My Husband Killed Me Ninety-Nine Times

Declan Martin, to save his terminally ill darling, made a deal with a mysterious system. The terms of the deal were brutal: he had to kill me, Nina Thorne, ninety-nine times, by various means, so his beloved could extend her life.

The first time, it was in our marital home. He strangled me with his own hands.

The twelfth time, we were hiking, and he deliberately orchestrated an accident, pushing me off a mountain. I fell to my death.

He hired people to abduct me, then burned me alive. That was the thirty-sixth time.

And the ninety-ninth time, I chose to end my own life. This time, I never woke up again.

His darling finally recovered, but he didn't go to see her. He knelt beside my cold corpse like a madman, hoarsely begging me to come back.

I really wanted to ask him, isn't your beloved perfectly fine now? Why are you unhappy instead?

Declan Martin ninety-eighth kill was to slit my wrists and then hold me down in a bathtub, drowning me alive.

When I woke up this time, my face was blank. I gripped the edge of the tub, slowly pulling myself to my feet. Blood still swirled down the drain in the mirror. My skin was terrifyingly pale, only my eyes still holding a flicker of life.

Declan had said the system indicated Claras heart needed a strong surge of life force. So, as he held the razor blade to my veins, his expression was devoid of emotion, intent only on quickly dispatching me, this nuisance. His gaze didn't even linger on my face.

I pulled the bathtub plug and watched the blood drain away. Then I picked up the showerhead, rinsing my body, as if cleaning a crime scene I wasn't involved in. My life was merely a line item on Claras life-extension ledger, to be crossed out and rewritten at any time, until the damned ninety-nine deaths were complete.

The system was as thoughtful as ever; upon rebirth, my wrist bore no trace of the wound. But the memories of my deaths became increasingly vivid in my mind.

I walked out of the bathroom, put on clean clothes. Outside, dawn was breaking. A new day had begun, and so had my death countdown. The ninety-ninth time, what method would it be? A car crash? A fall from a building? Or something more novel? I was a little curious, a little numb. After all, repeating something ninety-eight times, no matter how painful, became a habit.

My phone vibrated on the bedside table. It was a message from Declan.

[Clara wants to go for a walk today. Get ready to accompany her to West Ridge Park.]

His tone was like instructing a servant. When my sacrifice wasn't needed, he didn't treat me like a wife either.

I replied with a single word: [Okay.]

Then I tossed the phone back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. My heart was riddled with a dense ache. I suddenly yearned to know, when the ninety-ninth time arrived, would I truly be free?

Three years ago, Clara had a car accident. When I rushed to the hospital, Declan was kneeling outside the operating room. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was grabbing the doctor's white coat, roaring, "Save her! Whatever the cost, save her!" The doctor merely shook his head helplessly. Declan's back slumped, and he crumpled into a defeated heap.

Only then did I realize that he valued his beloved more than me, more even than his own life. But before I could even leave, a cold, mechanical voice simultaneously sounded in both our minds.

[Detecting strong life prayer.]

[Life Transaction System activated.]

[Contract target: Clara Thorne.]

[Contract condition: In exchange for the designated subject Nina Thorne's ninety-nine deaths, the life signs of Clara Thorne will be restored and maintained.]

I was utterly stunned. What system? What transaction?

Declan abruptly looked up, as if clutching a final lifeline. He confirmed almost impatiently, "You mean, as long as Nina dies ninety-nine times, Clara can live?" The system responded coldly: [Yes.]

"I agree!"

He roared the words, without a hint of hesitation, not even glancing at me, as if afraid the system would back out a second later. In that moment, colder than the operating room lights, was my heart. I didnt even have time to protest before the system's voice sounded again: [Contract generated. Phase one: Restore Clara Thornes critical life signs. Requires Nina Thorne's first life sacrifice.]

[Execution method: Suffocation.]

[Executor: Declan Martin.]

I was frozen, backing away involuntarily. "Declan, listen to me, the system is nonsense, don't believe its lies, don't..." But Declan was beyond my pleas. His eyes were bloodshot, stained with an almost insane stubbornness.

"Nina"

He walked towards me step by step, cornering me against the wall. "I'm sorry." He reached out and choked me.

Suffocation instantly overwhelmed me. I struggled desperately, looking at his face so close to mine. Tears streamed from his eyes, and he choked out, "I can't lose Clara I truly can't"

My mouth was open, but no sound came out. My vision began to blur, and the air was sucked from my lungs. I stared fixedly at him. I wanted to ask, why me?

Declan seemed to understand my gaze; he avoided my eyes. "The system chose you. This is your fate." He didn't dare look into my eyes, only increasing the force of his hands. That was my first death, accompanied by his tears and that fleeting 'I'm sorry.'

When I woke up, I found myself in my bed at home. Declan was sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing at me gently, as if the person who had strangled me last night was just a hallucination. At the time, I still harbored a foolish hope, believing it was just a nightmare.

Until a few days later, news came that Clara was out of danger. And the system's voice sounded again, reminding Declan that Clara's body still needed subsequent life force maintenance, requiring a second sacrifice.

This time, it was in our basement. He tied me to a chair and turned on the gas valve. His hands still trembled slightly, but his gaze was already much calmer.

And later.

The third time, he drove me to the beach, then crashed me into the sea.

The fourth time, he poisoned my dinner.

The fifth time, he pushed me from the top floor of the company, making it look like a suicide.

The twentieth time

The fiftieth time

His actions became more practiced, his eyes growing colder. From an initial apology, to later silence, and now to outright impatience. Each sacrifice's reason was connected to Clara's condition.

