The Unwanted Pact With My Enemy
To keep her art scholarship, Vesper had to complete a life-size woodcarving for her final project.
But her randomly assigned model was Slade Forrester, the arrogant basketball captain who had shattered her grandfather's priceless antique carving tools freshman year without a single apology.
When Vesper blackmailed him with a ten-thousand-dollar property damage claim to force him into the studio, Slade mercilessly turned the tables.
"I'll be your model, but you're going to do something for me in return."
He demanded she carve a custom piece to help him woo a girl who hated his guts, and forced Vesper to act as his personal spy.
The target turned out to be Vesper's own roommate.
To make matters worse, Slade caught onto Vesper's terrifyingly deep, secret crush on his polite roommate, Julian.
He ruthlessly weaponized her anxiety, mocking her stuttering panic and trapping her in a twisted mutual-blackmail deal that left her completely suffocated.
Exhausted, humiliated, and desperate to escape this nightmare, Vesper logged onto the university portal at 2 AM to register for a quiet online elective where she wouldn't have to see anyone.
But the system lagged, locking her out of every normal class and leaving only one open seat in a brutal varsity physical conditioning course.
With her required credits and scholarship on the line, she had absolutely no choice but to hit register.
Then the syllabus loaded on her screen.
The Teaching Assistant for the class was Slade Forrester.
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Chapter 7
"Mind if we join you?" Julian asked, his warm smile directed at Slade.
Slade's jaw instantly clenched. He let out a heavy sigh and slid over, making room on his side of the booth.
Julian sat down directly across from Vesper.
Vesper's lungs seized. Her heart started beating so fast it physically hurt her chest. She panicked, slamming her sketchbook shut and shoving it awkwardly under her arm so Julian wouldn't see it.
Julian noticed the sudden movement. His smile softened. "Sorry, did we interrupt a study session?"
"N-no," Vesper stuttered, her voice barely a whisper. "Just... talking."
She stared down at the table, her face burning. She could feel Julian's eyes on her, and it made her skin prickle with nervous sweat.
Slade sat perfectly still. His dark eyes flicked from Vesper's flushed cheeks to Julian's polite smile.
One of the teammates sitting next to Julian took a massive bite of a burger and grinned, leaning across the table. "Forrester, didn't peg you for a fan of the fine arts. What's the project? You finally expanding those horizons?"
Slade's head snapped toward the teammate. "Mind your own business, Miller," he muttered, his voice tight and carrying a warning edge that instantly killed the teammate's smile.
The table went dead silent. Miller swallowed hard and looked away.
Julian cleared his throat, trying to ease the tension. He looked at Vesper. "I know you, don't I? Freshman year. Outside the library in the rain. I gave you my umbrella."
Vesper's head snapped up. Her eyes went wide with pure, unfiltered joy. "You remember?"
In her excitement, her elbow jerked outward. It slammed into her full glass of ice water.
The glass tipped over. Freezing water flooded across the table, soaking into the napkins and dripping onto Vesper's lap.
"Oh my god!" Vesper gasped, jumping up from the booth. She grabbed a handful of dry napkins and started frantically wiping the table, her hands shaking violently.
"Hey, it's okay. Let me help," Julian said. He reached across the table with his own napkins.
His fingers accidentally brushed against the back of Vesper's hand.
Vesper gasped like she had been burned. She yanked her hand back, clutching it to her chest. Her face turned a violent shade of crimson, the blush spreading all the way down her neck.
Slade watched the entire exchange.
A sudden, violent surge of heat erupted in his chest. It wasn't annoyance. It was pure, blinding jealousy. He hated the way she looked at Julian. He hated the way she trembled when Julian touched her.
Without thinking, Slade reached across the table and violently yanked the sketchbook out from under Vesper's arm.
"Hey!" Vesper cried out.
Slade held the book up high, out of her reach. He plastered a cruel, mocking smirk on his face. "Since we're just 'talking,' Vesper, why don't you show Julian what you've been drawing? I'm sure he'd love to see it."
