

Theo and Rose were a couple deeply in love with each other, but their relationship faced great opposition from Rose's family. As if that was not enough, Theo had to watch his own mother who had died of strange circumstances have her body torn apart by stray dogs, all because he was a child born out of wedlock! It was only after tackling the dogs that he was able to salvage a mere few bits of her corpse. In a rage, he would leave to fight a war in the northern borders. Channel

Wynne Yale, the sole Empress-Judge of the underworld, returns to the mortal realm in a borrowed body to avenge her family's unjust murder.She wakes to find herself wed to her childhood sweetheart, Carlos Shaw—now Lord Morvran. He, too, carries his own deep grudges, and is wary yet inexplicably drawn to this wife who rose from her coffin. Now, this formidable pair must join forces, turning the imperial court upside down in their quest for vengeance.
![[ENG DUB] Sorry, I Don't Do Tragic Endings Anymore](https://acfs3.goodshort.com/dist/src/assets/images/pc/common/f901131c-default-book-cover.png)
Zoey Shaw wakes up inside a novel as the infamous villainess doomed to a tragic end.Refusing to follow the same path, she decides to rewrite her fate—no self-destruction, no foolish choices, just survival and a new beginning. When a shameless ex and a scheming rival show up to cause trouble, she’s ready. This time, she protects her husband, claims her happiness, and crushes every plot against her. She clears her family’s name and rises from ruin to glory.

My younger sister, Lydia Miller, and I are unexpectedly reborn into a beastman tribe, where the Beast God gives us a choice of identity. The first option is to become a beast woman with tremendous strength and a tall, imposing physique. The second option is to become a saintess with the ability to reproduce across species and an alluring, graceful figure. In our previous life, Lydia became a beast woman to survive, while I became the frail saintess. She ended up scorned by the tribe's beastmen for not being feminine enough. Meanwhile, I captured the hearts of the three strongest and most handsome beastmen in the tribe with my delicate frame. I became their most cherished beloved. Eventually, they rose to rule the primeval forest, and I basked in endless glory as their saintess. Driven mad with jealousy, Lydia pushed me into a poison swamp when no one was looking. With my last bit of strength, I plunged a poisonous thorn into her body, and we died together. When I open my eyes again, we're back at the moment when the Beast God asks us to make our choice. This time, Lydia rushes to claim the saintess identity first. "Ella, this time I'll be the saintess. Since I pity you so much, I'll let you have those three defective, impotent beastmen." I bite back the wild joy flooding through me. What's so great about serving as a breeding tool anyway? In a primitive society, strength is everything.

My foster sister Sophia, the last purebred white wolf in Grell village, was raped and tortured to death by an unknow rogue wolf. Her suicide note contained only one sentence: "Lina saw his face." From that day on, I became the pack's greatest sinner. Because I knew who the killer was, but I kept silent for five years. Until my foster brother Damien, the most powerful Alpha in North America, returned. He brought back the Soul Vision Device and forcibly extracted memories from my werewolf soul. All the werewolves who had the Soul Vision Device used on them either died or went insane. My werewolf was repeatedly tortured in the device, but Damien suppressed the pain in his eyes and roared, "When I find the truth, I'll send you and the murderer to hell together." But when they finally discovered the truth, Damien went mad.

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."