Wildest Imagination Novels & Stories

The moment I was pushed into the river by my six stepbrothers and drowned there, I was still clutching a piece of candy my mom had given me. When I open my eyes again, I curl up in my swaddle as a one-month-old baby. That's when I notice six children glaring at me darkly with their hands outstretched, ready to strangle me. As I stare at them, I begin cursing them out mentally. "Just you wait till the day I can speak, you bastards!" My mom rushes out of the kitchen instantly. "It's a rare occasion for me to cook for the family, so I told you to keep an eye on your baby sister. Why are you cursing all of a sudden?" The brothers swap glances with each other in confusion. The oldest brother, Alex Finch, scratches his head. "You must be hearing things, Mom. We were about to play with Meadow. No one was speaking just now." Upon hearing Alex's shameless words, I continue cursing him out silently. "You're the most shameless bastard I've ever seen! When I'm three years old, you'll plot to sell me to an old single man in the countryside! Screw you!" Mom's hands tremble slightly at that moment. She quickly picks me up, her eyes as wide as saucers. I flash a toothless grin at her in return. "Don't be scared, Mom. This time, I'll definitely protect you!" Watch as I, a one-month-old baby, send my bastard of a father as well as the six ungrateful brats to prison!

On the day my husband married my younger sister, I once again heard the divine message from the Astral Sanctuary: if I sever all ties to the mortal world within three days, I can reclaim the astral power I relinquished and return to the Astral Sanctuary. On the first day, I publicly cut my hair to symbolize the severing of love and signed the separation letter, ending my three-year marriage to the man I once loved. Holding my sister in his arms, he looked at me with disdain. His words dripped with mockery as he called me petty and jealous, claiming that sparing me the title of an equal wife had been his greatest act of kindness. On the second day, I drove a blade into myself six times, severing my bond with my cherished elder brother. He stood by, cold and unfeeling, sneering that I was nothing more than a desperate fool, resorting to theatrics to compete for his affection—a devotion he reserved entirely for my sister. On the third day, I clenched my teeth and carved through my own flesh and bone, severing my connection to the parents who had given me life. Enraged, they called me ungrateful and declared I was unworthy—not just of being their daughter, but even of being compared to my perfect sister. In the end, I succumbed to exhaustion and blood loss. My spirit ascended to the Astral Sanctuary, where I reclaimed my true identity as an Astral Maiden. When my family discovered my lifeless body left behind in the mortal realm, they all descended into madness.

It's been five years since I started trying to win over Zachary Pierce. I even went so far as to have a child through IVF, hoping it would finally make him care. But no matter what I do, I can never reach 100 percent affection from him. It always stays at 99 percent. Sometimes it even drops lower. One day, exhausted and aching, I go looking for him. As I reach his room, I hear laughter coming from inside. "She still hasn't figured out the egg wasn't even hers. The moment the baby was born, Zach's affection score for her dropped to zero." "So what if she finds out? She should be grateful that her face looks so much like Yvonne's. Honestly, I'm done entertaining her. It's exhausting." At that moment, everything clicks. All the hope I've held onto, every sacrifice I've made, they were all just a joke. I turn away and say to the system, "End this for me. Send me to another world."

In the third year after my death, the one who remained faithfully by my wife's side was still the bionic robot I had painstakingly designed. It looked exactly like me and carried within it every detail of my mannerisms, speech, and habits. The only difference was that it never lost its temper with her. Because of that, my wife never sensed anything amiss. Yet each night, she brought home a different man, deliberately testing "me," desperate to see the wild jealousy and rage I once wore so vividly. Then, one day, her childhood sweetheart and first love, shoved "me" off the balcony. It was only then, in her horror, that my wife realized… "I" didn't bleed.

