Author: Momo Chan

I’m a small-time gaming streamer. I have zero mechanical skill, yet somehow, I’m on a massive winning streak. Even with my mods spamming gifted subs, my channel was pretty dead. That is, until I got matched against a pro player, and my viewer count exploded. But before I could even get excited about the clout, a loud crash came from my living room. Chat started spamming “LUL cat is destroying the house,” but I just picked up my sleeping kitty from my lap, held her up to the cam, and waved her paws. “Nope, Mittens is right here. I live alone.” The chat went dead silent for a solid minute. Then, the messages came flooding in: Who is in the living room? I calmly closed my eyes, did a quick mental reading, and said, “Oh, don’t worry. It’s just a serial killer.” Chat instantly exploded. They asked how I knew. I kept my eyes on the game, farming minions. “I manifested the answer.” Before chat could roast me for capping, the door behind me slowly creaked open. A man stood there, knife in hand, staring at me with dead, cold eyes. Chat screamed at me to run. I shrugged. “It’s fine. Let me win this match first. I’m laning against a pro.” Chat: “???” 1 I’m a variety streamer. Specifically, the kind who sucks at games but somehow never loses. My mechanics are trash—I flash into walls constantly—but I have an edge: I’m psychic. I literally predict when the enemy jungler is ganking, or exactly when they’ll start Baron. So, yeah, I win. I can’t help it. I’m the top prodigy of the mystic arts. I spent my whole youth studying the occult and working in the field. My only dream now is to be a degenerat—I mean, a gamer. Streaming is just a side hustle because my clients threatened to hunt me down if I didn’t give them a way to contact me. I refuse to go back to a 9-to-5 exorcism job. So, I stream. Thanks to my clients whaling on donations, I get on the front page sometimes, but I never really went viral. Until today. I queued up for a ranked match, and suddenly 50,000 people flooded the lobby. I thought my mods bought view-bots again, so I ignored it and locked in my champion. Halfway through the game, I noticed the chat warring. “This is sus. How does she know exactly when to dodge?” “First time? I’ve watched her for six months. She literally never loses.” “Scripting? Or is the enemy team wintrading?” “Are you dumb? Look who she’s playing against. That’s Cloud. You think a World Champion is wintrading for a 20-viewer Andy?” “True… if Cloud wasn’t on the enemy team, I wouldn’t even be here.” I glanced at the chat, did a quick calculation on my fingers, and giggled. “Oh, so that’s Cloud? Nice. Looks like I’m beating a pro today.” Chat immediately turned on me. “She’s hot, but delusional.” “Waste of a pretty face.” “You’re down 2k gold and think you’re gonna win? Stick to Just Chatting.” “Cloud is gonna stomp you. FF at 15.” 2 I ignored the haters and focused on my lane. I already foresaw the outcome. I’m winning this. Who’s gonna call me trash when I solo kill a World Champ? The trolls got bored when I didn’t rage bait, so a lot left. Only the loyal fans and the confused Cloud viewers stayed. Mid-game, someone typed: “It’s super loud on your end. What’s that banging?” “Does she have a dog?” “She has a black cat. Maybe it knocked over a shelf?” “LMAO go check, sounds like your apartment is getting wrecked.” I recalled to base to heal and saw the message. I picked up Mittens, my black cat sleeping on my lap, and held her up like Simba. “Mittens is asleep, guys. And I live alone.” Crash. Bang. The noise from the living room got louder. Like someone ransacking the place. Chat went silent. Then the panic set in. Who is out there? I kept farming. “Oh, that? Don’t worry. It’s just a serial killer.” Chaos. Absolute chaos. Maybe someone in Cloud’s chat mentioned it, because my viewer count doubled instantly. “??? Is this a bit? Lock the door! Call 911!” “She’s joking, right? How would she know it’s a serial killer without looking?” “Not funny. I almost called the cops.” “Is she okay in the head? Pretty privilege really lets you say anything.” “I came for the cat, leaving because of the cringe.” “Focus on the game, streamer. You don’t need to make up stories for clout.” I didn’t look away from the screen. “Huh? I’m not lying. I divined it.” Before chat could flame me again, the door behind me creaked open. In the webcam frame, a gap appeared. Then a face. Then a knife, glinting in the LED strip lights. 3 Chat went nuclear. “WTF” “Is that a paid actor??” “BEHIND YOU! LOOK BEHIND YOU!” “RUN! HE HAS A KNIFE! IT’S REAL!” “Forget the game! Someone doxx her so we can send the cops!” “She’s so calm… it has to be a skit.” “Bro, who skits a home invasion? Real or not, someone call the police!” “Wait, isn’t she in LA? There’s been a slasher news story recently… the guy hasn’t been caught.” “OMG IT’S HIM. I RECOGNIZE THE HOODIE.” “Stop playing! He’s inside!” “I can’t watch this.” I dodged a skill shot, glanced at the second monitor, and said flatly, “Chill. Let me win this. It’s Cloud.” Chat: “???” “Is she insane?! RUN!” “Brain damage confirmed.” “HE’S RAISING THE KNIFE!” “HELP HER!” The cam clearly showed the man creeping up. On screen, Cloud’s character stopped moving. He started typing in All Chat. C9_Cloud: Mid laner, drop your address. I’m calling 911. C9_Cloud: Don’t type it. Just say it. My stream is watching. We got you. 4 The game paused. Even my teammates stopped moving to ask what was happening. I sighed. “Fine. Guess we’re pausing.” I swiveled my chair around to face the man. He realized I was streaming. He saw his own face on my monitor, and the wall of text screaming POLICE. He laughed, a jagged, ugly sound. “Stupid bitch. Living alone with zero awareness. I’ve been in here for thirty minutes.” He gripped the knife tighter, veins popping. “Well, you showed my face. I can’t run now. So I’m gonna peel your skin off while your fans watch.” He looked terrifying. I wasn’t scared. I reached out and turned off the webcam. “Mittens. Sick ’em.” Chat couldn’t hear me anymore. They just saw the screen go black. The text scrolled so fast it was a blur: WHERE DOES SHE LIVE? SAVE HER! The killer looked at the tiny black cat by my feet and sneered. “The cat? Really? Go ahead and scream. I’m gonna leave you in pieces.” “Holy shit, this guy is psycho. I called the cops!” “Guys, Cloud says he lives in the same complex! He’s running down right now!” “Please be okay…” “Cloud better bring a bat or something.”

