The Hello Kitty Case Story

When Roxy showed up at my engagement party to Ian, wearing a dress from the same collection as mine, I knew the marriage wasn’t going anywhere.  The daughter of a homewrecker, Roxy would steal Ian from me just like how her mother took my dad from my mother. However, I'm not letting her get away with it.  Before anybody knew, I trashed my own engagement party and skipped town. I was done playing games.

I lapse into unconsciousness for a few days after a high fever. When I wake up, I see my boyfriend and his best friend standing by my bed. I want to enliven the atmosphere, so I joke, "Who are you?" Eric Cobb, my boyfriend, is taken aback. I almost laugh at the look on his face. Then, he points at his friend, Jonah Mullen. "Don't you remember? Your boyfriend's been panicking over you. As his best friend, I have to be here with him." This time, I'm the one who's taken aback. Unexpectedly, Jonah steps forward and says, "That's right. I'm your boyfriend, Jonah Mullen."

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.

I knew perfectly well that open flames were forbidden at a gas-leak scene, yet as a firefighter, I still backed my girlfriend's childhood friend when he insisted on lighting a cigarette "to calm his nerves." In my previous life, a sudden gas leak erupted during a gathering. Her childhood friend insisted on smoking to steady himself. I slapped the lighter out of his hand and yelled at him for trying to get us all killed. Humiliated, he ignored everyone's attempts to stop him and stormed outside—only to be crushed by an advertising board blown loose by the explosion's shockwave. Later, when I saved a child who had fallen from a building and was left hanging in midair myself, my girlfriend—my second-in-command—maliciously cut my safety rope. She stared at my corpse and said, "If you hadn't humiliated George in front of everyone, he wouldn't have died." When I opened my eyes again, I was back in that room thick with the stench of leaking gas.

My roommate had a strange obsession with taking cold showers on the balcony. She claimed it helped detox her body and brightened her skin. I warned her, “You should be more mindful of your privacy.” However, she only laughed, accusing me of being jealous of her flawless figure. Then, disaster struck. Her shower photos were leaked online, and soon after, thugs showed up at our door, demanding to humiliate her. Instead of taking responsibility, she turned on me. “It’s her! She’s the shameless one showering on the balcony!” Betrayed and defenseless, I was dragged into the woods and left to die, my life snuffed out in humiliation and pain. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back on that fateful day—the day my roommate took her first cold shower on the balcony.

The day Yancy Shepherd died, Benedict Page poisoned our dinner. His eyes were wild, and bloodshot, as he watched me writhe in agony. There was a madness in his gaze, but worse was the hatred, a disgust so deep it twisted his face into something unrecognizable. "If it weren't for you forcing your way into our lives, Yancy wouldn’t have died from heartbreak. You ruined us! It’s all your fault!" A photo slipped from his trembling hand and landed at my feet—Yancy at twenty, looking radiant, her smile as bright as a blooming flower. I collapsed to the ground, my strength fading fast like a rose withering in the final grasp of winter. Helpless, I waited for the darkness to claim me, consumed by despair and bitter regret. Why hadn’t I listened to the system and killed him when I had the chance? But when I opened my eyes again, everything was different. I stood watching Benedict flee our engagement ceremony. My brother moved to chase after him, but I quietly raised a hand, stopping him. This time, things would be different.

The intern secretly submitted a voluntary pay-cut application on my behalf. As a result, my salary dropped from $10,000 to $2,000. When I found out and confronted him, my boss and colleagues all defended him. "The company is not doing great right now. Oscar was just trying to save costs for us. Do you have to nickel-and-dime over this?" With my salary so low, I couldn't afford the special medication for my chronic migraines, and one day I passed out at my desk during an attack. But the intern snuck a video of me unconscious and posted it on the company's website. He even whipped up a detailed 100-page slideshow breaking down how I was slacking off on the clock and dumping all my work on him. Overnight, I was labeled a workplace bully. My boss gave me the cold shoulder, and my colleagues whispered about me. Even worse, some extreme "anti-workplace-bullying" activists tracked me down to my home, showed up with two cans of gasoline, and burned me and my parents alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day when the intern had submitted my pay-cut form. In this second chance at life, I would make sure everyone saw the intern for who he truly was.

In Gangnam, Seoul's district known for it's wealth and glamour, a series of mysterious disappearances and brutal murders occurs. The criminal is quickly called by public the 'Cherry Blossom Reaper' because of his choice for young, beautiful women and fact, that the day after the kidnapping, in the place of the disappearance, he leaves a small bouquet made of artificial cherry blossoms, slightly sprinkled with the victim's blood. When the daughter of the well-known fashion house CEO disappear, the case is transferred to Kim Soo Min, a female detective from Seoul's Investigation Departament. But as it turns out, the case is not easy to solve, even for such a talented detective as her. The list of suspects is getting longer and evidence does not clearly indicate any of them. [ IMPORTANT: This story is entirely fictional, just like its characters. Any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. ]

The day after the new year, during a family gathering, my aunt sneered at me as I worked overtime, reviewing a proposal. "Why are you pretending to be so busy? It’s not like we don’t know you only make three thousand a month. Real money-makers are people like my daughter, a designer so successful she doesn’t even have time to come home!" I ignored her, but she directed her spoiled son to delete all my files while I was in the bathroom. My hands trembled with rage. "This proposal is due in ten minutes—if I don’t submit it, everything is ruined!" She scoffed dismissively. "He’s just a kid. What could he possibly know? Besides, your job isn’t even worth much. If you lose the files, you lose them. Worst case, you get fired." I chuckled coldly but said nothing. She had no idea it was the proposal her daughter had spent an entire month working on. And I was the client who held her daughter’s fate in my hands.

#Warning bacaan dewasa ya, mohon bijak dalam memilih bacaan Menjadi bagian dari keluarga Wilianus, merupakan sebuah kenyataaan tak terduga bagi Case Mowelas. Seorang anak perempuan, yang di besarkan seorang diri oleh sang Ibu. Bekerja di keluarga Tuan Bastara Wilianus, membuat Case Mowelas banyak berhutang budi. Sang Tuan yang merupakan tuan tanah itu pun, begitu menyukai kebaikan hati Case Mowelas. Dia meminta Case, untuk menikahi cucu lelakinya, yang bernama Joe Wilianus, seorang lelaki angkuh, dan dingin. Demi sebuah warisan, Joe Wilianus pun mau, menikah dengan Case Mowelas. Nyonya Sabhira, dan juga Elvina adik ipar Case, begitu membencinya. Nyonya Sabhira begitu murka pada Case, dia menganggap, Case telah mencuci otak ayahnya itu, sehingga membuat persyaratan segila ini. Dimata keluarga besar Wilianus, Case Mowelas hanyalah seorang wanita bodoh yang miskin. Sehingga, membulynya setiap hari, adalah kesenangan bagi mereka. Apalagi, semenjak meninggalnya Tuan Bastara Wilianus, kehidupan Case Mowelas semakin menyedihkan, di tambah keadaan sang Ibu, yang tiba-tiba sakit keras, hingga mengalami koma. Membuat Case harus melapangkan hati dan menyabarkan diri, tinggal di kediaman keluarga Wilianus. Kebencian yang semakin membesar itu, membuat identitas Case akhirnya terungkap. Bagaimana reaksi keluarga Wilianus, setelah tahu siapa Case dan Ibunya yang sebenarnya? Yuk, baca novelnya di BUKAN WANITA MISKIN. hanya di GOOD NOVEL.