

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.
![[ENG DUB] I Was Trained in Death, Not Mercy](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
Ronald Brady, Death Valley's most gifted assassin, is rewarded with five beauties before leaving training. They are secret killers sent to test him—but he has already mastered absolute ruthlessness. He easily knocks them out and earns the title of number one assassin.Years later, he leaves the mountain and finds the poisoned Mabel Chandler, who is being hunted by Ghost Order assassins. She begs for help, but he coldly pushes her aside.When the assassins mock him, Ronald only glances up—and killing intent instantly engulfs the air.

Ronald Brady, Death Valley's most gifted assassin, is rewarded with five beauties before leaving training. They are secret killers sent to test him—but he has already mastered absolute ruthlessness. He easily knocks them out and earns the title of number one assassin.Years later, he leaves the mountain and finds the poisoned Mabel Chandler, who is being hunted by Ghost Order assassins. She begs for help, but he coldly pushes her aside.When the assassins mock him, Ronald only glances up—and killing intent instantly engulfs the air.

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

I died on the day I was supposed to receive the Pack’s Distinguished Service Award. Three hours after I died, my parents, my brother, and my mate were just wrapping up the graduation party they’d thrown for my sister. While my sister, Ella, was posting a cozy family photo on Instagram, I was locked in our basement, using my tongue to swipe on my phone and call for help. The only person who answered was my mate, Ryan. All he said was, "Sophie, cut the drama. Ella's graduation party is important. Enough with the tantrums!" This was the ninety-ninth time they had let me down. And the last. I lay in a pool of my own blood, my lungs still. They thought I was just throwing a fit, hiding somewhere. That if they taught me a lesson, I’d come crawling back. But they didn't know. I was home the whole time. I was already dead.

It was on our wedding night when my husband stole my heartblood to save his childhood sweetheart. His lips were on my forehead as his dagger carved my chest open. "Good girl. This is the last time, I promise," he breathed bewitchingly, his scalding tears dripping on my skin. "Once she's better, let's consummate our marriage." That was what he said, but I had heard it countless times before. In my despair, I used my last ounce of strength to tug on his sleeve. He urgently drained my blood to save another woman, not even looking my way as he did. What he didn't know was that it was my last drop of heartblood. And I was going to die.

In the previous life, Evelyn Lester found that her roommate, Felice James, had planted malware on her phone and stolen her money. In the end, Evelyn was pushed off the roof by Felice and died. After Evelyn came back to the first day of college, Felice suggested traveling abroad again. This time, Evelyn put her smartphone in the dorm and took an ancient phone instead. She couldn't wait to see what Felice would do when she couldn't pretend to be wealthy again.

I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live. When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center. "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid." Ten minutes later, they arrive. Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?" My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this." I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more. The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me. "I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."

I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live. When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center. "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid." Ten minutes later, they arrive. Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?" My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this." I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more. The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me. "I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."

My husband—the mafia boss—loses his first love to suicide. Celeste Reyes couldn't accept that he was marrying me. Since then, Darius Sterling mourns her publicly every day, and we become the kind of couple that despises each other more than anyone else. However, when the Moretti family of Eastbourne sends assassins after me, Darius takes the bullet meant for me. The bullet is poisoned. As he lies weakly in my arms, he whispers, "I saved your life. My debt to your mother is repaid. In our next life, let's not meet again. "I don't want to hate you anymore. I just hope you'll always be the girl next door. Now, it's time for me to be with Celeste." And just like that, he dies in my arms. I cry my heart out, but Darius never looks at me again. Only then do I realize how foolish and childish our hatred has been all these years. Later, after I eliminate the Morettis, I take my own life for him. Yet, when I open my eyes again, I'm back at 20—the year of our engagement. I reject my father's plan for an arranged marriage and choose to go to New Verden to manage the family business. This time, I'll stay far away from Darius and give him and Celeste my blessings.