Vesper's face drained of all color. She looked at Slade, her eyes wide and filled with absolute terror and pleading. If Julian saw the confession gift she was making for Slade, he would ask questions. Her secret deal, her humiliation, everything would be exposed.
Slade looked into her terrified eyes. The anger in his chest suddenly vanished, replaced by a sharp, painful twist of guilt.
He lowered his arm. He tossed the sketchbook back onto the table in front of her.
"You know what?" Slade said, his voice tight. He stood up abruptly, grabbing his jacket. "I lost my appetite."
He didn't wait for a response. He turned and stormed out of the dining hall, his heavy boots hitting the floor with aggressive force.
Julian watched him go, shaking his head. "Don't mind him, Vesper. He's always been moody."
Vesper clutched her sketchbook to her chest. She couldn't look at Julian anymore. The guilt of what had just happened made her stomach churn.
She mumbled an apology, grabbed her bag, and practically ran out the opposite door.
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8.8
I am the best esports jungler in the league, but I've been hiding a severe wrist injury just to keep my team alive in the semifinals.
Right in the middle of the crucial tie-breaker game, our mid-laner deliberately walked into the enemy team and died without casting a single defensive spell.
He was match-fixing for offshore betting sites, throwing away our entire season for a massive payout.
Because of his betrayal, we had to sub in two terrified rookies, and we were absolutely slaughtered. The stadium crowd booed us out of the arena. The internet exploded with pure vitriol, trending hashtags calling me a washed-up fraud who hid on the bench to save my own stats. The media demanded I retire immediately. My physical therapist gave me a grim ultimatum: my shredded nerves only allow me four hours of playtime a day before my right hand completely locks up.
I destroyed my own body for this team, only to be sold out by a coward and crucified by the very fans I bled for. Why should my legacy end in total disgrace because of someone else's greed?
I refuse to step down. I forced the traitor out, ignored management's safe roster choices, and locked my eyes on the most toxic, universally hated streamer on the platform.
"He's a walking PR nightmare," my coach warned.
I don't care. He is an arrogant, unhinged killer in the game, and I am going to make him mine.
8.3
EDEN
8.3
Elianila, an AI Architect, is part of an elite team tasked with designing a global system meant to prevent threats, manage disasters, and distribute resources to vulnerable regions. After five years of tireless work with her colleagues, she uncovers disturbing anomalies, code-named, X-variables, that flag individuals according to criteria she never programmed.
As Elianila digs deeper to understand what the X-variables measure and where their origin, she finds herself in direct conflict with the authorities. Soon, the System marks her and her daughter as threats - targets to be eliminated.
With a small band of colleagues and dissidents, Elianila goes on the run, hiding in places beyond the Systems reach. As they evade surveillance, they race against time to warn others, expose the truth, and fight back against the omnipresent authority of the System.
9.4
My retirement was finally approved, and I was supposed to be sipping drinks on a sunny beach.
Instead, a cold system voice forced me into a nightmare scenario: "Cursed Mates Who Want Me Dead." I woke up in a stinking cave, trapped in the body of a psychopathic tribal princess.
The memories that flooded my brain made me sick. The original owner of this body had forcibly marked seven of the continent's most powerful beast-men and reduced them to tortured pets. She had ripped the shimmering scales off Jordi the Merfolk prince, gouged out a proud wolf-man's power crystal, and snapped an eagle-man's magnificent wings.
Now, Jordi was a mutilated, terrified mess hiding in a corner. He was so traumatized that he tried to slit his own throat just to escape me. His sister was actively trying to assassinate me.
To make matters worse, the system warned me that if I didn't heal these seven ticking time bombs, my soul would be erased. Yet the future timeline clearly showed that these men would eventually unite, burn my tribe to the ground, and dismember me alive.
I was paying for a monster's sins. Every time I tried to show mercy, they thought it was a sick new torture method. Words were useless, and my very presence was a trigger.