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I was born with a cursed mouth. The day my mom gave birth to my little brother, four-year-old me spoke the first sentence of my life: “Here comes the debt collector.” My dad heard it. He grabbed a sewing needle and pierced my lip. I bled so much. My Nana held me in her arms, heart broken, screaming at my dad, “She’s just a child! How could you?” I stared unblinkingly at my father and whispered, in a voice only Nana could hear: “He’s going to die.” The next day, my dad’s semi-truck jackknifed on the highway. By the time they found him, he was nothing but a pile of meat paste. 1. After Mom got the insurance payout, she took my baby brother and moved to Chicago, leaving me behind in the boonies with Nana. She said I cursed my father to death. She said I was a jinx, a bad seed. I stared at the baby in her arms and thought: But he’s the debt collector. Why is she blaming me? From that day on, I rarely saw my mother. The folks in our small town didn’t know I could speak. To them, I was just “The Mute.” Adults whispered it; kids shouted it. Some mean little boys would throw mud at me. “No daddy, no mommy, just a stray little mute! Get lost! We don’t play with freaks!” Children’s cruelty is pure and unfiltered. Nana would march to their houses, hands on her hips, and curse their parents out, but it didn’t change much. One day, when Nana came home, I was tending the wood stove. She pulled a first-grade reading book out of her canvas tote. She rubbed my head, her rough hands gentle. “Raven, honey, I helped Mrs. Gable clean her attic, and she gave me this instead of cash. Nana’s gonna teach you to read, okay?” I shook my head. I didn’t want to read. Counting ants was more fun. Nana, usually so gentle, got angry for the first time. Her eyes were sharp. “If you don’t want to learn, you don’t eat dinner. Think about it.” Two hours later, I found Nana and waved my hands frantically. I wanted to learn. Not because I had an epiphany, but because I realized if I didn’t read, Nana really wouldn’t feed me. I was hungry. Nana smiled, her face wrinkling up like a happy apple. She rushed to serve me stew. “I knew my Raven was smart. We start after supper.” From then on, Nana taught me a word a day. If she didn’t know it, she’d ask the neighbors. By the time I was eight, I knew hundreds of words. I communicated with Nana using a whiteboard I cherished like gold. Mom had thrown it out as trash when she moved; Nana had dug it out for me. Nana knew I could speak. She knew I just chose not to. She told everyone, “She’s just saving her words for something important.” 2. On the night of my twelfth birthday, Nana made me a huge bowl of longevity noodles. Two golden fried eggs sat on top, garnished with fresh greens from the garden. It looked perfect. I ate until my mouth was slick with oil, waving at Nana to eat too. She just watched me, smiling. “Eat up, Raven. Nana wants you healthy and to live a hundred years.” “You’re twelve now. What’s my big girl’s birthday wish?” I chewed on the end of my chopstick, thought for a moment, then grabbed my pen. I wrote, stroke by stroke: To be with Nana forever. To have a happy home. Inside, it was warm and loving. Outside, the wind howled, promising a storm. 3. Then came the knock at the door. I slurped a noodle, wondering who it could be. We didn’t have friends. A widow and a mute girl? People avoided us like we carried the plague. I peeked out and saw my mother. She dragged my brother, Caleb, inside and dumped her expensive bag on the heater. My heart leaped. Did Mom remember my birthday? Did she come back to celebrate? She saw me and the bowl of noodles. Her brows knitted together tight. “Today is your birthday?” Caleb tugged her hand. “Mom, I’m hungry. I want fried eggs too.” Mom ignored him. She just stared at me. I nodded, hope rising in my chest. Then, she lunged. Smack. She slapped me so hard I saw stars. “I knew it! I knew you were a curse! Why don’t you just die?” My face swelled instantly. Nana rushed in from the kitchen, saw me holding my face, and shoved Mom away. She hugged me tight. “What is wrong with you?! It’s Raven’s twelfth birthday! If you want to act crazy, get out!” Mom laughed and cried at the same time, collapsing on the floor, pointing a shaking finger at me. “This little bitch jinxed me, Ma!” “I was going to put a down payment on a condo tomorrow. But today? Today Caleb burned down the entire carport at our complex!” “I had to pay $30,000 in damages! Eight years of savings, gone! They kicked us out. We had to run back here overnight.” She looked at me through blurry tears. “What kind of demon are you? You cursed your dad to death, and now you’re destroying me and your brother. Why won’t you just die? Please, just die!” I was stunned by her screaming. Tears pooled in my eyes. I didn’t understand. Caleb set the fire. Why was it my fault? Nana pushed me gently. “Raven, take your brother to the back room to sleep. I need to talk to your mother.” I nodded and reached for Caleb’s hand. “Don’t touch my son, you mute freak!” Mom screamed. If anyone else had said that, Nana would have fought them. But this was her daughter. I lay in bed, tears soaking the pillow, unable to sleep. Late that night, Nana lay down beside me and pulled me into her arms. “Don’t blame your mom, Raven. She’s had a hard life.” The next day, I brushed my teeth and went to school as if nothing happened. I treated my mother like air. She hadn’t cared for me in years, only to come back and call me a freak? Fine. I only needed Nana. That woman wasn’t fit to be a mother. 4. Mom spent the next few days transferring Caleb to the village school and showing him off to relatives. Eight-year-old Caleb was a spoiled brat. He thought he was better than everyone because he came from the city. He sat under the big oak tree, showing off a toy. “My mom got this train from overseas. It’s expensive.” He pressed a button, and the train went Choo Choo and ran along the ground. Billy, the neighbor’s kid, drooled over it. “Caleb, let me play when you’re done?” Caleb sneered. “Get away. You dirty hillbilly, you’ll break it. Go play with mud.” Billy rolled his eyes. “I may be a hillbilly, but at least I don’t have a mute sister who kills her dad.” Billy started dancing around, chanting, “Caleb’s sister is a mute! The mute has a brother named Caleb!” Caleb flew into a rage. He grabbed a rock and smashed it into Billy’s head. “She’s the mute, not me! I don’t have a sister! Mom said she’s a debt collector, she should be dead!” “I’ll kill you! You dirty wild kid!” By the time the adults found them, Billy had a four-inch gash on his head. He needed fourteen stitches. That afternoon, I came home to a cold kitchen. When Nana and Mom finally dragged Caleb back, Mom twisted his ear and made him kneel. I did my homework, not looking up. “Why did you hit him with a rock?!” Mom screamed. “Do you know how much trouble I went through to get you into this school?” “Why can’t you behave? You won’t have any friends!” Caleb pointed at me, sobbing. “It’s her fault! They made fun of me because of her! Mom, you said she’s a debt collector, why isn’t she dead yet?” “I want Daddy! I don’t want a sister!” Nana’s face turned green. For the first time, she yelled at Caleb. “Your sister is not a debt collector! Raven is a good child!” Mom heard Caleb say it was my fault, and her anger shifted targets instantly. “Raven! Did I owe you something in a past life? Must you destroy me and your brother? Do you know how much I’ve suffered because of you?” I put my homework in my bag and looked at Caleb kneeling on the floor. His fat face had no childish innocence. Just snot and malice squeezing out of his piggy eyes. His mouth was wide open, wailing. I couldn’t articulate my disgust. So I spoke. “Then let the real debt collector be childless and die before he turns sixteen.” My voice was raspy from disuse, but the curse rang clear in the small room. Nana rushed over and covered my mouth. “Raven! Don’t say such things! There are no debt collectors in this family!” She started bowing to the empty air, like she was possessed. “Child’s words, no harm meant! God, please don’t listen to her nonsense! I apologize on her behalf!” Nana slammed her head against the floor until it bruised. I tried to stop her, but she pulled me down. “Raven, kneel! Tell God you were just talking nonsense!” I stubbornly kept my mouth shut. I was the mute again. Mom laughed coldly. “Ma, if she dares to curse him, let’s see if God opens his eyes.” “Don’t worry. If this little bitch dies, you still have me, and you have your precious grandson. We’ll take care of you.” Nana ignored her, shaking my shoulders. “Raven, take it back!” I shook my head. A word spoken is a word bound. Disappointed, Nana slapped me. It was the first time she ever hit me. I didn’t want to cry in front of Mom. I held back the tears and ran out the door.

