Campus Beauty Romane & Geschichten

Becoming a lecturer with promising carreer, and everything seems to be smooth for Sudirman Wira Atmaja or Dirman. But, behind the profession that he holds, there always debt need to be fulfilled. No free lunch that's what they say from the other side of the world. Accepting offer to work for high class shopping center in southern Malang with attempting fee, and holds key to decide campus policies, very nice isn't it? But, there is something Dirman doesn't realize. Something that could drag him down to deepest regret slum.

After the Ritualist declared that Amber would not live past 18, I, a perfectly healthy girl, became the Misfortune Vessel. When Amber broke a leg, my left leg was crippled. When Amber tried to kill herself with shards of glass, the tendons in my hand were severed. I could no longer hold a pen. From childhood to the present, every wound meant for Amber landed on my body. She never stopped testing how far she could go. Skydiving from two miles up. Chasing sharks in deep water. Survival expeditions to the extreme North. Every choice courted death. I cried. I screamed that it hurt. My brothers refused to allow it. "Enough already. It's just a small injury. How could it hurt that much? You're too delicate." "If it hurts, then endure it." So I endured until the day I turned 18. That was when the Shared-Sense System found me. I enabled family sharing, and every single one of them went insane.

My deskmate has been giving me odd looks lately. She's been keeping her distance from me and avoiding me at all costs. It's the same when we go to the cafeteria for lunch or during class. One day, I can't take it anymore. I grab her and ask, "Have I done something to offend you?" She trembles in fear and staggers backward, putting distance between us. Her gaze darts around shiftily. "No, you're not the problem!" Yet after that, she transfers to a different class. I'm confused by this and want to ask her about it, so I head to her new classroom. I stand at the door and watch as she chats leisurely with someone else. Suddenly, she shudders and screams in horror. "This really has nothing to do with you! Please, leave me alone!"

As the college entrance exams approached, I paid the top student in our class to tutor me. But the day she came over, she brought along her childhood sweetheart and insisted that he join our study sessions. I declined her request politely, and she did not press the matter further. The boy left my house in defeat and was struck by a car, suffering injuries so severe that they left him crippled. He could no longer continue his education and was forced to drop out, taking on grueling manual labor to survive. The girl continued tutoring me nonetheless. We both gained admission to the same university, grew close over time, fell in love, got married, and started a family. But on the night of our wedding anniversary, Sharon slipped poison into my soup and watched impassively as I began to convulse and vomit blood, the crimson stain spreading slowly across the floor. "This is what you owe Harry," she said with cold venom. "Taste what it's like to lose all hope." It turned out that she had harbored resentment toward me for all those years. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she first came to my house with her friend.

My girlfriend, Camille Chaney, gets pregnant right before the college entrance exam starts. In my previous life, I gave up on my college entrance exam and married Camille. We had a son together. Life might be nitty-gritty, but it was still rather fulfilling for me. When I was on my deathbed, Camille and her first love, Howard Salter, dropped by to visit me. "Thank you for raising our son for more than 20 years. Now, you may die in peace." Camille pulled the plug on my life support at that moment. She watched as I slowly suffocated to death. When I open my eyes again, I find out that I've returned to the timeframe when the college entrance exam is about to take place. This time, I slam the door shut in Camille's face when I hear her asking me to take responsibility for her pregnancy. "Go find someone else to play house with you. I'm not interested in becoming a father at all."

I suffered from a skin condition. I scratched myself in the library, and millions of netizens spammed my private inbox. Only then did I find out that a girl accused me of harassing her. I took out my diagnostic report to defend my innocence, but the girl cried pitifully. “You really know how to make an excuse for yourself! How could someone innocent like me frame you?” Even my elder brother spoke up for her! “Why would she frame you of all people? Can’t you take a look at yourself?” I could not bear the cyberbullying, and I died from a sudden heart attack the day before the court hearing. My grandfather could not accept my death, and he collapsed into a coma. My parents cut off ties with my brother before they committed suicide at home. Meanwhile, the girl did not just successfully make her way into graduate school, but she also dug open my grave and used my ashes to make fireworks. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day when she had asked me to reserve a seat in the library.

After our SATs, my childhood sweetheart coaxed me into giving him my virginity. In just one night, he went through half a box of protection. I thought it was physical attraction and that he was madly in love with me. Until one day, by accident, I saw the group chat between him and his friends. [Congratulations to my boy for scoring his first win.] [Rue can barely walk. Weren’t you a bit too rough?] [Too rough? She’s tough. She can take it. I’m just getting some practice in, so I’ll know how to treat the school’s prettiest girl right in the future. If I mess her up, I’d actually feel bad.] So all those years of being childhood sweethearts were nothing but a joke. I changed my university application. From that moment on, he went south, and I went north. Our paths never crossed again.

My roommate was Rachel Travis, and something about her behavior always felt… off. On social media, she hit the like button on every single person’s posts, except mine. Whenever she asked for help, I was always there. However, the one time I asked her for a pad, she wrinkled her nose and called it "disgusting". For my birthday, I invited the whole dorm to dinner. When hers rolled around, she invited everyone, except me. Then, I saw my boyfriend, Ryan Cooper, at her birthday party. That’s when I finally snapped and confronted her. She looked at me, wide-eyed, all innocence. "What? Everything’s fine. Why are you acting like this? You’re just too sensitive." Even the other girls in the dorm piled on, saying I was overreacting and telling me I needed therapy. So maybe I was "too sensitive". Fine. Then, I would treat her exactly the way she treated me. Let’s see how she liked it.

My mother despised me because I was the unintended consequence of a one-night stand. She poured all her love and attention into her students, treating them as if they were her own flesh and blood. One day, when her favourite pupil confessed his feelings for me, she flew into a rage. She slapped me hard across the face and called me a whore. Years later, as Alzheimer's clouded her mind, she forgot I even existed, yet still remembered every single one of her precious students. The irony was that not one of them ever came to visit her in the nursing home. They all loathed her just as much as I did.

Camille Crowe is used to being desired, admired, and obeyed. But the one man who should satisfy her leaves her empty, and when his betrayal comes to light, Camille is done pretending. She wants honesty. She wants control. Most of all, she wants to feel something again. Mr. Ashford is not impressed by her beauty, her status, or her confidence. He is cold, dominant, and completely uninterested in pleasing anyone. From the moment they met, he shuts her down…and in doing so, awakens a hunger Camille didn’t know existed. The fact that he refuses to want her makes her want him more. Their attraction is sharp, forbidden, and impossible to ignore. Every encounter is filled with restraint stretched thin, with looks that linger too long and words that cut deeper than touch. Camille tells herself she is in control, but Mr. Ashford has a way of stripping that illusion away without ever laying a hand on her. When circumstances force them into close proximity, desire turns reckless. One moment of weakness becomes a night neither of them can take back. Lines blur. And what should never happen begins to feel inevitable.