After Becoming a Widower, My Alternate Personalities Dragged Me into a Horror Game and Forced a Happy Ending

Pre-release: Get lost! I already said I don't want it!

The Fox Wife: My Wife, please add it to your reading list! The blurb is at the very end~

He woke up in a sanatorium with no memories. The doctor told him his name was Tong Zhi, and that after his husband died, the shock had left him in his current state. When he returned home, traces of the two of them were everywhere, but strangely, there wasn't a single photo of his husband.

Fortunately, his husband had left him a large sum of money.

Rich, beautiful, widowed, and strong. His life was sure to get better.

He put away all of his husband's belongings and focused on living his new life. The day before, he'd arranged to meet someone introduced by a neighborhood committee auntie. But when he opened his eyes the next morning, he was in a horror game.

He's afraid of ghosts! (#`O′) Hey!

Puppet Infant Town: The Puppeteer

On the first night the young wife enters Puppet Infant Town to pray for a child, something touches his ankle.

It's cold and impossibly thin, like an invisible thread gently brushing against him.

Then it touches his waist, the back of his neck, his spine.

The thing has no physical form, yet it's everywhere.

In the air, in the shadows, in the dip beside his bed as he sleeps.

It traces his outline with threads, wrapping its arms around him from behind.

"Poor thing. You're so scared."

A sticky voice creeps into his ear.

When dawn breaks, the young wife discovers his belly has begun to swell

His wish has come true. He's been "sown."

The Immortal Tailor Shop: The Collector

The young madam's full figure is reflected in three mirrors. The plain satin cinches tightly at the waist, like the strip of pale skin once pinched by hemp rope when he wore mourning clothes as a new widow.

"Turn around."

The shopkeeper sits in a high-backed chair with his legs crossed, not looking at him.

Tong Zhi turns as instructed, his slender legs frail and spindly.

When he reaches the third mirror, a pair of velvet-gloved hands measures his waist.

"An inch narrower. They haven't been taking good care of you, have they, Madam?"

There is nothing beneath the velvet gloves, only the sharp outlines of bones.

The hands slide slowly up his waist through the satin, counting each vertebra, then leisurely thread through his hair and yank his head back.

"How many more times do I have to remind you? Take good care of yourself."

Winter Solstice Banquet: The Beast

Snow falls thickly, incense smoke curls through the air.

A sea of people kneel, no one knows if they're praying to the gods or waiting to die.

The village's frail young scholar kneels at the very back.

Everything about him is pale and cold, yet his delicate lips are vivid and inviting.

Nothing like the fangs behind the metal muzzle of the statue, a beast's head on a human body.

After nightfall, the beast kneels reverently before him, rubbing its muzzled snout against him.

So fragrant... So fragrant... My wife is mine... Eat... Eat my wife...

Shadow Patrol: The Judge

A radiation storm sweeps across the wasteland, and the aftereffects of his brain-computer interface flare up.

The abandoned little refugee curls up in a derelict gas station as rainbow-colored static explodes across his vision.

The door is kicked open with brutal force. He can't see a thing.

But he can feel someone standing there, stripping him bare with their gaze.

The man asks, "Human? Android? Or a corporate spy?"

He doesn't answer. The gun pressed against him inches closer, lifting his chin.

Caught off guard, even the glimmer of moisture at the corner of his eye trembles.

The man bends down, sniffing the skin at his neck. "You smell familiar..."

"Big brother..." For the sake of survival, he leans forward. "Is it you?"

Psychological Counseling Room: Zero

A patient with dissociative identity disorder wakes up to find himself strapped to a surgical chair.

Soft leather restraints secure his wrists and ankles. They're not tight, but he can't break free.

He tips up his face and complains to the air, "Mr. System... I'm uncomfortable..."

Then, as he wished, he is laid flat.

The restraints adjust themselves, and some invisible, nonhuman creature lifts his wrists above his head.

"Are you planning to keep deceiving me, just like you deceived them?"

Crimson Wedding: Special Feature

The young widower wears a white wedding suit. Five identically dressed androids stand opposite him.

Each wears the same pure white, featureless mask.

The audience's tips pour in fast: "Take off the masks! Show us the grooms' real faces! Bet on which one will lose control first!"

[Unlock the first round of interaction based on the live tip rankings]

[Task: Remove one groom's mask]

Bosses: Widowed? That's good... Being widowed is great...

What Tong Zhi doesn't know is that all these bosses have split off from his own personalities, and every one of them has come for him.

Content warnings:

1. I like writing my favorite kinks, with lots of personal headcanons and a lethal dose of dark, angsty bottom-focused content.

2. Everyone is sexually inexperienced; around 10 scenarios, with a multi-top love triangle later on.

3. The plot is a small part of the story, with no sweeping worldbuilding. Aside from Tong Zhi, the other players in each scenario don't get much focus.

Written on December 29, 2025

Get Lost! I Already Said I Don't Want It!

