The Ultimate Scheming System

I die on my wedding night. When Zachary Gordon receives a call from the police asking him to identify my body, he snorts disdainfully. "Who cares whether she's dead? I'll be there for the funeral." "We're not joking, Mr. Gordon. You should come down here." He glances at the woman in his arms as a hint of impatience flickers in his eyes. "Fine."

On New Year's Eve, Facebook blew up. The reason was that Bennett Miles, the golden boy of Crestmoor’s elite, posted an update. In the photo, a shy young woman hid her face as she leaned against his shoulder while he grinned. His eyes were full of affection and mischief. His caption read, "What do I do? Looks like I'm officially taken." Friends in his circle flooded the comment section with congratulations. The real frenzy began when Bennett announced that the first 10,000 followers to like, share, and comment on the post would each receive a gold bar. The internet went wild with envy and curiosity. Everyone scrambled to find out more about the woman in the picture. Then, someone claiming to have inside information started a livestream. "Stop guessing. Her name is Kara Sierra. You know Sierra Hall at Crestmoor College? That building was named after her! "Two years ago, she had kidney failure. Bennett personally donated one of his own kidneys to save her!"

"Don't move!" Coming home late from work, I was sneaking a shower in the shared bathroom of my rental when a warm body suddenly pressed up against me. His rough palm clamped over my mouth, pinning me against the cold tile. He held me there against the damp wall, his skin burning hot against my back as he let out a low, gravelly threat. "My guys are right outside. Just try and scream." Instead of panicking, I leaned back into him, shifting slightly. I tilted my head back and breathed softly into his ear. “So… you want everyone hear? I don't mind… we can give it a try.”

I have spent ten years fighting against the fake heiress, Cynthia Powell, to secure the Powell family's inheritance. Eventually, we both set our sights on the eldest son of the wealthy Wright family, Robin Wright. In my first life, I secure the marriage, but on the very night the shares are transferred to my name, I die a gruesome death. Blood seeps from my eyes and mouth as I collapse. As I lie there dying, Robin calmly wipes the poisonous powder from his fingertips and smiles at me. "My apologies, Kathy Powell. You have to die for the sake of the woman I truly love." I repeatedly curse Cynthia in my heart. In my second life, I am determined to avoid being murdered by Cynthia and her lover. So, I pass the marriage opportunity over to Cynthia. On their wedding day, I'm relaxing at home with a face mask when the police burst through my door and handcuff me. "Cynthia's car was firebombed on the way to the wedding ceremony, and she was burned to a crisp. We found your fingerprints on the fuel tank. You're under arrest for arson and murder. Please come with us," the police orders. The news shocks me. I'm sentenced to death, all thanks to Robin's manipulation. When I wake up, I'm in my third life. After seeing the Wright family's marriage proposal on the table, Cynthia and I take a step back. A chill runs down both our spines. Robin is a curse. How is it that whoever marries him ends up dead?

In my seventh year of trying to win the favor of mafia Don Ethan Larsen, the system declared my mission a failure. I was set to be erased in one month. I did not cry or make a scene. I accepted the death countdown with calm detachment and started a livestream called "My Last Wishes Before I Die." The first thing I did was throw the multimillion-dollar wedding ring into the drain, right in front of Ethan and his first love, just to hear it clatter out of sight. Ethan's expression hardened. "Nina, what kind of trick are you trying to pull this time? You begged me in order to wear that ring and stood there for three days." I smiled, lifted my middle finger, and replied, "Pfft… As if you deserve it."

I fail my mission and jump off a building to restart the game. Then, I become a billionaire and am rewarded with a handsome young man as soon as the game starts!

Everyone in the mercenary group knew just how deeply Liam Smith loved me and feared losing me. He even suppressed his dark desires to make sure I felt truly safe. No matter how dangerous the mission, he made sure to check in every single day. Worried for his safety, I hid my identity and secretly became his team’s hacker. However, after one mission, I overheard the others joking over the radio: "Chief was in such a rush to pick that lock and go after Wendy. What's so irresistible about her?" Through an unattended monitor, I caught Liam glancing at the camera with a teasing smile. "Didn't I tell you guys that she nearly wrung me dry the last time we did it?" It felt like I had fallen into an ice-cold abyss. My heart shattered, and I summoned the system. [I want to leave this world.] The cold, mechanical voice replied without delay: [Once you leave, all traces of the host in this world will be erased.] [Starting the countdown: Seven days left.]

After the Ritualist declared that Amber would not live past 18, I, a perfectly healthy girl, became the Misfortune Vessel. When Amber broke a leg, my left leg was crippled. When Amber tried to kill herself with shards of glass, the tendons in my hand were severed. I could no longer hold a pen. From childhood to the present, every wound meant for Amber landed on my body. She never stopped testing how far she could go. Skydiving from two miles up. Chasing sharks in deep water. Survival expeditions to the extreme North. Every choice courted death. I cried. I screamed that it hurt. My brothers refused to allow it. "Enough already. It's just a small injury. How could it hurt that much? You're too delicate." "If it hurts, then endure it." So I endured until the day I turned 18. That was when the Shared-Sense System found me. I enabled family sharing, and every single one of them went insane.

The aloof CEO and his childhood sweetheart bring the tragic novel's female lead to an orphanage to adopt a child. All the children pounce on the childhood sweetheart, saying, "Mommy, pick me! Pick me!" The viewers' comments come flooding in. "She can't birth her own child, and now even the orphans don't want her. The tragic female lead is truly pitiful, humiliated by both her husband and his childhood sweetheart!" "The childhood sweetheart keeps winning—spoiled by the CEO, and the orphans scramble to call her 'Mom.' The female lead is nothing but a piece of decor." "It's not tragic enough! Make her even more miserable! It's even better if she cries on the spot so that later, when the CEO recalls this scene, he'll have to work double time to win his wife back!" I glare at the comments, feeling so mad that my short legs push me forward, landing me right in front of the ignored female lead. I tug at her sleeve. "Missy, can you make stew?" The female lead freezes up. "I… I can." My eyes light up with joy. "That's it then! That's exactly what I love. I'll go with you!"

I opened my eyes to a dark, windowless room. Overhead, a voice crackled from the speakers. “Welcome to The Judgment Room. Each player will state the crime they committed. Do not lie. After all six of you speak, you will vote. The one with the most votes will be eliminated. “The game starts now.” In this deadly game, whose sins weighed the least?