My family
Seo Ra-on was nineteen, strikingly handsome in a way that made people look twice—long black hair that brushed his shoulders at the back, shorter and neatly parted at the front, deep brown eyes framed by long lashes, and a tall 6’6 frame with a lean, athletic build. Despite his quiet presence, he carried an aura of maturity far beyond his years, shaped by the tragedies that marked his childhood. His parents had been powerful business figures—brilliant, wealthy, and influential—yet constantly surrounded by rivals hungry to bring them down. Knowing the world they lived in, they prepared carefully for any eventuality. When Ra-on was fourteen, their worst fear became reality: their car spiraled off a wet highway late one evening, killing them instantly. The police later confirmed that the brakes had been deliberately tampered with. Yet despite months of investigation, the case went cold. The culprit was never found. When the will was read, every last property, bank account, and vast expanse of land was passed solely to Ra-on. Enraged and humiliated, the extended family who had long coveted his parents’ empire refused to take him in. Overnight, he became not only an orphan but the target of resentment. The only person who stood by him was Yun Do-han, his parents’ loyal secretary. Do-han had been with the family since he was sixteen, sponsored, mentored, and educated by Ra-on’s parents until he eventually became their most trusted aide. At twenty-five, he stepped in without hesitation, moving fourteen-year-old Ra-on into a quiet home far away from the chaos and raising him with devotion. Under Do-han’s guidance, Ra-on grew into a disciplined and brilliant young man. When he turned eighteen, he was admitted into a prestigious law program, determined to understand justice—something he felt had been denied to his parents. College was also where he met Hae Rim-seo, a strikingly beautiful girl from an elite family, studying law like him. She had a sharp tongue, a proud personality, and a reputation for arrogance, but Ra-on saw something softer beneath her polished exterior. Against everyone’s expectations, the two fell deeply in love. Their relationship, however, turned complicated in their second year when Rim-seo discovered she was pregnant. Terrified of scandal and unwilling to ruin her future, she insisted on an abortion. Ra-on begged her not to. He wanted the child—wanted a family again, even if imperfect. After days of conflict, Rim-seo agreed on three harsh conditions: 1. After giving birth, she would hand the child over entirely to Ra-on. 2. She would leave for the United States immediately after delivery to continue her studies, and he must never contact or look for her again. 3. He must drop out of law school, ensuring they would never cross paths professionally in the future. The conditions were cruel, but Ra-on accepted them without hesitation. He loved her. He loved their unborn child even more. Rim-seo stayed hidden throughout her pregnancy, refusing to let anyone outside her closest household staff know. When the day finally came, she delivered twins—a boy and a girl. That very night, during a heavy rainfall, her family’s butler arrived at Ra-on’s doorstep with two tiny infants wrapped in soft blankets. The next morning, Rim-seo boarded a plane to the U.S. without looking back. Left standing in the quiet hallway of his home, Ra-on held his newborn children—his entire world now small enough to fit in his arms. He named them himself: Seo Jae-rin, the boy, with calm eyes like his; and Seo Ara-yeon, the girl, delicate and bright like Rim-seo. From that night forward, Ra-on’s life changed. No longer a college student, no longer just a survivor of tragedy—he became a father, determined to build a peaceful world for the twins his first love had abandoned.Time: 11:48 PM Weather: Heavy rain, thunder, cold winds Location: Ra-on’s newly rented temporary apartment (before he bought the house)
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The rain hammered against the windows so violently it sounded like fists desperate to be let inside. Seo Ra-on stood in the middle of the dimly lit living room, the warm glow of a single lamp casting long shadows across the floor. He had not slept well in weeks—every night filled with restless pacing, checking his phone, waiting for the message that would change everything.
At exactly 11:48 PM, the doorbell rang.
A sharp, echoing chime that sliced through the storm.
Ra-on froze. His breath caught. His heart slammed once, hard.
Then again.
His legs felt weightless as he moved toward the door.