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After a full year of flaming each other online, that piece of trash finally cracked. He found an excuse to surrender first: “I’m married, okay? I have to go home and cook for my wife. I don’t have the energy to deal with a psycho like you anymore. Please just block me.” I laughed out loud and typed back: “LMAO. Who would marry a defect like you? Your brain is smoother than a chicken breast. Save the lies for someone who cares.” I was merciless. I felt like I owned the internet today. “Heh. Sorry to disappoint you, but I really do have a wife. And she’s dead gorgeous.” Then, he dropped a photo right in the chat. In the picture, a handsome guy with thick brows and big eyes was standing next to a woman who looked incredibly familiar. Wait a second. Isn’t that me? Isn’t that the photo I took with my crush right before we flash-married? [Why aren’t you replying? Intimidated by her beauty?] [Next time you want to roast someone, look in a mirror first.] [You aren’t even in her league.] [Middle Finger Emoji] The lunatic on the other end kept provoking me. But I just stared at the screen, zooming in on the photo again. The beautiful couple in the picture was undeniably me and my new husband, Luke. But how could this toxic, keyboard-smashing troll be my gentle, virtuous husband? It’s impossible. This hater must have hacked my phone. That has to be it! Clinging to a shred of hope, I typed: [Is that the only photo you have?] [Probably stole it from somewhere.] One second later. He spammed me with ten more photos. All identical to the ones in my private album. Some were candid shots of me taken from his perspective—photos even I didn’t have. [You really will say anything to cope, you sewer rat. Your life must suck if you have to project this hard.] [Look. Here’s the braised ribs I made her. The tofu salad. The shrimp…] [Has anyone ever cooked for you? Or are you eating instant noodles in your mom’s basement?] [Well? Look in my eyes!] [Answer me!] His tone was so arrogant he was practically ascending to heaven. Meanwhile, my heart plummeted straight to hell. I flash-married my secret crush, only to find out he’s the internet troll I’ve been fighting with for a year. We haven’t even been married as long as we’ve been enemies. [Get lost!] He kept spamming, bragging about his life. I sent those two words and blocked him. At 5:15 PM, my husband came home half an hour early. Luke was bending over to change his shoes. I leaned back on the sofa, tilting my head to study him. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and black slacks. Tall, broad shoulders, narrow waist. Thanks to his gym habits, his muscles were perfectly defined, his skin fair. His face was the real killer. Peach-blossom eyes, high nose bridge—he looked like a top-tier K-pop idol. When my friend introduced us, she said he was an Ivy League grad, top-tier IQ and looks. Most importantly, he was a great cook, gentle, and polite. He was exactly my type: the perfect “malewife” material. Looking at his face, I believed it. While we were dating, Luke’s acting was Oscar-worthy. Not a single crack in the mask. He never swore. Not once. One time, I saw a dirty slang term online and forwarded it to him. He video-called me, looking genuinely confused, asking what it meant. “Touch grass? Is that about gardening?” The man on the screen shook his head, looking so innocent and unworldly. I felt guilty for corrupting him. “Oh, it’s just internet slang. Not a nice word. Don’t worry about it.” In reality? I checked our chat logs from that day. He not only understood it immediately, he clapped back with: [Your brain is so smooth I could go ice skating on it.] Thinking about it now… this man is a master manipulator. Luke carried a bag of shrimp into the kitchen. After washing his hands, he trotted over to me like a golden retriever. “Riley, you said you liked the shrimp last time. I left work early to get the freshest ones today.” I lifted my eyelids and gave him a tight smile. “That must have been trouble for you.” He looked at me, eyes crinkling with a smile. He crouched down and took my hand. “It’s never trouble. Cooking for you is my blessing.” No, no, no. I can’t accept that. My “blessing” is apparently eating instant noodles in a basement. “Alright, go cook.” I pushed Luke’s shoulder. I didn’t want to see him acting cute. I used to think it was adorable. Now I just marveled at his commitment to the bit. That night, Luke reached out as usual to hook his arm around my waist, pulling me into his embrace. I stared at the dark ceiling and suddenly asked: “Do you know what a ‘sewer rat’ is?” He let out a confused hum through his nose. “Hmm? What’s that? Some kind of mutant ninja turtle thing?” He sounded so serious. I almost laughed out loud. “You really don’t know?” “Wifey, I really don’t. Tell me?” “Forget it. Let go, it’s hot.” I rolled over, taking the duvet with me, rolling all the way to the edge of the bed. Luke let out a soft “Oh” and lay flat, behaving himself. But a few minutes later, I heard rustling behind me. I turned my head. Hot breath tickled my ear. Luke had scooted over to the edge, chasing me. “Why are you so close?” “Move over.” In the dark, I couldn’t see his face, but his voice was dripping with grievance. “Why?” “You’re too close. I’m hot.” I was getting impatient. “I’ll turn on the AC, okay?” Luke spoke cautiously, terrified of making me angry. “No need. Just scoot over.” Thinking about his arrogant attitude in our DM war, I was still fuming. “Okay.” Luke pulled the blanket up to my stomach, patted me gently, and turned over. Now, we were back to back, a demilitarized zone of three feet between us. I thought I’d feel better, but I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned until 3 AM. Suddenly, a dim light glowed behind me. Luke wasn’t asleep either. He was looking at his phone. Curiosity got the better of me. I turned slightly and peeked. In the search bar, a glaring title: [Why is my wife suddenly cold to me after marriage?] The AI-generated summary at the top had two words: [She’s cheating.] Me: “?” What kind of brain-dead AI is this? Luke turned off his phone. I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. A few minutes later, I heard the sound of tissues being pulled. Then, soft, stifled sobs drifted into my ears. No way. He actually believed it? He believes whatever the AI says? I should sell him oceanfront property in Arizona when we’re old. After a sleepless night, I was dozing off at my desk. I hadn’t even opened the file my boss sent. My phone pinged. A private message on that app. I flinched. I didn’t want to click it. This was the alt account I used exclusively to fight with Luke. We didn’t follow each other. A sudden DM meant my “old friend” was big mad about being blocked. I clicked it. A giant middle finger emoji filled the screen. Called it. Luke, using a blank username, demanded: [Did you doxx me?] Me: [?] [Are you drunk?] [Ever since I sent you my wife’s photo yesterday, she’s been giving me the cold shoulder. She’s never been like this.] [What does that have to do with me?] At least he has some brains. He didn’t stick with the cheating theory. [Stop pretending.] [Did you find her contact info? Did you send her screenshots of our chats?] I watched the “typing…” bubble and felt a sudden urge to play with him. [Wow, you’re