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Urban Romance

A Joke That Nearly Killed Me
I'm a photographer who has been specifically invited by Native Geographic to hike up Mount Morac in order to take a cover photo for the next issue. Halfway up the mountain, I feel short of breath, and my heart keeps hammering in my chest. At the same time, I can feel my temples pulsing rapidly. Realizing that these are the symptoms of altitude sickness, I quickly dig out an oxygen canister and inhale from it sharply. But as soon as the gas hits my lungs, I realize that something is wrong. Immediately, I turn to look at my fiance, Julian Gray. "What the hell is this?" Strangely enough, my voice comes out shrill and high-pitched. I sound just like a cartoon character. As soon as Julian and his junior colleague, Bianca Reed, hear my voice, they burst out in laughter. "Ahahaha! Oh my god, you're too funny! Hahahah!" Both of them holler in laughter. Bianca even starts hammering the snowy ground in a dramatic fashion. I instantly realize that Julian and Bianca have secretly swapped out the life-saving oxygen canister to a helium canister instead just so they can pull a prank on me. Once they finally have their fill of laughing at me, I manage to hiss out, "Give… Give me… the oxygen… canister…" After Julian wipes his tears of laughter away, he waves a hand at me casually. "Oh, Bianca's physically weak, so I've given her the oxygen canister. You're a strong one—just hang in there, and it'll pass soon enough." I don't bother wasting my breath arguing with Julian. With trembling hands, I dig out a satellite phone. "Mr. Perez, someone has maliciously switched out my oxygen canister to something else. I'm suffering from a severe case of altitude sickness right now. Please arrange for a rescue team to pick me up as soon as possible."
Desperate for an Heir? I Won with the Birth System
The Sandlers have had single heirs in all nine generations of their family. Unfortunately for them, the latest heir, Maverick Sandler, is an extremely religious man who's not interested in women at all. In order to continue their bloodline, Alec Sandler, the patriarch of the family, announces a reward worth hundreds of billions of dollars. Whoever manages to get pregnant with the next Sandler heir will be given the Sandlers' entire business empire. Countless socialites flock to Maverick instantly, only for the cold-faced heir to throw them out of his meditation room with just an order. Meanwhile, I'm a patient who's been diagnosed with a terminal illness. Somehow, I manage to get bound to the Conception System. System: "Maya Jemison, you must win over Maverick Sandler's heart! If you can give birth to one heir, your lifespan will be extended by ten years! If you give birth to two children, you'll have eternal life! If you ever give birth to three children, you'll ascend right away!" As I gaze at Maverick, whose resolve to stay devoted to his religion knows no bounds, I can only grit my teeth in determination. After that, I use the remainder of my lifespan to trade for Velvet Allure, a Succubus Charm, as well as a Perfect Strike Card. Even though I'm still an inexperienced virgin, I can only force myself on Maverick in order to survive. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Sandler. It's said that saving a life is a virtue. Saints are supposed to save the masses. I'm part of the masses, you see, so please save my life!" That night, chaos breaks out in the chapel.
Keep the Baby, Leave the Man
When Andrew Bergman's 99th mistress seeks me out, I'm in the middle of a manicure session. She tosses me an ultrasound report. "You must be Andrew's wife, right? I'm pregnant with his baby, so you'd better divorce him soon." I merely shoot her a glance before pulling out a stack of evidence recording her feats of sleeping around with other men and throwing them in her face. The woman's attitude went through a 180-degree change. She ripped up the report instantly. "I'll cut off all ties with Andrew right away!" I admire my freshly done nails, which are painted sanguine red—just like blood. I did spend eight hours on them, after all. One minute later, I tell the nail tech, "You can get rid of them now." After all, I have a "ferocious battle" in bed tonight. It'll be difficult for me to put my skills to good use if I still have my fake nails on. Ever since I got married to Andrew, I've been either dealing with his mistresses or on my way to dealing with them. I've long since become the biggest laughingstock in the upper crust. Whenever the other socialites see me, they tend to make fun of me by asking me for tips and tricks to discover if their spouses have cheated on them. Honestly speaking, I don't care about Andrew's flings with other women. What I care about is the fact that those women will fight with me for his wealth. Besides, whenever I discover a new mistress, Andrew agrees to fulfill one wish for me unconditionally. This time, I wish to have a child with him.
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