Cherreads

Song of My Heart

H_Ismu_S
There once lived a boy named Hideki Hoshino, born with a voice that shimmered like sunlight on still water. From the moment he could speak, he sang. Not for applause. Not for fame. But because his soul had stories too heavy for silence. His lullabies were whispers to his mother's fading warmth. His first ballads echoed the loneliness of a child misunderstood. As he grew, his music matured. Heartbreaks became harmonies. Loss turned into lyrics. Every song was a chapter, each note a memory carved into melody. He had no diary-only chords. No confession-only refrains. And one day, when he stood alone on a quiet stage before the world, he closed his eyes... and sang. He didn't need to explain. Because the audience felt it. His voice trembled with all the battles he'd survived-every betrayal, every night he cried into his piano, every time he smiled to hide the ache. And as the final note soared into the silence, the world stood still. Not because he was perfect... ...but because he was honest. That night, the world didn't just hear him. It understood him. And from that day forward, the name Hideki Hoshino wasn't just known as a musical genius- He was the boy who sang his soul... and made the world remember their own.
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The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

Isabella was supposed to be sipping champagne at a luxury spa, not waking up in the middle of a forest. Worse, a SYSTEM had attached itself to her like some clingy ex, spouting nonsense about survival, quests, and—oh, hell no—manual labor. "System, I was NOT built for the wilderness! My ideal ‘roughing it’ experience involves a five-star hotel with bad WiFi!" Now, instead of lounging in silk robes, she’s being ordered to farm? To hunt? "A farming quest? You want me—a city girl—to grow food? System, I once killed a cactus by overwatering it. This is NOT my calling!" And don’t even get her started on the hygiene situation. "You want me to bathe in a cold river? Darling, I require warm water, scented oils, and an ambience! What do I look like—some barbarian?!" Unfortunately, the locals—big, muscular beastmen—don’t seem to understand the concept of self-care. The women? Neglecting their skin like it’s a crime to be radiant. The men? Walking hygiene disasters. "Ladies, if your man can smell you before he sees you, we have a problem." "You see this? This is lotion. It exists so you don’t look like a dried-up leaf. Use it." "A beard should be majestic, not tragic. Let me fix it." And the beastmen? They don’t just stare at her like she’s an oddity. No, they hover. They smirk. They lean in too close, fangs flashing with amusement. "Why do you keep looking at me like that?" she huffed, crossing her arms. The panther grinned, his tail flicking. "Because you’re fascinating when you’re annoyed." No, absolutely not. She was not here for this nonsense. "If you have time to stare, you have time to moisturize." She didn’t ask to be here. She didn’t ask to be their savior. But if she has to suffer through this world, she’s making everyone around her suffer less—through skincare, style, and some serious attitude. "If I hear one more ‘We don’t season our food here,’ I’m launching a war." "If you have time to gossip, you have time to do squats." "You want to impress a woman? Start with not smelling like the battlefield." Survival isn’t just about fighting monsters; it’s about looking good while doing it. So what if the System keeps throwing impossible quests her way? "What do you mean ‘you can’t skip quests’?! Since when?! Where is the skip button?! I demand a skip button!" But somewhere between dodging ridiculous quests and fixing these people’s tragic grooming habits, Isabella found herself in situations. Uncomfortable, heart-racing situations. Like being trapped against a tree by the red python, his red eyes half-lidded as he murmured, "You talk too much, little star. Should I silence you?" Like waking up with the lion lord’s fur-lined cloak draped over her shoulders, his deep voice gruff, "You shiver in your sleep. I’ll fix that." Like the phoenix watching her every move, his burning gaze searing into her skin as he mused, "You cause chaos wherever you go, but I find that I don’t mind." Oh, hell. No. She was not about to fall for four beastmen. She was too pretty for this much stress. "If you insult me again, I’ll make sure your soul needs a beauty upgrade." "I refuse to be disrespected by anyone who dresses like an unwashed tree branch." And yet, when a rival tribe came to challenge her, when danger lurked too close, those same beastmen stood beside her—smirking, taunting, fighting for her. "A beastman growled at me today. I growled back. He ran. I am the alpha now." Isabella isn’t just surviving. She’s thriving. And this world better keep up.
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