smart. So what if I did? Did we talk about anything we shouldn’t have?] Five minutes later, Luke folded. [My wife doesn’t like aggressive people.] [Look, I’ll transfer you a few thousand dollars. You clarify things. Tell her the account in the screenshots isn’t me.] I stared at the phone, speechless. He slid to his knees so fast. He knows exactly what “type” I like, so he wants to keep scamming me. Can’t he just be himself? Is he addicted to roleplaying the innocent flower boy? [Fine.] I went with the flow. [Name a place. I’ll have my secretary bring a contract. You sign, take the money, and explain that the account isn’t me.] Wow, so professional. I checked my business trip schedule for next week and sent a location. [Fine. But I want you to come personally. Otherwise, I will forward every word you’ve typed in the last year to your wife.] Luke: [You psycho, you aren’t going to assassinate me, are you?] Me: [Bring two bodyguards if you’re scared.] I unblocked his account. I honestly forgot how our feud started. Eventually, arguing became a habit. Opening the app and insulting him was like clocking in for work. I clicked on his profile. Man, I discovered a new continent. I was so busy fighting him I never noticed he had posts. One was from last year, back when we were strangers. The first GIF was him getting a tongue piercing. The shiny stud glinted under the light. My pupils dilated. Hiss. WTF? He had a tongue piercing?! Doesn’t that hurt? Just looking at it made my tongue numb. Scroll to the next one. Two slender fingers holding a lit cigarette. Didn’t he say he hates smoking? Scroll to the bottom. A glass of whiskey on a desk. Didn’t he say he doesn’t drink? Luke, you smoke and drink in private? You’re just playing the white rabbit in front of me? I never expected the perfect househusband to be this wild. Just then, a WeChat message popped up. [Wifey, are you off work? I’m downstairs waiting for you.] Looking at his “Lotus Flower” profile picture and his bio—”Heaven Rewards the Diligent”—my exasperation deepened. He loves sending me “Boomer” style memes with giant text. I genuinely thought Luke was an old soul who barely used the internet. Now I highly suspect his sticker pack is full of dank memes. [Coming.] I locked my phone and went downstairs. In the elevator, I met my colleague, Kevin. “Hey! I was just about to call you. Director Liu is treating us to dinner tonight. Come along.” “Ah, pass. My husband is picking me up.” “Perfect! Bring him along. We’ll drink him under the table!” “No, no, my husband doesn’t…” Wait. Drinking? “Okay. Sure. No problem.” Luke sat to my right. He kept attentively putting food on my plate. My colleagues took the chance to tease: “Riley’s husband looks so scholarly. I wonder if he can handle a few drinks with us roughnecks.” Usually, I would intervene. No, my husband doesn’t touch alcohol. Not a drop. But today? I stayed silent. Under the table, Luke’s hand tugged at my sleeve. He shook it gently. I looked into his panicked, reserved eyes. “Drink a little. It’s fine. I’ll drive tonight.” He looked at me pitifully, his long lashes fluttering like a victim. Then, he picked up the glass, frowned, and took a tiny, tentative sip. “Hey, that’s not enough! Bro, are you looking down on me? Bottoms up!” Kevin is a drunkard. He loves pressuring people. Luke wasn’t getting out of here without downing a few. After the fifth full glass, Luke downed it in one gulp. The guys opposite him were already shaking their heads, saying they tapped out. I heard Luke set his glass down. Clink. Then his head hit the table. “Luke?” “Wake up.” I pulled his arm, gently patting his slightly flushed cheek. “Hmm?”

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I accidentally witnessed a murder scene from my balcony. The killer had just delivered two solid thwacks to the victim with a baseball bat. He looked up and saw me standing there, sipping boba tea. From a distance, he counted the floors to my apartment, then flashed me an OK sign. Then, right in front of me, he raised the bat high, ready to savor the final blow. And I, casually, pulled out my slingshot. 1 The rain was torrential tonight. The victim was still conscious, struggling to raise a fist into the air. I couldn’t hear her, but she was probably calling for help. But that gesture only excited the killer more. My presence as a “witness” added an extra layer of thrill for him. Like a gourmet murder feast cooked to perfection, now garnished with a surprise seasoning. Seeing him deliberately pose for the strike, I knew his dominance satisfaction had peaked. Damn it. He actually made me part of his play. I casually picked a smooth pebble from a flower pot and pulled back the elastic band of my slingshot. 2 Thwack. A direct hit to the killer’s wrist. The baseball bat dropped from his hand. I pulled back the slingshot again. Thwack. The second pebble landed by his feet. Then the third, the fourth… He picked up the weapon and tried to run. I slowly pulled the band to its limit, firing three stones at once. The killer went down. I immediately called my best friend, Jane, who lives upstairs, and told her to grab her first aid kit and get downstairs. When I saw the victim’s face clearly, I froze for a second. How is it her again? 3 The girl’s name is Shay, my downstairs neighbor. Besides being tonight’s victim, she’s also the sole survivor of another serial killer case. I knew this because I have a hobby of collecting files on major criminal cases. That case happened ten years ago. The killer was a fisherman who targeted teenage girls. He would usually keep the victims on his boat, torture them for seven days, kill them, and dump the bodies at sea. Shay was only eighteen that year. I couldn’t find details on what she went through. All I know is that she managed to kill the murderer, drifted at sea for three days, and survived. This girl… she’s unlucky, but tough as nails. 4 Currently. Jane shouted twice: “Shay! Shay?!” Shay had lost consciousness. Jane turned to me, panicked. “Eve, she’s losing a lot of blood!” Yes, that was the strange part. The killer was holding a baseball bat, but she didn’t have many blunt force injuries. Instead, she had multiple stab wounds. The heavy rain washed away the blood, making it hard to find the source. I didn’t have time to think. I carried her into the lobby. Once we opened her clothes, Jane gasped. This girl had at least a dozen knife wounds. One was a slash right across her head. In this condition, most people would have passed out long ago, let alone fought back or ran. And she had very few defensive wounds. It seemed she had ignored the knife and attacked aggressively, with considerable skill. She’s smart. She knew that if someone is determined to kill you, curling up and defending gives you a zero percent survival rate. I pried open her tightly clenched fist and saw the killer’s flesh under her fingernails. She also knew that only by touching the killer as much as possible could she leave his traces on herself. Like this handful of DNA. 5 The rain was too heavy earlier to judge blood loss. Just as we stopped the bleeding from the major wounds, Jane suddenly said, “She’s stopped breathing!” I immediately started CPR. Whether she lives or dies now is up to fate. Fortunately, the police and ambulance arrived quickly. Jane ran out into the rain to guide them. Then I heard a scream: “Eve! The killer is gone!” Paramedics rushed in to take over, and I ran out to look. Sure enough, the killer who had collapsed in the rain was gone. Also missing were the baseball bat and the six pebbles I shot. This just got interesting. 