After my rebirth, the very first thing I did was ride from one blood donation van to another, giving blood until I nearly collapsed. Why? Because in my previous life, my fiancé's newly hired intern, Shirley Lynch, had bound herself to a blood-exchange system. Every milliliter she donated was siphoned directly from my own veins. In just a month, she transformed from an ordinary college girl into the nation's beloved Blood Angel, showered with fame and fortune, while I, suffering from severe anemia, was fired from the hospital for being unable to work. When I exposed her scheme to my fiancé, he looked at me with disgust and broke off our engagement. "You're selfish and cowardly," he sneered. "You refuse to donate your rare blood type, and now you slander Shirley? You call yourself a doctor, yet you believe in such ridiculous nonsense!" From then on, every time Shirley donated blood, I would suffer heart palpitations, dizziness, and sometimes collapse outright. I begged the doctors in my department for help, but my fiancé blocked every attempt, accusing me of jealousy and wasting medical resources. In the end, to steal my promotion ahead of schedule, Shirley donated a full 1000 milliliters of blood live on television. As her blood drained, so did mine. I went into shock and died. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Shirley first claimed she carried my rare blood type.

I quit and dipped. City threw a parade. Only Jenna Blake—my oh-so-gifted junior who claimed she could "see through killers' eyes"—lost it. At her celebration banquet, she went full drama queen: "I owe everything to Kate Mercer. Please, bring her back!" I laughed. Cold. Not happening. Last time around, I was the hotshot detective. But every clue I found? She dropped it first like she read my mind. People started saying I was washed. So I went all in—three months, no sleep, cracked a massive trafficking ring. Led the raid myself. She beat me there. Again. Place was cleaned out. Boom. She's the city's golden girl. I'm the clown with no game. Pressure got ugly. My head snapped. I died chasing the last scumbag. Then—bam. I woke up. Same day. Raid morning. Round two.

Clayton Amos finally agrees to marry me during my fifth year as the antagonist of a novel. On the day of my wedding, the chandelier in the middle of the hall suddenly snaps and falls. At the most critical moment, he shoves me aside and runs over to protect Gladys Dawson, the protagonist of the novel, and his first love. Clayton's arm is slashed as a result, and blood pours out of the wound, dyeing his pristine white suit red. Meanwhile, Gladys remains unharmed in his arms. I hold a hand against the bleeding wound on my neck and finally accept the fact that Clayton never loved me. This is when the system appears and asks me, "Hailey Paltrow, would you like to abort your mission now?" I nod in silent response. "Since he's going to end up losing all four of his limbs and ultimately wish for death, I'll let him have it."

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.]

Led by my ex-boyfriend, the police raid the base of the major crime syndicate. The antagonist takes his own life, and the only person who could prove my identity as a top-secret undercover operative died two weeks ago. My ex-boyfriend drags me into court. He wants my memories extracted so I can face public judgment and sentencing. Nevertheless, I have no intention of explaining myself. "I plead guilty. Grant me a swift death." The masses are outraged, despising me with every fiber of their being. "Ha! You despicable traitor! You monster! You're a rat who exposes undercover journalists, yet you dare ask for a swift death? "This is the world of a novel. The maximum penalty for a guilty plea is euthanasia, but if judgment is passed by the court, you will suffer endless torment until your last breath!" "You don't deserve euthanasia. You belong in hell!" Rotten eggs and stones pelt me mercilessly. Even with my face now covered in blood, I make no effort to avoid the assaults. I only longed for death. My ex-boyfriend glares at me coldly. "You betrayed me. What right do you have to ask for a swift death? Your memories must be extracted and judged in court. Death will come only after your torment!" They are the ones who demand my memories be extracted and judged, yet after seeing them, why are they also the ones who go mad with regret?

My long-term relationship has finally paid off. At the wedding venue, my fiancee, Dakota Young, has just begun sliding the ring onto my finger when her first love, Kyle Robinson, calls her all the way from the country he's currently studying in. All of my friends know of Dakota as the woman who loves me more than life itself. But this very same woman doesn't hesitate to bolt in the airport's direction with red-rimmed eyes after answering the phone call. My hand is left frozen in mid-air. That's when I suddenly start seeing live comments before my eyes. "Holy hell! I just took a glimpse at the profile picture of her first love! He looks exactly like the corpse who's delivered to my department!" "Seriously? Don't go around scaring me right now! I believe in the power of science!" "Either he has a twin, or you just got the wrong person! Stay calm!" My jaw goes slack, yet I can't utter a word after a while. I know who Kyle is. That man used to be her classmate back in college. But I also remember very clearly that he's the only child in his family…