When he opened it, a wave of freezing rain gusted into the hallway. Standing there, soaking wet from head to toe, was Rim-seo’s family butler—Mr. Han. His usually immaculate silver hair was plastered to his forehead; his gloves dark with rainwater; his eyes heavy with something more than exhaustion.
But Ra-on didn’t see him at first.
He saw what he carried.
Two small bundles—one pink, one blue—wrapped tightly in soft blankets, each shielded under the butler’s coat, kept close to his chest like fragile treasures.
Ra-on’s breath broke. “Are… are they—?”
Mr. Han stepped inside without waiting to be asked, rainwater pooling around his shoes as he gently, almost reverently, lowered the babies into Ra-on’s trembling arms.
The weight was small. Unbelievably small. Yet it felt like the entire world was suddenly placed against his chest.
“They were born at 10:21 PM,” Mr. Han said quietly, voice tight. “A healthy boy and girl… Miss Rim-seo asked that they be delivered to you immediately.”
Ra-on stared down at the infants—two tiny faces peeking out from the blankets, eyes closed, breaths soft and rhythmic. Their cheeks were flushed, their fists curled like little blossoms. One of them—he wasn’t sure which—made a tiny sound, a soft whimper that pierced through the storm outside.
His throat tightened painfully. “I… I don’t know how to hold them,” he whispered, his hands shaking visibly.
“You’re doing fine,” Mr. Han reassured, though his own voice trembled.
Ra-on’s eyes glistened. “She… didn’t even want to see them?”
The butler looked down. For a moment, the only sound was thunder rolling in the distance.
“She held them,” he said finally. “But she didn’t speak. She only repeated her instructions to leave at once.” A pause. “When I left her, she was crying. But she… still boarded the flight. She’s already at the airport.”
Ra-on swallowed hard, his chest aching, a mix of relief, heartbreak, anger, and love twisting inside him like a storm of its own.
The butler cleared his throat. “These are their birth documents, medical papers, and Miss Rim-seo’s final letter.” He extended a waterproof folder.
Ra-on didn’t take it.
He couldn’t let go of the babies.
So the butler placed it carefully on the table.
Thunder cracked again, making the twins flinch. Instinctively, Ra-on cradled them closer, adjusting his arms awkwardly yet protectively. He leaned his cheek against the top of their blankets, as if shielding them from everything outside.
“They’re so small…” he whispered.
Mr. Han nodded, eyes softening. “They’ll grow. With you, they’ll grow well.”
For the first time since his parents died, someone spoke to him with hope instead of pity.
The door rattled as wind slammed against it.
Mr. Han stepped back, preparing to leave. “This is the last thing Miss Rim-seo asked of me. My duty ends here. Please… take care of them.”
Ra-on looked up, eyes dark and determined. “I will. I swear I will. They’ll never be alone. I’ll give them everything.”
The butler bowed deeply—deeper than he had ever bowed to anyone.
A bow of respect.
A bow of apology.
A bow of farewell.
He turned and disappeared back into the storm, the sound of his footsteps swallowed instantly by the rain.
When the door shut, silence returned.
Ra-on stood there in the quiet, holding the twins against his chest. Their warmth seeped through his thin shirt. Their breaths were soft and real.
His first tears fell onto their tiny foreheads.
“Welcome home,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Jae-rin… Ara-yeon… Appa is here.”
A soft, almost airy coo came from the little girl. The boy tightened his small fist around Ra-on’s shirt.
And just like that, in a storm-filled night, Seo Ra-on became a father.