6 The police didn’t find it interesting. The lead detective, a woman named Jo, frowned so hard she could have crushed a fly. After a brief questioning, she determined the killer might not have gone far and ordered a search. The heavy rain was washing away evidence fast; every second counted. Shay was loaded onto the ambulance, still receiving CPR. When they put her on the ventilator, I knew she would survive. She lived alone, no family or friends seen, so Jane went with her to the hospital. The police came to my apartment to collect evidence, mainly checking the vantage point. Before I knew it, dawn broke. The good news: Jane called to say Shay survived. The bad news: The golden window for catching the killer had passed. They didn’t find him. 7 That afternoon, Detective Jo brought people to my apartment to check surveillance footage. Unfortunately, the complex’s cameras “coincidentally” malfunctioned last night. Shay worked as a cashier at a nearby convenience store. She was on the night shift. The police pieced together what they could from the store to the complex. 1:30 AM: Store footage showed Shay suddenly running out in terror. 1:41 AM: Complex footage showed Shay running in the rain. 1:45 AM: Shay collided with a man in black wearing a cap. They seemed to clash, he chased her, and they both vanished from the camera’s view. Next was me deciding to watch the rain from my balcony at 2:24 AM. The camera there was broken. The whole thing looked strange, like a random violent conflict. But what conflict makes someone determined to kill her? She fought the killer for 39 minutes! Detective Jo asked, “Ms. Eve, is this the man you saw last night?” The cap guy appeared for only 7 seconds. I pretended to check carefully before saying, “I’m not sure.” Jo: “Why?” “He didn’t have that bat in his hand.” Although Shay had knife wounds, I definitely saw a baseball bat. That’s not something you just keep in your pocket or find on the ground. “There’s no baseball culture in this city. Not even a batting cage.” Carrying a knife “coincidentally” is plausible. Carrying a baseball bat “coincidentally” is absurd. This was the killer’s “ritual.” So, this was likely a premeditated murder. And there were at least two killers. One with a knife, one with a bat. I watched Detective Jo. Clearly, she wasn’t surprised, just very disappointed. 8 But if it was premeditated, it’s hard to explain why Shay suddenly ran out of the store. There was no one around her, no sound. Jo said, “We’re arranging a tox screen and checking for mental health history.” A reasonable deduction. But if that’s the case, the killer couldn’t control when she left the store. I said, “There’s something that might help. Shay is a survivor of the ‘Deep Sea Butcher’ case.” Jo stiffened. The “Deep Sea Butcher.” Every cop learns about it in the academy. It’s famous not just for the case itself, but for the legendary survivor. 9 Jo reacted quickly. That same day, I saw police searching the convenience store extensively. What cameras can’t record is smell. As a survivor, Shay’s case has been studied to death. She spent 7+3 days at sea with rotting fish and a decomposing corpse. Her file says: PTSD. Intense fear and panic attacks triggered by the smell of fish or rot. Long-term avoidance behavior. Simulating that smell isn’t hard. Combined with the rain, one could use water-soluble trimethylamine hydrochloride crystals mixed with a strong base like sodium hydroxide. Reacts with rainwater. I collect case files because I have a secret hobby. I hunt criminals. Now, I’m waiting for the police to finish. I want to see if this killer suits my taste. 10 At 11 PM, Jane was still at the hospital. She called and asked me to check on Shay’s pets on the 9th floor. I asked, “Is Shay awake?” She said no, it was Shay’s neighbor across the hall, Mimi, who reminded her. “The dog is Bright, the cat is Skip. Clean the litter, walk the dog. Food is in the cabinet under the desk…” I went downstairs while taking notes. Shay’s apartment was small, but it took effort to find the pets. They were huddled in a corner of the sofa, terrified. Bright was blind. Skip was lame. Their bowls were full. They hadn’t eaten since last night. Jane: “Probably rescues. Shay is such a homebody, being gone for a day must be terrifying for them.” I stayed silent.

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I pretended to be the long-lost heiress to a billionaire family. The family was just about to kick me out. Suddenly, a stream of floating comments, like a live chat, drifted across everyone’s vision: [Don’t kick her out! Sophie really is your biological child!] [Lisa is the fake! She acts innocent, but she’s plotting to steal the family fortune and kill everyone!] [Even worse, Lisa is manipulating her ‘brother’s’ feelings. The Sterling family is being played like fiddles!] Everyone could see the comments—except Lisa. What they didn’t know was that I was bound to a “Live Stream System.” I was the one sending the comments. My goal? To avenge my dead mother and cousin. 1 The moment the comments appeared, the faces of Lisa’s “parents” and “brother” changed. A heavy silence fell over the room. “What does this mean? I did a DNA test with Lisa. She is my daughter,” Mr. Sterling said, frowning. Lisa, oblivious to the floating text, pointed a finger at my nose and screamed. “How can someone be so shameless? Randomly claiming people as parents! Mom, Dad, kick her out right now!” The brother, Luke, looked bewildered. He looked at me, then at his mother. “Mom… why does she look exactly like you did when you were young?” Mr. Sterling nodded in agreement. “It is uncanny. Let her stay. We’ll do a DNA test first.” Lisa exploded. “Mom! Dad! Are you doubting me? This is so hurtful!” She stomped her foot and ran upstairs, yelling over her shoulder, “Fine! I’ll make room for her since I’m just an eyesore now!” Mrs. Sterling gave me a long look, then instructed the maid to show me to a guest room before rushing upstairs to comfort Lisa. I lowered my eyes, acting like a child who had done something wrong. “Actually,” I whispered, “I just wanted to see what my biological parents looked like. Since you already have a daughter, I won’t disturb you. Seeing you once is enough for me.” Through the system, I sent another wave of comments: [OMG, the real heiress is heartbreaking. She’s too soft!] [How can Sophie be so humble? It’s not her fault she was switched at birth and lived a hard life without knowing her parents.] [You can’t blame Mr. and Mrs. Sterling. Lisa showed up at ten years old with a fake DNA test. They’ve raised her for eight years; they have feelings for her.] I turned to leave, but Mr. Sterling called out. “Sophie, was it? Stay.” Mrs. Sterling grabbed my hand, her eyes scanning my face. The more she looked, the more she saw herself. “Resemblance… the resemblance is undeniable.” Inside, I sneered. Of course I looked like her. My makeup skills were god-tier. Making myself look like her younger self was a piece of cake. Her attitude softened completely compared to moments ago. “If you really are my daughter, I promise you won’t suffer anymore.” I played the obedient girl perfectly. Luke and Lisa had a deep sibling bond. When I moved in, he warned me, “Real or fake, you better be polite to my sister.” They collected my hair for a DNA test. I wasn’t afraid. The hair I gave them belonged to my cousin, who had been dead for eight years. And my cousin was Mr. Sterling’s biological daughter. 