"Clara's heart is rejecting, needs life force to suppress it."

"Clara has a lung infection, needs life force to purify it."

"Clara needs stronger life force to fully stabilize"

And I was the sacrifice providing that life force.

Ninety-nine times, like a curse, etched into my soul. I couldn't break free, couldn't escape. I could only hope to quickly complete these ninety-nine tasks, and finally be free

On the tenth day after the ninety-eighth death, according to the usual pattern, Claras body was due for another small setback. Declan should also have received the system's mission notification. The ninety-ninth time was almost upon me.

I even started preparing in advance. I checked the gas pipes in the basement to ensure they were clear, loosened the screws on the balcony railing, and sharpened a dagger. This was so that if he found it inconvenient to act, I wouldnt have to struggle fiercely and suffer more before I died.

After doing all this, I looked at the withered flowers on the balcony, and for some reason, tears blurred my eyes. This was once the garden he and I had built together. But now it was somber and lifeless. I simply pulled out all the roses by their roots, threw them all away, along with all my personal belongings, discarding everything. Anyway, there was only one more time, and I would be free. Better to leave cleanly, without a trace.

He returned, smelling of alcohol. Seeing the unusually empty and neat house, he was momentarily taken aback. "That dress... I remember you were as happy as a child when you received that gift."

I gazed at the brief moment of tenderness in his eyes, feeling a strange sense of unreality. The light blue dress I was wearing was indeed the first gift he had given me. Back then, he wasn't yet the monster who would cruelly murder me for his beloved.

"Really? I don't remember."

"Nina, are you still sulking?"

"Can't you be a little more sensible? Clara only gets one life, and you've died ninety-eight times and you're fine, aren't you? One more time won't matter."

"Just one more time. Once Clara fully recovers, I'll compensate you properly. Then, whatever you want to do, I'll be there with you."

Ha, how ridiculous.

"Declan Martin, how can you kill someone ninety-eight times and still remain so unfazed, without a flicker of guilt?" I calmly threw the ring he gave me when we got married out the window.

Watching the sparkling diamond disappear from sight, Declan suddenly felt a strange unease. Ninety-eight times, and Nina had never thrown away their wedding ring, but today she was so uncharacteristically defiant. He suddenly felt an emptiness in his heart, as if something important was being stripped from his life. He didn't seem as decisive as he had been in the previous ninety-eight times he killed me.

"Nina, maybe there's another way to save Clara..."

"It's already the last time. You're saying this now? It's too late." My unusual calmness unsettled him. He suddenly took a step forward, grabbing my wrist, staring intently into my eyes.

"The last time. Do it."

He didn't make a move, just impatiently tore off his tie and threw it on the floor. His grip on my hand was painfully tight. "Are you really so willing to die?" His voice held a hidden mix of reluctance and frenzy.

I suddenly laughed. What was he so reluctant about? Three years ago, the first time he choked me, I begged, I questioned. I asked him why me, what our relationship meant, pleaded with him to let me go. But his eyes only saw Clara. Later, I tried to escape, to get away from them, away from this damned system! Yet no matter where I fled, even overseas, Declan would find me, bringing me back to this cage-like home. He wouldn't allow me to leave without his permission, as I was tied to Clara's health and the Martin family's decade of kindness to me. So I compromised.

At first, I still held onto hope, even if it wasn't love, even if it was for that tiny bit of childhood sweetheart affection, hoping he might show me some pity. But now, with over ninety deaths accumulated, those questions, tears, and affection had long since vanished.

Seeing Nina in such a stubborn, broken state, Declans heart suddenly felt like it was crushed by a massive stone, muffled, unable to breathe. Just as he was about to say something more, the door suddenly opened.

It was Clara. She wore a pristine white dress, her face flushed with health, looking perfectly recovered. Seeing the argument between Declan and me, she walked over in her high heels, gently removing Declan's hand from my wrist, and softly whined, "Declan, don't be so rough. Girls need to be cherished."

Then, with a radiant smile, she looked at me: "Nina, please don't be angry with Declan, don't blame him. Blame me instead."

"It's all because of my poor health that Declan showed me more care. But don't worry, he and I are just old school friends. I would never disrupt your relationship."

"And thank you for always taking care of Declan. He always tells me how wonderful you are. You two must stay strong together."

Seeing the irrepressible triumph in her eyes, I only felt cynical. Her words on my phone, "the unloved one is the home-wrecker," were still fresh in my memory. What was she trying to act out for me? Declan, however, was blind. With his darling by his side, his gaze instantly softened. He gently brushed a stray strand of hair from Claras forehead, his tone a tenderness I had never heard: "Silly girl, why aren't you resting at the sanatorium? What are you doing coming to find me in this cold wind?"

Clara clutched her chest, her voice faint: "Declan, I I feel a little tight in my chest. I couldn't bear it anymore, so I asked the driver to bring me to you."

"I I was just afraid I wouldn't see you one last time."

This act, performed ninety-nine times, still didnt tire Declan. But I was already scarred and exhausted, and I refused to play along any longer. I picked up the dagger I had prepared, placed it against my neck closest to the carotid artery, and gave him one last look.

"Declan Martin, from this moment on, we are even."

Under Declan's horrified gaze, I plunged the blade. The instant the knife sliced through my skin, blood spurted. Declan immediately flung Clara aside, rushing towards me, utterly desperate. I even saw a flicker of panic in his eyes.

"No!"

The system's mechanical voice sounded again:

[Contract complete.]

[Target Clara Thorne's life signs permanently stabilized.]

Declan, congratulations. Your Clara is finally fully recovered. And I, at last, am free.