Eighteen-year-old Xiao Man is the AI customer service agent for the horror game The Corridor, code number 074.

Its loadable "interaction modules" are all too realistic, and he always gets strange customers while answering questions.

Then one day, a cold, malicious hand went too far... He was so frightened that he jerked away and accidentally kicked over the warm milk on the table.

"Waaah..."

Xiao Man finally burst into tears, sobbing so hard he could barely catch his breath. That night, the game backend descended into chaos as NPC-074's intense emotional fluctuations triggered a string of error codes.

His punishment came, and Xiao Man was sent to solitary confinement.

Hugging his knees, his bare toes curled nervously. His voice trembling, he began listing his misdeeds to the unseen creatures: "I-I broke the security system... knocked over the headmaster's potted plant... and-and bit Mr. Flayer's finger..."

His voice grew quieter and quieter. His damp eyelashes drooped. Even though he couldn't understand where he'd gotten the strength or courage to do any of those things, he kept apologizing. "I was wrong... Could you, could you not dock Manman's milk?"

On the other side of the surveillance screens,

several gazes silently focused on the little fellow trembling in the solitary room.

A cold, synthetic electronic voice rang out:

"Has he really awakened, judging by that reaction?"

Another voice followed, hoarse, its amusement and cruelty impossible to hide:

"What's the fun in guessing? Why not... toss him into a scenario and find out?"

After a brief silence, a third voice joined in, much gentler:

"Don't rush. We don't want to scare him too badly."

Note: Everyone who interacts with Xiao Man is a love interest. No one else is involved.

The Fox Wife: My Wife

The illegitimate son from the Tan family's side branch kneels on a cushion before a statue of a fox. Mud and what may be someone else's blood smear his face. Though his pose is devout, his brows are lowered. Anyone kneeling before him would see the little wolf cub hidden beneath, not yet fully grown, dreaming of chewing through everyone's bones.

Tan Que has been reborn.

In his previous life, this very statue had bestowed good fortune upon the Tan family's eldest son. Tan Que had schemed and plotted, yet in the end died without even a whole corpse. When he opened his eyes again, he never expected to get another chance at life...

That year, Tan Que was seventeen.

Incense was lit, and blue smoke rose straight up.

A fleck of scorching incense ash drifted into his open palm.

It worked.

Over the next ten years, Master Tan suffered a stroke, the eldest Tan son went to prison, and the second son died a gruesome death.

Tan Que got what he wanted and rose to power with unstoppable force.

By the time he was twenty-nine, every major power in East City had taken the name "Que."

He thought he had finally paved the way for the rest of his life.

Then one night, someone secretly slipped a letter into his pocket.

A divorce letter., Hu Chan

He scoffed and thought nothing of it, casually fiddling with his lighter until the letter caught fire.

Blue smoke curled upward, leaving ash scattered across the ground. He stepped through it and climbed into his car.

Then trouble broke out at the docks.

A deal was snatched away.

Even several foreign merchants who had always been obedient started giving him the runaround.

He racked his brains, trying to work out what had gone wrong.

Finally, the old family tutor who guarded the Tan ancestral hall came to see him, trembling all the while.

"Third Master, have you... forgotten something?"

Tan Que rubbed the incense-burn scar in his palm and remembered.

He turned around and knelt before the fox statue again.

He knelt there for three days.

Three days later, the blue smoke before the fox statue suddenly stirred, as if something had parted it.

A foot stepped through, its bones slender and prominent, a red cord wrapped around the ankle.

"What is the master of the house doing?"

The master of the house...

The old tutor said that the year he offered incense, he had broken the rules.

A red thread had bound him to the fox, and he had entered into a marriage pact.

It was this marriage that had protected him and brought him success all these years.

Tan Que suppressed the violent temper that had nearly broken loose after three days of kneeling.

He looked up. The man before him wore a moon-white long robe, long out of fashion on the streets. He looked like a bodhisattva who had descended from an altar after years of worship, still carrying the bitter, austere scent of incense.

Tan Que stared at the fluffy white trim around his collar and spoke one word at a time.

"I've come to apologize to my wife."

He asked in return, "What could the master of the house possibly have done wrong?"

Tan Que moved closer, shuffling forward on his knees by half a step, his chin barely brushing the hand hanging at the man's side.

He lowered himself, obediently pressing against the belly hidden beneath the long robe.

"A wrong is a wrong. My wife may punish me as he sees fit."

A guide to teasing a fox (purely kink-fueled):

1. The story has a male top. Tan Que is the top! Tan Que is the top!

2. Both are sexually inexperienced. In his previous life, the fox and the eldest Tan son had no intimate relationship whatsoever.

3. Tan Que puts profit first, knows when to bend, and will use anything at hand to pave his way. The fox seems gentle, but is actually a conservative traditionalist who will firmly punish Third Master Tan for failing to uphold his duties as a husband.

5. There will be pregnancy and childbirth later on. This is not a dual pregnancy story.

Theme: Learn to grow through hardship and become stronger along the way.