2 My aunt was Mr. Sterling’s first love. But for the sake of the family business, he married Mrs. Sterling instead. He wanted my aunt to be his mistress. She refused and left him. She didn’t know she was pregnant. When she gave birth, she was in the same hospital as Mrs. Sterling. Mrs. Sterling’s friend switched the babies. Later, that friend told my aunt the secret. Lisa overheard it. She went to the Sterling family, claimed to be the lost daughter, and used a fake DNA test. After the switch, Lisa resented my cousin for “stealing” her life as a rich miss for ten years. She bullied my cousin relentlessly, eventually driving her to suicide. My aunt nearly went insane. Later, Mrs. Sterling found out my aunt was Mr. Sterling’s first love. Terrified they would reconnect, she hired men to assault my aunt. But they got the wrong person. They grabbed my mother instead. My mother was humiliated and tortured to death. My father and I searched for days, only to find her naked body in an abandoned building. The pain was unbearable. Even worse, the men took the fall to protect Mrs. Sterling. If Lisa hadn’t bragged about it to a friend while I was within earshot, the truth would have been buried forever. I hated Mrs. Sterling and Lisa to my core. Then, I bound with the Bullet Screen System. I came to the Sterling house for revenge. Why should the perpetrators live a life of luxury? 3 Mrs. Sterling spent half the day coaxing Lisa. At dinner, I sat opposite her. She held her head high, looking down her nose at me. “Fake is fake. When the results come back, get out of my house.” Since returning to the Sterling family, Mrs. Sterling felt guilty and spoiled Lisa rotten. Lisa had become increasingly arrogant. I squeezed out two tears and forced a smile. “I’m sorry my presence bothers you, sister. I just wanted to feel the warmth of a family. No need to wait for the results. I’ll leave tomorrow. Seeing Mom and Dad was enough.” Luke shuddered. “Such a ‘pick-me’ girl. Definitely not my sister.” I wiped a tear. “I… I’m not a ‘pick-me’.” I looked devastated. Mrs. Sterling spoke up. “Sophie, Lisa is just straightforward. Don’t take it to heart.” It was normal for them to be skeptical before the results came out. Luke opened his mouth to scold me again, but the comments floated by: [Heartbroken for Sophie. She’s the real daughter but treated like an outsider.] [Keep defending Lisa, Luke. When she tries to seduce you later, don’t come crying to us!] [Lisa calling someone else a ‘pick-me’? Did she forget how she acted when she first arrived? Crying constantly, acting like the cousin bullied her.] My cousin was the one mentioned. Luke’s face turned red. He muttered, “What the hell? Seduce me? No way…” Mr. Sterling looked sternly at Lisa. “Until the results are in, be polite to Sophie!” “Dad! She’s fake! Why wait? Look at how much I look like Mom!” She did look like Mrs. Sterling. But she didn’t look a thing like Mr. Sterling. “Shut up. Since when do you give orders?” Mr. Sterling’s eyes were cold. “You were so sweet when you came at ten. Now you’re spoiled rotten.” “Dad…” Mrs. Sterling tried to mediate, tugging Lisa’s sleeve. “Whether she’s my daughter or not, I won’t let you leave.” Lisa looked incredulous. “Mom, what do you mean? I am your daughter! This random girl says two words and you doubt me? Do you have no judgment?” They had judgment. But my comments were interfering, making them doubt themselves. [Look at her arrogance, challenging Mr. Sterling. She won’t hesitate to destroy the family later.] [Mr. Sterling is such a pushover, letting an adopted daughter scream at him.] [What a coward.] [If my daughter yelled at me like that, I’d slap her.] I cursed Mr. Sterling internally, and the system translated it into comments. Mr. Sterling slammed his chopsticks on the table. “Lisa! If you can’t eat properly, get out!” 4 Lisa’s eyes turned red. “Dad, you’re yelling at me for this impostor?” The atmosphere was heavy. Mr. Sterling looked imposing. “Look at your sharp tongue. Where are your manners?” “I’m being bullied in my own home, and you talk about manners?” Mrs. Sterling pulled Lisa. “Don’t fight your father. Eat quickly, you’ll be late for school.” Seeing no one was on her side, Lisa swallowed her anger. She stood up to leave without eating. Angry already? What a fragile princess. I acted nervous about their fight. Mr. Sterling put food in my bowl. “Ignore her. Eat.” I wiped a tear, ate the food, and looked at him gratefully. “It’s delicious. Thank you, Dad.” [Mr. Sterling is a boss!] [So satisfying seeing that fake get scolded.] [Hope he keeps protecting Sophie. Poor little thing.] Compared to the bratty Lisa, my obedience softened their hearts. Mr. Sterling looked at the butler. “Old Zhou, drive Sophie to school.” Lisa’s eyes widened. “Dad! Old Zhou is mine and Luke’s driver! Can’t someone else take her?” Mr. Sterling wiped his mouth slowly. “Today, you learn who makes the rules in this house.” Lisa glared at me. “You green tea bitch. Wait until the results come out. You’re dead.” As I got in the car, I waved at Lisa. “Bye, sister! Dad is so thoughtful!” Watching her stomp her foot in rage felt amazing. This is just the beginning, Lisa. The DNA results came back in less than a day. It was exactly what Mr. Sterling expected, but not what he wanted. He called me immediately. 5 In the coffee shop, Mr. Sterling tapped the table, eyes sharp. “Tell me, who is your mother? The results say you are only related to me.” I looked up, eyes brimming with tears. “My mom is Cherry Mo. I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean to disturb your happiness. I just missed you.” Cherry Mo was my aunt. Hearing the name, Mr. Sterling froze. “Cherry…” I let the tears fall. “One night, Mom was drunk, crying over your photo. That’s how I knew. I didn’t come for anything. I just wanted to see you.” His gaze turned tender. “Child, don’t say that. I haven’t been a father to you all these years. Stay. Let me make it up to you.” “But Mrs. Sterling won’t agree.” “Don’t worry about that. I have a plan. How… does your stepfather treat you?” My aunt never married. To avoid Mr. Sterling, she cut contact with everyone, including my mom. Until Lisa switched places with my cousin, and my aunt returned to the city. Ironically, they missed each other like characters in a bad drama. After my cousin’s suicide, my aunt tried to jump into the river. Mr. Sterling saved her. They met again. He wanted to rekindle their romance. Mrs. Sterling found out and ordered the hit. Thinking of my mother’s brutal death, I clenched my fists under the table. “Mom says she only loved one man in her life. She’d rather be a single mother than marry just anyone.” He was stunned. “Really? Last year, she told me she was happily married and told me not to bother her. She lied… She’s still hiding from me.” He rambled on about their past love. Finally, he ordered his assistant to forge a DNA test showing I was related to Mrs. Sterling too. So I could enter the house legitimately.

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My whole class got sucked into a “Simp Battle Royale.” [Rule 1: All simps must die.] [Rule 2: Expose a simp to survive.] Upon hearing this, the class president immediately pointed at the drama club president. “I report her! Her boyfriend got caught cheating multiple times, and she forgave him every single time. I have the chat logs right here!” The drama club president looked shocked, opening her mouth to argue, but—pop—she instantly dropped dead. A golden “Immunity Token” materialized in the class president’s hand. Seeing this, chaos erupted. Everyone started pointing fingers, screaming accusations. The classroom turned into a bloodbath. I watched, heart pounding in my throat. Suddenly, my roommate’s ex-boyfriend raised his hand and pointed straight at me. “I report Leeann! She’s a huge simp too! She deserves to die!” 1. My heart skipped a beat. “What are you talking about? I don’t even have a boyfriend! How can I be a simp?” But Brad, my roommate Jessica’s ex, glared at me with pure hatred. “I don’t care! I’m reporting her!” The system paused for a moment before pinging: [Reporter, please submit evidence.] Brad’s eyes widened in confusion. “Evidence? No one said I needed evidence!” The next second, Brad exploded. Literally. Blood splattered everywhere. Jessica screamed, a high-pitched wail of terror as she watched her ex turn into a red mist. System: [Reporters must provide evidence. False accusations result in immediate termination.] The room froze. People who were about to blindly accuse others slowly lowered their hands. Jessica stared at the spot where Brad used to be, dazed. I reached out to comfort her, but she slapped my hand away. “This is all your fault! If it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t be dead!” Jessica screamed, her face twisted with hate. “We broke up because you told me to! And now he’s dead because of you!” “You ruined everything!” Her accusations hit me like a bucket of ice water. We were classmates. Jessica and I were roommates. Back then, she was the one constantly complaining about him to us. “Brad is so annoying! I don’t get what’s going on with him and his ex!” “I checked his phone yesterday. He’s liking all her posts again.” “No DMs, but who knows if he deleted them?” We’d try to offer advice, but she’d instantly defend him. “But I know Brad. He’s a good guy deep down. Nothing happened.” After a few rounds of this, we learned to shut up. But two days later, she’d be throwing her phone again. “Ugh! He met up with his ex yesterday!” “He said it was just lunch, nothing else.” “Should I believe him?” Knowing her pattern, we stayed silent. Every time she complained, she’d turn around and make up with him, making us look like the bad guys for doubting their “true love.” But silence wasn’t enough for her. She grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at her. “Leeann, tell me! Should I break up with him?” I saw she was still on a voice call with Brad. I didn’t dare say anything definitive. “I don’t know… it’s between you two. Just think it over carefully.” “Think it over?” Brad’s furious voice boomed from the phone. “Think about what? Breaking up?” “Leeann, you snake! You just can’t stand to see other people happy!” “You’d love it if we broke up, wouldn’t you?” I was screaming internally. I never said break up! I said think about it! Jessica couldn’t win the argument with him, so she hung up and cried all night. Our dorm took turns comforting her until dawn. The next day, we all looked like zombies with dark circles under our eyes. And Jessica? She put on a full face of makeup and went on a date with him. We were speechless. But then, the cycle repeated. Jessica came back broken again. She was fine during the day, but the moment the clock struck midnight, the waterworks started. She cried for a month. None of us slept. Eventually, we learned Brad dumped her to chase his ex again. He failed, obviously. Now all three of them were miserable. But Jessica didn’t blame Brad. She blamed us for the breakup. She probably told Brad we forced her to break up with him. That’s why Brad hated me enough to try and kill me to save himself. And now Jessica was screaming, “You killed my boyfriend! You pay for this!” I looked at her, my heart turning cold. If she was going to be ruthless, so was I. I spoke to the System. “I report Jessica. Her boyfriend was emotionally cheating with his ex, and she knew but pretended not to see it.” “Even after he dumped her, she tried to get back together.” “Check her chat logs with him. It’s all there.” Under her terrified gaze, I smiled. “I won’t tell you to break up this time.” “Go be with him in hell. Forever.” System: [Audit passed.] In a flash, Jessica dropped dead. 2. A golden Immunity Token appeared in my hand. I looked around. Out of forty students, less than twenty were left. Some died for being simps. Others died for failing to report one. Listening to the reasons, I realized my classmates’ love lives were a mess. Amidst the carnage, I gripped my token tight. In this game, being a gossip queen was a survival skill. Being out of the loop was deadly. Take Sarah, the rich girl who spent every holiday traveling and ignored everyone. She was panicking. She stood there, teeth clenched, thinking hard. Finally, she spoke up. “I report myself! I’m a simp!” “I always fall for deadbeats, spend all my money on them, and get cheated on.” “Even after breaking up, I beg them to come back.” Sarah pulled out her bank transfer records. “Here’s the proof!” Everyone froze. Is she suicidal? Seeing our confusion, Sarah smiled nervously. “There’s a bug, don’t you see?” “Simps must die. But reporting a simp grants life.” “If I report myself, the merit cancels out the sin, right? I survive!” The System paused, seemingly processing this logic. In the terrifying silence, several others who couldn’t find anyone to report followed her lead and reported themselves. A second later, they all—including Sarah—exploded. System: [Repeating Rule 1: All simps must die. Immediately.] Boom. Only fifteen people left. We looked at each other in horror. Once identified as a simp, it was instant death. No loopholes. 3. The remaining fifteen of us were ushered into the next round. My Immunity Token vanished. System: [Round 2: Multiple Choice.] [Identify which of the following statements indicates a true breakup.] [A. We’re done. I will never get back with him. If I take him back, I’m a dog.] [B. This time it’s real. Trust me. This is absolutely the last time. We are completely over.] [C. We broke up. He said he doesn’t love me anymore.] [Please choose.] The class president, Chloe, spoke first. “Easy. ‘Shortest answer is usually right.’ It’s C. Plus, C sounds dead inside. Probably real.” The vice president, Mark, disagreed. “This isn’t the SATs, Chloe. No patterns here.” “I think it’s B. The tone is so firm. Definitely real.” The academic decathlon winner, David, shrugged. “I could argue A is the most sincere because it’s the longest. I choose A.” Bella, the class beauty with the most dating experience, laughed. “At a time like this, just look at the content.” “What do you mean?” Chloe frowned. Bella didn’t answer. She turned to the System. “Can I choose now?” System: [Yes.] Bella said something confidently. We saw her lips move, but no sound came out. The System muted her. We couldn’t cheat by copying. [Answer correct. Proceed to next level.] Bella vanished. That was correct? The rest of us exchanged glances. “What did she pick?” Mark asked. No one knew. The gym jock, Mike, waved his hand. “There are only three options. Let’s just brute force it.” “At worst, two people die. The rest survive.” Easy to say, but who volunteers to be the canary in the coal mine? Silence. Mike grit his teeth. “Nobody? Fine.” He turned to a quiet kid in the corner, Tom. “You go.” Tom was poor and Mike bullied him often. Usually, Mike would pay him off afterwards, so Tom endured it. “If you try it, I’ll pay for your sister’s college tuition,” Mike promised. Tom’s eyes lit up. He hesitated. His sister was in high school. College was expensive. Mike was rich. “Five seconds,” Mike said coldly. “If you don’t, I’ll sue you for all the money I gave you before.” Carrot and stick. Tom turned pale. He couldn’t pay that back. “Five, four, three…” “I’ll do it!” Tom cried. “I choose C.” “The simpler the statement, the heavier the meaning. I think C is right.” He summoned the System. His lips moved silently. System: [Answer incorrect. Immediate termination.] Tom’s eyes bulged in terror. He looked at Mike one last time, hoping he’d keep his promise. Then he was gone. Mike patted his chest, relieved it wasn’t him. He forced another student to try. That student picked A. “The longest one has the most detail!” System: [Incorrect.] Dead. Mike grinned. “So the answer is B.” 4. He summoned the System with total confidence. “I choose.” He spoke his answer. To everyone’s shock, the System boomed: [Answer incorrect. Immediate termination.] Mike exploded. “Impossible!” Chloe screamed. “We tried all three options!” David was sweating bullets. “They were muted when they chose.” “Maybe one of them lied about what option they picked? Maybe they tried to trick us?” “We might have been played.” Panic set in. According to David, everyone before us was unreliable. Only Mike seemed honest because he thought he had the answer key. So B is definitely wrong. It’s still a 50/50 shot between A and C. David wanted to force more people to test, but the muting made it useless. We’d never know what they actually picked. We had to guess blind. Mark frowned. “Screw it. I’m picking.” Several others followed suit, unwilling to overthink it. They all died. Chloe looked confused. “This doesn’t make sense. Statistically, someone should have picked the right one by luck.” She lowered her head, thinking. Suddenly, her brow cleared. “I know.” She spoke to the System. [Answer correct. Proceed to next level.] Chloe vanished. Watching her leave, I remembered Bella’s words: “Just look at the content.” I finally understood. “System, I’m ready to choose.”

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I ordered the first pumpkin spice latte of the season. One sip, and a strange, fishy smell shot straight to my brain. Something was wrong. I immediately messaged the shop. The owner swore up and down that everything was sealed and sanitary, even sending a video of the process to prove his innocence. To show his sincerity, he sent me a fresh one for free. But this time, I received a DM from the delivery driver: [Tsk. Is my special sauce that good? You want another cup?] [Wait for me. I’m coming up! I’ll give it to you fresh…] Boom! My brain exploded. That fishy smell was… My hands shook as I dialed 911. But the next second, a slimy, excited male voice came from outside my door: “Hey beautiful, didn’t you want your latte? Open the door and sign for it!” 01 My heart hammered against my ribs. I knew I had encountered a predator. Suppressing my fear, I tiptoed to the door. Through the peephole, I saw a man in a yellow delivery uniform. His cap was pulled low, hiding most of his face. He stood motionless outside my door, holding a takeout bag. I was terrified. I didn’t dare make a sound. With trembling fingers, I texted 911. Only when I got the confirmation reply did I relax my grip on the phone, realizing my palms were slick with sweat. I absolutely could not open the door before the police arrived. BANG! BANG! BANG! The sudden pounding made me jump. “What the hell? Are you not home?” The driver’s voice rose, laced with agitation. He kicked the door hard. The frame shook violently, and I almost screamed. I clamped my hand over my mouth. The driver scratched his head aggressively. “So boring. I rejected ten other orders just to come here. Thought I could have some fun. Just my luck!” SPLAT. He smashed the latte onto the floor. Watching him turn to leave, I started to relax— Then my phone rang at max volume! 02 Shit! I forgot to mute it! I fumbled with the phone, pressing the wrong buttons in my panic. By the time I silenced it and looked back through the peephole, I was staring directly into a bloodshot eye. I stumbled back two steps. I quickly covered the peephole with my hand. “Hey beautiful, so you are home. Why don’t you come out and get your order?” His disgusting voice seeped through the door. I quickly pulled up a recording of a deep male voice I kept for emergencies. “Just leave it at the door.” He paused, clearly not expecting a man inside. But he persisted: “No can do. Boss said this is a remake, I have to watch you check it personally.” I played the next recording, more aggressive this time: “I said leave it at the door! Stop yapping or I’ll come out there and wreck you!” It worked. His voice instantly turned submissive: “S-sorry bro! I’m leaving!” He stuttered. “L-latte is here. Please don’t give a bad review!” I counted his fading footsteps. Until I heard the elevator ding. Only then did I collapse on the floor, gasping for air. 03 The hallway was dead silent. Even the mechanical hum of the elevator was gone. Just the thumping of my own heart. I gathered my courage to look through the peephole again. But it was pitch black. Like something was blocking it. My blood froze. A chill shot up my spine. Did he really leave? Or was he squatting right outside the door, waiting for me? The thought made me shiver. Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A DM from the driver: [You’re naughty. You’re alone, right? Trying to trick me?] [So slutty, wearing red heels. Since you’re too shy to open the door, I had to release some tension on your shoes first.] [Look. All my essence. You drank it earlier too. Thick and creamy, right?] [Image attached] The photo loaded. My shoes outside the door were covered in a suspicious milky liquid, glistening under the hallway lights. Thinking about what I had just swallowed… My stomach convulsed violently. I clamped a hand over my mouth, but couldn’t stop the retching. I doubled over and vomited on the floor. The sour smell filled the entryway. “Ooh, little beauty, did you throw up?” His sickening laugh came from right outside the door. “Why pretend to be innocent? Living alone in a fancy apartment like this? Who knows how many men you’ve swallowed.” Fighting the nausea, I shook with rage. “You’re sick! I called the cops! Get lost!” “Hahaha…” His laughter grew manic. “I tampered with the elevator. 43rd floor… by the time the cops climb up here… hehe.” He wasn’t even afraid of the police? What do I do? He paced back and forth. