่าฉันเป็นร้อยเท่า!” “……” ชายหนุ่มเดินออกจากคอนโดของหญิงสาวไปด้วยความโมโห เขาเจ็บเจียนตายสาเหตุมาจากผู้หญิงคนนี้ เพราะเธอ ความรักของเขาต้องพังลงจนไม่เหลือชิ้นดี

ความถูกต้องกับความรักมักสวนทางกันเสมอ... ในเมื่อเลือกใครไม่ได้ ก็รักมันไปทั้งสองคนนั่นแหละ!

I dropped by to help my younger sister revise her thesis, and while I was at it, I joined her research group for dinner. The moment I walked into the private dining room, a few girls blushed and called out to me. “Hey, handsome, are you single? Give us a shot!” My sister’s boyfriend, Eric Pensworth, looked at me with a faint smile. “Man, you look kind of familiar. You remind me of that pretty boy everyone’s been talking about on the forum. “They say you slept with Professor Alva Jackson and stole my direct-entry PhD spot.” I froze. The Alva Jackson he was talking about was the newly hired professor at Adams University, fresh back from overseas. Just as I was about to explain, he cut me off with an innocent look. “Maybe I got the wrong guy. You look way too respectable to be the kind of guy who lives off women. “But Professor Jackson’s nearly fifty. How could you even do it with her?” I stared at him, completely dumbfounded. Since when had I become a fifty-year-old woman? Was there another Alva Jackson at Adams University besides me?

Three years after our breakup, I ran into my ex-girlfriend, and she had her new boyfriend by her side. "Hey, isn't that Henry the expert?" Diego Stanley taunted with a smirk. "Three years post-breakup, and you're slumming it here playing with clay?" I furrowed my brow, ignored them, and carefully moved the Victorian-era porcelain musician figurine onto its preset base in the display case. When I wasn't biting, he reached out to grab the figurine from my arms. "What's this junk you're treating like gold? Let me take a look." Cynthia Wyatt frowned, her voice laced with that familiar arrogance. "Henry, I've given you three years to shape up, and you're still the same loser? Come on, hand over that clay doll to Diego. Don't kill the vibe. If you play nice, I might even reconsider our old engagement." As Diego's hand neared the figurine, I dodged quickly and barked, "Hands off! It's a historical artifact!" Diego got pissed off and shoved me hard. "Some flea market find, and you're acting all high and mighty?" In the ensuing scuffle, I lost my balance, and the figurine slipped from my grasp, crashing to the floor. That sealed their fate. This entitled pair was about to go bankrupt trying to fix it.

Cynthia is a pregnant cheerleader. Her boyfriend ghosted her immediately after she told him the news. Her brother's best friend, the hockey captain Asher, threw a party and invited all of her boyfriend's flings, and they unite to dump him in public. Cynthia said, "Thanks for always being a big brother to me." Asher raised his eyebrow and asked, "Brother? How about your baby’s dad?"

I worked for a restaurant, and our boss loved making empty promises about giving us restaurant shares. The boss said we would start with zero shares, but we could earn 0.01% for every two hours of overtime, covering someone else’s work or saving the restaurant 1,000 bucks. I suggested she write this down in an official document and have someone track it properly. She just smiled and told everyone to work harder. She never actually put it in writing. The experienced staff did not believe her, but one prep cook took it seriously. At the end of the year, he went to the boss to claim his shares. The boss said, “Sorry, the head chef told me there’s no official document, so it doesn’t count. You can’t claim any shares.” The prep cook worked hard all year and got nothing for it, so he took his anger out on me. The day before I was going home for the New Year, he killed me with a knife. “If you hadn’t said it doesn’t count without an official document, this whole restaurant would’ve been mine!” I lay in a pool of blood. When I opened my eyes, I was back to the day the boss first made those empty promises.

I am the orphaned hybrid of a vampire and a werewolf. After my parents died, I was sent to the Silvermoon Pack, taken in by a distant relative on my father's side. They had three sons—triplets—each carrying the noble Alpha bloodline. In public, they were the epitome of grace and charm. But behind closed doors, they were my living nightmare. They despised me. To them, my blood was a stain, my existence a mistake. But in their world, I was more than just an outcast—I was prey. They made a bet: who would be the first to have me? To them, it wasn't just about desire. It was about possession, control. A way to chain me to them, to turn me into their plaything. They drugged me and watched as I collapsed at their feet, powerless, theirs to toy with as they pleased. In the end, they ruined me. Smeared my name until the whole pack sneered at me. Then came the bonfire festival. They tricked me away from the crowd and threw me into a pit—a collapsed silver mine, its air thick with toxic silver dust. Torches rained down, their flames licking at the walls, while the silver seeped into my body. It poisoned me slowly. Bit by bit, my body unraveled. And finally, my consciousness dissolved into the dark. But when I opened my eyes again, everything had reset. I had returned to the beginning. One of the triplets, Reine, smirked as he leaned in, his voice laced with amusement. "Ayla, what a beautiful name. May I invite you to the bonfire festival?" The bonfire festival? Of course. This time, let's make it your last night.

It all began with a single post about canceling a food delivery order. Overnight, I became the internet's punching bag. Thousands of vicious messages flooded my inbox, filled with photoshopped memorials urging me to die. They doxxed my family, plastered my personal details across shady websites, and used AI to create obscene images of me, spreading them in vile chat groups. They spread lies about my income, claiming it came from illicit sources, and accused me of carrying diseases. I didn't call the police or block the messages. Instead, I read every hateful word before singling out the 100 worst offenders. Every day, I sent each one a luxurious meal: Boston lobster, Australian wagyu, the works. Each delivery came with a simple note: [Thank you for your hard work.]

Alex Robert Macrobat is 30 years old. She was a Lesbian and was born as a human. She became a werewolf when her mother was killed by the werewolf. She abandoned her home in the countryside and went to the United States. She met her werewolf clan and learned to control her werewolf form. Alex gave birth to a son, Prince Kai, who inherited her werewolf genes and looked like his father, Kim. The werewolf race multiplied and became a community. One day, the old werewolf chose Prince Kai as the new wielder of the supreme god, the twelve-tailed werewolf to lead the clan. The other clan didn't agree and declared war against them. Prince Kai, the half-werewolf son of Alex and Kim, is destined to be the wielder of the supreme god Werewolf. But the other werewolf clans don't agree, and they declare war. Prince Kai is one of the alphenos who possesses the most powerful supreme god. But all the alphenos were hunted by the group of evil werewolves, the rouge werewolves. Will Prince Kai survive and become the next werewolf's ancient supreme God? This is a story of love, loss, and redemption. It is a story about finding one's true identity and embracing one's destiny. It is a story about the power of family and the importance of fighting for what is right.

"The Rossi family doesn't need a Don. We just need a Donna." As the only heiress of the Rossi family, this was the law that I had set when I received the Browning pistol—a pistol that resembles the ultimate authority in the Rossi family—from my Papa when he was on his deathbed. But three years ago, the police relentlessly investigated the money laundering business that my fiance, Lorenzo Moretti, was in charge of. If that business were to get exposed, the Rossi family's hundred-year-old legacy would be ruined. In order to protect my family's legacy and to allow Lorenzo to continue legalizing my family's businesses, I decided to become the scapegoat for all the crimes. On the rainy night of my arrest, I personally handed the pistol over to Lorenzo. "Protect my family for me before my return." This gave Lorenzo legitimate authority to run my family. He used the pistol to purge my subordinates and take over the family business. He even broke my law by announcing to the public that he'd become the next Don soon. An invitation with golden borders is soon leaked from the family's inner circle. Lorenzo's and another woman's names are printed on the cover. During a visit, my private lawyer says mockingly, "If you don't get out of prison now, the Rossi family might take on another man's last name for real." I just sneer in response. After that, I get bailed out of jail in advance and return home to celebrate Lorenzo's "funeral". But no matter how many times I scan my iris at the biometric scanner in the estate, the result always comes out wrong. A young woman, who's toying with the pistol, opens the door at that moment. The contempt and disdain in her eyes are plain to see. "Where the hell did a crazy woman like you come from? You came to the wrong place. This is my private turf, you know."