2355 Book(s) Related to my special squishy someone

In my past life, I personally dug up two alien meteorites, handing the blue one that granted "Frost Mastery" to my childhood friend, Mike. He repaid me by sealing me inside an ice wall, cursing me to "die like a piece of trash" in the minus 70-degree blizzard.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the initial blast site.
This time, I didn't even spare him a glance; I stuffed both meteorites into my pocket.
I transformed a missile silo into a doomsday bunker, brought my parents inside, and stockpiled ten years' worth of supplies.
When Mike arrived with a gang of thugs to smash my door down, I stood in the warm command center, watching half his face rot with frostbite on the monitor.
I didn't open the door.
This time, I am sending back the despair of my past life tenfold.

In my last life, a friend I’d trusted for ten years drove a knife into my heart over a single biscuit. When I opened my eyes again, we had both been reborn—right before the extreme freeze arrived.

He was convinced the apocalypse had come. He borrowed from loan sharks, rented a massive warehouse to hoard supplies, and even crowned himself king during the icebound period, killing without mercy.

But he didn’t know the truth:

This disaster would end completely after only thirty days.

While he taunted me like a madman, I didn’t expose him. I calmly requested thirty days of paid leave from my company.

This time, I’ll sit in a warm, climate-controlled room and watch—when the state machine restarts on day thirty—how he drops to his knees and sobs in despair.

After I retired, I was willing to do the dirtiest work at a small auto repair shop—just to give my sick daughter an ordinary childhood.
I endured my mother’s insults, my eldest brother’s wage cuts, my younger brother’s extortion.
But they actually joined forces to steal my daughter’s life-saving money for gambling, then sold me into an illegal mine to pay off their debts.
When the iron chain locked around my wrist, when my daughter cried in despair, the killing intent that had slept in my blood for three years finally woke up completely.
They had no idea I was once the iron-blooded God of War—commander of a million troops, the name that made enemy nations tremble.

"Family is the most important thing, Eron."
I'm sick of hearing that phrase every day without qualm.
They seek to include me in the standard picture where the only thing that matters is the happiness of others; the happiness of those around you. It is typical to think that you should care about those who, according to the rules of modern society, love you the most. But does owning the same blood connection make the affective connection between people? I want to know if I am the only one who is wrong.
I don't feel that warmth in my chest that I'm supposed to feel.
Do you have something you want to do?
I look at the crumpled papers balled up in the corner of the room, next to my piano. I bite down hard on my lower lip, not caring about the fact that it's parched from the summer and might crack.
Is it really there?
I won't lie; I miss it. The reason my piano is taking dust twenty-four hours a day since one hundred and eighty-two sunsets ago is ever present in my soul. That memory clings to my memory with no intention of letting go and setting it free. The only thing that persists is this emptiness that causes my discomfort.

Dasy is a shooting Star who decides to reincarnate in earth, so She can find the love of her life, Patrick, who is also a shooting star and have been in love with Dasy since eternity. They both will fin each other the true love they have been dreaming among their reincarnations. But there is a little secret between them, everytime Patrick touch Dasy they shine and everything shakes as a strong equark around them. They must to keep their secret on safe, that they actually are shooting stars living as humans being otherwise they could finish being apart forever, because their love is too strong but as deep as dangerous.