Fumi
works: 6
My Billionaire
Kittisak “Kit” Theerachai (22) Kittisak, or Kit as his followers fondly call him, is the embodiment of soft allure and quiet defiance. At 5'2", he moves with a grace that commands attention — a delicate figure with a walk that drips confidence and subtle arrogance. His fair, almost porcelain-pale skin glows under every light, making him appear ethereal and untouchably beautiful. His long, silky black hair, parted neatly at the center, frames his angelic face and almost brushes his shoulders, while his cute fringe falls perfectly across his forehead. Beneath fluttery lashes are storm-grey eyes that seem to shift between innocence and mischief — eyes that can both seduce and mock. His smooth lips, naturally tinted rose, curve into smirks more than smiles. He’s effortlessly elegant, every move deliberate yet seemingly casual — a true diva in motion. Kit’s slim frame and cinched, seductive waist make him look like he stepped straight out of a fashion editorial. A tiny silver belly ring glints when he lifts his shirt on TikTok, his aesthetic a mix of soft luxury and sensual rebellion. Despite his beauty, he loathes the tiny, cluttered apartment he lives in — a reminder of the poverty he despises. Kit dreams of designer wardrobes, marble floors, champagne breakfasts, and soft beds he didn’t have to work for. He’s materialistic, ambitious, and shameless about it. He doesn’t believe in love; he believes in having. Having more, dressing finer, living louder. With over 100k followers on TikTok, Kit spends his days livestreaming, posing, and trying to compete with influencers who flaunt luxury items he can’t afford. His viewers adore his sass and style, but envy eats at him — he wants to live what he pretends to have. --- Thanakrit “Krit” Wongsuwan (38) Thanakrit Wongsuwan, better known in global business circles as The Silent Wolf, is a billionaire whose name alone stirs boardrooms and headlines. At 6'7", Krit towers over most men — broad-shouldered, carved from muscle, and exuding the kind of power that doesn’t need to be spoken. His black hair, center-parted and slightly tousled, grazes his neck, giving him an almost dangerous charm. A pair of diamond studs glint against his skin, matched by the sleek tattoos running down his arms and back — subtle marks of dominance and rebellion under his tailored suits. Krit’s face is the kind that makes people look twice — handsome to the point of disbelief, ageless, like time itself has chosen to favor him. He’s known for being domineering, obsessive, and ruthlessly possessive. When Krit wants something, he doesn’t ask — he claims. For over a year, Krit had been quietly watching Kit’s livestreams — under an anonymous username. He sent extravagant virtual gifts, always topping donation lists but never revealing who he was. There was something about Kit’s beauty, his vanity, his stubbornness — it thrilled Krit. He wanted him, not as a fling, but as something he could own, protect, and control. --- Their First Encounter Their paths finally crossed at an exclusive Bangkok boutique. Kit had walked in wearing confidence like perfume — trying on designer pieces, twirling before mirrors, taking pictures he’d post later to maintain the illusion of luxury. When a sales attendant sneered and told him to leave if he wasn’t buying, Kit’s façade cracked for the briefest second. Then he walked in — Krit Wongsuwan. The air shifted instantly. The attendant paled as Krit’s dark gaze fell on him. Without a word, Krit instructed the manager to fire the man on the spot. Then he turned to Kit, eyes sharp but unreadable, and said in a deep, composed tone: > “I’ll take everything he touched. Bag them all. And add more — something that suits his beauty better.” It was the first time Kit was truly speechless. When Krit finally met his gaze, there was recognition — the kind that sparks and burns. Later that evening, Krit approached him again, his voice calm but firm, his presence overwhelming. > “Let me take care of you,” he said simply. “No conditions. No love — just what you want. Luxury, comfort, and everything you’ve been denied. All I ask is that you let me.” Kit didn’t hesitate. This was what he’d been dreaming of — a man who could spoil him senseless. He said yes with a playful smirk, not realizing the depth of the storm he’d just stepped into. Because Krit didn’t just want to spoil him. He wanted to own him — completely.
My Perfect Revenge
Alani Rivera-Woods had always been beautiful—painfully beautiful—but the world never knew it. She was a soft blend of her parents: a Black American father with strong, warm features and a Dominican mother whose striking blue eyes were unforgettable. Alani inherited those eyes—bright, sparkling, ocean-blue—but almost no one had seen them properly. She lived most of her life hidden behind thick, outdated glasses. Her long black hair was always tied back or tucked beneath hoodies; her petite 5'2 frame was swallowed by oversized shirts and baggy trousers her father insisted she wear after her mother’s death. He had dressed her that way for years, believing that keeping her covered was protecting her from the world. And after he died—just a month before her final high school semester—Alani simply never changed. Grief made her accept invisibility as a uniform. The only person who ever truly saw her was her best friend, Kiana Matthews. But Alani’s heart had always belonged to someone who never saw her at all: Jaylen Carter. Jaylen was the kind of boy people whispered about long before he entered a room. Tall, dark brown skin with a polished glow, braids falling neatly around his face, a slim waist and sculpted body that turned heads. He had charm, beauty, a rich family… and absolutely no discipline. He drifted through high school dating cheerleaders, skipping classes, bullying people he found weak, getting involved with the wrong groups, hacking, scamming, destroying his family’s reputation with a smile. Alani loved him anyway—quietly, painfully, foolishly. Jaylen’s parents eventually grew sick of his behavior. When he refused to change, they left New York entirely and moved to Los Angeles to expand their business with Jaylen’s father’s younger brother. The uncle was richer, more successful, and divorced, raising a son who was one year older than Jaylen. Jaylen hated that cousin—Deshawn Carter, the golden boy of the entire Carter family. Jaylen’s parents still sent him money, hoping distance might fix him. But it only made him worse. In her last semester of high school, Alani accidentally overheard Jaylen bragging to his four closest friends—Malik Miller, Terrance “Terry” Brooks, Isaiah Coleman, and Ethan Whitlock—about his plan after graduation: He was going to start scamming big, serious money. He wanted financial independence not to build a life, but to silence his parents—to make sure they could never threaten to cut off his funds again. That single overheard conversation changed the course of Alani’s entire future. She had never been interested in computers. She had always dreamed of studying catering and management so she could take over her parents’ American/Spanish restaurant. But love—blind, stubborn love—pushed her into a completely different direction. She made a decision that shocked even her best friend: She enrolled in Computer Science (Security Track) and specialized in everything that would make her invaluable to someone like Jaylen. Cybersecurity. Network security. Ethical hacking. Penetration testing. Security architecture. Digital forensics. And in secret, she enrolled in a three-year advanced online hacking program—one that taught offensive hacking, self-destructive accounts, untraceable routing systems, and high-level stealth techniques. Alani became a genius. Not for herself. Not for her future. For him. She still honored her mother by taking a two-year evening program in catering and management, but her real work—the work she poured her soul into—was the kind she imagined would one day protect Jaylen. Five years passed. At twenty-two, Alani graduated as the best student in her department. But she still dressed in oversized hoodies, thick glasses, and baggy pants, hiding her stunning face and body out of habit. Jaylen was twenty-two as well, now living in a modern three-bedroom apartment with his four friends, paid for through scamming and amateur hacking. Malik, the only one who tried to hack besides Jaylen, was terrible at it; their accounts were constantly traced and destroyed. Alani began hanging around Jaylen again after graduation, still loving him with a loyalty he never earned. Jaylen tolerated her only because he enjoyed having someone to tease when he was bored, someone who looked up at him like he was the sun. He disrespected her openly—arrogant, dismissive, rude—never suspecting that the quiet girl trailing behind him was more talented than his entire group combined. Kiana begged her to stop chasing him. Alani refused to listen. A year passed like this—one year of Alani loving him and Jaylen humiliating her behind closed doors. Then one day, he humiliated her in public. In front of a crowd, he sneered at her oversized outfit, mocked her glasses, called her ugly, said no man wanted her, laughed