But I am a Tier-S operative, and I don't play the victim. I forced the system to unlock my powers and strapped on my tactical gear.
"Stay here and don't starve."
I left the trembling Merfolk behind and walked into the deadly primitive forest, heading straight for the powerful Oasis Tribe to take back his stolen scales by force.
7.2
I am a top-tier Alpha from another universe, but a spatial jump error dropped me straight into a high-security military isolation chamber.
Right in front of me was a terrifying, silver-haired wolf-beastman Admiral, completely losing his mind to a lethal biological heat cycle.
To survive in this strange dimension where my powers were restricted, I had to pretend to be a helpless, terrified girl.
Surprisingly, my mere presence and scent instantly cured his incurable madness.
But this backfired horribly. He became obsessively possessive, treating me like a fragile, priceless treasure.
When I managed to sneak out to the city's lawless slums to gather intel and accidentally saved a dying panther boy, the Admiral went completely feral.
He brought an entire war fleet, blotting out the sky, just to "rescue" me.
He nearly slaughtered the boy out of blind jealousy, forcing me to throw myself into his arms and cry fake tears to stop the bloodshed.
"I'm taking you home. No one will ever hurt you again."
He brought me to his flagship's secret medical bay and ordered the Empire's chief doctor to run a full genetic classification test on me.
I panicked. If they discovered my true identity as an off-world Alpha, I would be dissected or executed.
I immediately commanded my AI system to fake my blood data, aiming for a perfectly average, forgettable Omega result.
But as the machine processed my blood, the alarms blared, and the system overloaded.
The old doctor fell to his knees in absolute worship, and the terrifying Admiral looked at me with wild, starving eyes.
My system had overcompensated. I wasn't registered as average. I was just classified as the only SSSSS-grade Omega in the history of the universe.
8.8
Genevieve already died once. A silver stake. A half-blood's betrayal. Never again.
She wakes up three years before the prophecy. Her power is intact. Her knowledge is complete. She could destroy everyone who wronged her.
But that sounds like effort.
So instead, she plays weak. She trips. She cries. She hides under desks. She tells everyone: "Sorry, I'm just a weak little vampire."
Let Rosalie and her cheat system think they're winning. Let them steal the glory. Genevieve just wants to nap and eat blood pudding.
Too bad no one believes her.
Now the students are torn between mocking her and idolizing her. Rosalie's system is crashing. And Genevieve's "useless" act is accidentally building a legend she never wanted.
She just wanted to be trash.
Why won't anyone let her?
7.7
Kaitlynn's mother forced her to entertain Jorden, a cold, overbearing professional esports captain who she only remembered as an annoying, mud-eating brat.
She despised him in real life, saving all her admiration for "Hex," the god-tier player in her favorite MMO who constantly spoiled her with thousand-dollar rare items.
Trapped in Jorden's luxury car during a forced errand, Kaitlynn couldn't stand his arrogant attitude anymore.
She proudly bragged about Hex, claiming her online master's mechanics were vastly superior to any so-called professional player.
"He's the absolute ceiling," she declared defensively. "He's way better than you."
Jorden just smirked, his dark eyes dismissing her entirely.
"Sounds like a nerd living in his mom's basement."
Kaitlynn was furious, ready to scream at him, until his work phone suddenly rang.
Right in front of her, he casually commanded his team using an extremely rare, high-tier strategy exclusive to her game.
Kaitlynn's mind completely short-circuited.
Why would the captain of North America's biggest esports organization know Aethelgard's secret meta?
And why did his commanding, ruthless voice suddenly sound exactly like the low, comforting chuckle that echoed in her headset every night?
As Jorden's gaze dropped to the rare assassin class keychain resting on her lap, a wicked, knowing smile flashed across his face.
The untouchable esports tyrant had just realized his rebellious real-life enemy was his deeply pampered in-game student, and her peaceful double life was about to end.