bc

To Murder your Love

book_age16+
154
FOLLOW
1K
READ
reincarnation/transmigration
second chance
badboy
drama
twisted
bxg
bold
brilliant
bully
rebirth/reborn
like
intro-logo
Blurb

Yuda has been murdered in his tragic voyage of love. Someone of the past has killed him by the cold steel of a pistol. However, an unknown deity has brought him back with one mission to accomplish: to return for finding the murderer and marrying the culprit of his death.

How could he even do such demanding quest without a bravado of a bad guy? In order to do that, the man has to learn from scratch. Yuda twisted the line of his mistakes for building himself to be the man that every woman loves. From a muscular fist to risk-investing portfolio, he planned on doing everything since his own birth for the sole task on being a billionaire in such a young age.

but his own death still haunts Yuda wherever he goes.

chap-preview
Free preview
To life, Rewind
Ugh.... Last time my memories told me, it always been about the moment of those guns pointing at my chest back and forth. When I have lots of rashes on both of my legs, I know that I had returned to the past of my old days. Is this what religions had given me before? For me to come back as a child and revisit my mistakes and learn from it? Today, based on what I have in mind, I need to go to school by six. Mom’s in the kitchen, cooking meals for me and packing some for lunch. She always wake up by half to five, preparing on the usual needs for her two sons afterwards. Meanwhile, I do remembered of when, at times, I have to be the one to knock the door for her to be alerted that she had overslept. Luckily, today is not one of those bad circumstances. In fact, as I had tons of earthquakes on my toes, she does the job for me otherwise. Yes, totally awkward for a nine year old kid to have a soul of an old man. I have tested on the water down there, but no wood in the morning for the breakfast. As my mind stays to the sexually active man state, yet I could not sense a damn thing on the bottom, I have rewinding myself to the innocent spirit of a nerd. “Yuda, wrap those to your bag! Don’t forget to put the spoon inside!” She yells to me from the living room. Those seemingly-exhausted rusty bike of my past has shouted its petty noise as my mom flicks it on. (Vroom!! Vroom-vroom!) “Alrig-Okay, mom!” I have to make a move as an innocent boy, and I’m nearly failed in the first attempt. Although I had a brain of a grown-up male, It is vague sensation for my head to be so wise and acted as if I haven’t know of a thing. “Cling it to your back, honey. Y’know the drill?” She muttered her command as I fitted the “safety belt” of three-peoples ride. It is my beloved mother’s sarong, the knitted fabric with square motifs in every inch of its surface. My mom arranged it to encircle me and my brother’s waist for a sense of security. And yes, the three of us riding the bike in a single trip to my school. As she was coping to stay conscious by the freezing wind that blows her mind, She recognized my absent look upon her face,”What is it, honey? Something wrong on my nose?” This is so nostalgic for my past-life, I shed tears a bit when I see her up-close. Her fair looks of a young mother made me astonished. Her hair is still as black as the cloudy night, alongside her hug-able proportion that embraces me around if I felt an intense need of emotional lift-up. Her slightly-squinted eyes got teary, definitely resulted from the dozing-up condition of an early dawn, but those iconic smiles of her would bring me back to brightness of life in an instant. Yup, precisely different than her late figure in front of me upon the deathbed. “Aye-aye- definitely, mom!” Oops, I doubt mom would catch that- “Oh, your dad told you those hard to speak stories, huh? New words to you!” Ah, those legends. My dad keep me intact with lots of folklore as I wanted to sleep with small token of entertainment from his homeland. From the long-haired lady that got enveloped and shifted into a stone in the wake of her last breath to the over-powered man that created a huge active volcano by the mystical energy from his well-kicked rowboat, I have been divulged into many of those well-fabricated tales by the time I had to go to slumber. I love it so much, of course, because the time I got afterwards are cold shoulders from my dad as I grow older. These early days are truly majestic to my bone, one that shaped my entire life and future in adulthood, yet become the huntsman for my teenage world in the future. Not a single clue of my reason to return, perhaps? Any help here? --- (Rumble-Rumble) My first day of school and I clearly late for the morning session of my class. The road unexpectedly in havoc and ruining the perfect plan of my first time being a student. I have to run and catch my nose that runs away in panic several times in succession, bringing back my gasp as it obeys the rule of my need to breathe. This body is not really molded to sprint, but still decent to spring up in numerous occasions. In my fluke, I could re-assemble the jigsaw of my kick-starters really well. This is actually meant to happen, and I can’t change it in whatsoever form even though I knew very much of any way to alternate the event. After all, I’m a big man in a tiny cocoon, so my mom would ignore my thoughts right away no matter how much effort I yield into. (Knock-knock) “Come in!” Mrs. Angel, the very first real teacher of my school life. She is half the size of my mom’s height, has her black-ish hair cut neatly short. Her waist tunes the proportion of the entire stock, yet she is not counted on the group of rounded up club. To say the least, she is nearly a midget for the adult me, but a perfect fit to the kid like myself at the time. To clear things up from my mind: she is quite mild for a kid, but one bully-able teacher to knock into as a youngster instead. Her memorable traits is not within, but could be seen as bright as day on the very figure of hers. Those cheeky mole on her nose is desperately screaming upon many students with whom she appeased for the run as a teacher. It talks by itself, speaking on how cruel it is to be left alone on top of her nearly circular surface of her nose. However, the color of her voice is soothing, so I never object anything across her and listening to her demand anyway.  “Yuda Sulistyo, am I correct? Please have a seat, son. You must be tired- ah, there. You can put your bag beside Nia, by the empty ones on her left.” Mrs. Angel pointed at the empty chair on the back side of the class. Contrarywise, as I have nearly every basic knowledge in mind besides those not-so-important information of my life, those seat is a suitable domain for an old-timer’s soul to rest. “.....” Uh, I do want to answer, but it is indeed too clever for a kid and would raise a question to an innocent fellow like her. I have to stay cool for the act. (Krieek!) My supposed chair for the entire life of being a first-grader, as I could estimate, could bring myself to infection if I’m not aware much on the severely-hammered nails down within. Those rusty, yet pointy metal edge of the nail is a total danger for the past-and-pure me, but not really worth a shot of attention to my future self. “......” Her kiddies-type perfume is stronger when I got closer to her seat. Her name is Nia Cassandra, a daughter of a diplomat and a well-nurtured ones in essence. She is, from what I had in the stash of my brain, one quiet girl in my elementary school days. In the future, at least on my own if the parallel universe concept is true, She becomes a financial planner and an overseas graduate from Munich. She is my first love, but the most awkward one of my past, too. I’m usually not willing to return to her story, but nothing feels the same without your bad blood in the previous life, is it? My lovely teacher and a shy-cat in disguise, Mrs. Angel, appears ready to blurt our very first task. No chatter from us all, perhaps, that make her a wee bit concerned to our social skills,“Alright, kids. For our first day of the class, I want all of you to tell about yourself for your friends to know you. Don’t worry, I’m here to help.” Mrs. Angel clapped both of her hands as she orders us around. Time to show off, I guess. “Let’s start from A- Amanda, come forward, please!” A slender-sized figure coming from the left corner of our class. Amanda Suyono, if I’m not mistaken. One future model of our class, indeed, and a natural talent at that. Her walk definitely shows how versed she is in commandeering her own manners. Those pale skin of hers proven so much of flair, glowing up the imaginary red carpet underneath as she waltz down the floor. As the first in line, no sign of nervousness from her vibe. Even Mrs. Angel got impressed by her vigor,”Okay, Amanda. Please tell us your full name, how we call you, and your hobbies.” She stood in front of many eyes that piercing from many direction. No matter how elegant she was back then, this is the ultimate revelation on her destined future. “Hello. My name is Amanda Suyono. You can call me Amanda, or “manda” is okay. My hobbies is watching tv and playing with my dolls.” Yet again, no sight of frighten appears from her looks. Oh, such a perfection, that smile. I wonder what of her mother to bring her into fame later on. (Clap-clap-clap!!) “Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Angel, as she solemnly captivated by Amanda’s performance, continue to clap in admiration of her style in dealing with the small play. She even forget to open the next. “Now for the boys!” She speak loudly to increase the intensity of the show,”I’ll move along to the back-Yuda Sulistyo!” Damn it. She is too petty for a bully-able teacher. I hope my.... Yup, marks of sweat has drenched my underwear already. (Tap-Tap) “Good morning, kid- Ahem, Hello there- Hello! My name is Yuda Sulistyo, but you can call me Yuda. My hobbies is playing football.” Ouch, the trouble of being a pure kid has startled my anxiety. Those pesky wetness down my armpits has mocked me by knocking on the door of pristine-white fabric of my uniform.  Please, my silly and fully-developed brain, be dumb for a second, will ya? “Splendid! That’s great, Yuda!” Mrs. Angel does that phrase again. I do sense her worry a little, but nothing has really emerged from her ever since other than the fake smile of an elementary school teacher to encourage the kids on being brave. --- My first establishment has finished successfully. It is not that easy, though, since I have to refrain on doing the usual me of an adult. I have to halt my progression throughout the line of my introduction, to be the cheerful kid and kicking those balls like everyone else. And I found nothing of the sort to fulfill the questionable doubt on the reason of my second life. Before I got to sleep, earlier than the night-owl of the adult me at nine, my mother hugs me tight ahead of my bedroom. She loves me as every day in her journey of humanity, and her sincere cuddling has never ceased out from my mind,“Don’t forget to pray, honey!” She says, beaming to the small me that knowing of her divine grace. “Yes, mom!” --- “Yuda Sulistyo, have you find the truth?” A gentle tone of voice has appeared out of nowhere as I play card games in loneliness. This phenomenon clearly diffuse the fact that I’m dreaming, and it is not as fun as I thought. Creepy, even, since I am just sitting by myself on the bed. My little brother is in need to piss and leaving me be, holding breath on whatever monster was hiding under the bed. “You are clueless on myself, am I right? No need to be. In this second life I have given you, one task is yet to accomplish. Find the woman that murdered you and avoid her grip on your neck, Change your future and spread the word of your success to anybody in your path.” (Poof) “Huaaa!!” I screamed as the jolt of electricity burns my heart. My brother slightly opened his eyes to see what’s going on, but then pay no attention to it and return to his peaceful sleep not so long after. As for me, without further ado, I’m leaking myself by the horrendous sensation of my own fantasy. It is indeed a disgrace for a grown-up man as I am, and I wonder how it feels so real of one mere dream nonetheless. 

editor-pick
Dreame-Editor's pick

bc

The Alpha Assassin

read
41.9K
bc

Billionaire's Wrong Bride

read
934.5K
bc

Vengeance is Mine

read
4.9K
bc

Vielä sydän lyö

read
1K
bc

Katso minuun pienehen

read
1K
bc

Laululintu

read
1K
bc

Käyköön oikeus armosta

read
1K

Scan code to download app

download_iosApp Store
google icon
Google Play
Facebook