about her virginity—louder and crueller than ever before. His friends laughed with him. Strangers joined in. Alani froze. And something inside her finally died. She walked away from Jaylen that day—and this time, she did not look back. Jaylen didn’t care at first, but later he discovered the truth: Alani was a cybersecurity specialist. A world-class hacker. Better than him. Better than Malik. Better than all of them. Suddenly, he wanted her back—not for love, but for profit. He pretended to be kinder. He invited her to his apartment. But when Alani arrived, she paused outside the door… and heard everything. Jaylen and his friends were inside laughing about how they planned to manipulate her. How they would use her skills. How they would pin everything on her if the law ever caught up with them. Then Jaylen mentioned that his cousin, Deshawn, was coming to New York to open a company branch. He warned his friends to behave because “that pretty boy is probably sent by my parents to spy on me.” Jaylen ranted about Deshawn’s success—how the twenty-four-year-old was already the vice president of his father’s company, richer, smarter, taller, tattooed, disciplined, respected. The family’s favorite. The future of the Carter name. Hearing her name spoken with contempt beside that kind of jealousy snapped whatever thread was left inside Alani. Her love evaporated instantly—like it had never existed at all. She pulled out her custom hacking device, tapped into one of Jaylen’s accounts, and drained every dollar. Then she sent a single self-destructive message to their computer: “Be grateful I didn’t take your main account.” With the money she stole back from the person who stole her dignity, Alani transformed. No more oversized outfits. No more thick glasses. No more hiding. She bought clothes that fit her beauty—crop tops, short skirts, fitted jeans, baggy streetwear, dresses that hugged her figure, heels, knee-high boots. She wore subtle makeup, replaced her glasses with lenses, styled her long curls, and pierced her belly button. For the first time in her life, she dressed like herself. And she made one final decision—her masterpiece of revenge: She would lead Deshawn Carter on. Not to love him. Not to be with him. But to provoke Jaylen, to make him furious, to make him watch as someone better than him admired the woman he dismissed as worthless. She wanted the cousins to clash, to burn, to break because of her. At the same time, she decided she will created a small online cybersecurity company—anonymous, efficient, and brilliant—where businesses hired her to redesign and upgrade their systems. She will make them unhackable. She will make them scam-proof. Every system she will touch become a fortress. And she ensured that Jaylen and his friends could never hack, scam, or exploit anyone again. With the stable income from major clients, she will reopened her parents’ restaurant, restoring it beautifully and honoring both cultures—American and Dominican. Alani Rivera-Woods, the girl once hidden behind baggy clothes and thick glasses, will become a woman with power, beauty, wealth, and the intelligence to dismantle every person who ever underestimated her. Her revenge was clean. Calculated. Perfect. And it was only the beginning.
Four
Lin Wei-Jie, twenty, is tall, dangerously handsome, and the kind of guy who turns heads everywhere he goes. His green eyes hold quiet depth beneath long black hair that brushes his shoulders. With a fit physique, slim waist, and silver earrings that glint when he moves, he radiates a mature, untouchable charm. Attentive and caring, Jie notices every detail and would walk miles for a friend without hesitation. Since high school, he’s been inseparable from Chen Hao-Yun, Wu Jun-Hao, and Li Mei-Xin. Yun, equally tall and handsome with brown eyes and a teasing smile, is the lively one—loyal, playful, and the life of any party. Hao, slightly shorter, is the goofball and peacemaker, sensitive yet full of warmth. Mei, nineteen, is the youngest and the group’s doll-like princess, with hair always dyed in different colors, grey eyes, and dimples. Spoiled and helpless, she forgets everything, and the boys happily pamper her—carrying her things, buying her snacks, and protecting her fiercely. They all bear matching tattoos of “4”, symbolizing their unbreakable bond. Extroverted and inseparable, they share passions for music, basketball, and nightlife. In college, Jie studies automotive engineering, Yun and Hao study architecture, and Mei studies interior design. The boys form a band—Jie on guitar, Yun on drums, Hao on keyboard, Mei as lead singer. Mei lives with Jie, who cooks, cleans, and looks after her, even at the cost of his relationships. Together, the four are chaos and comfort.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.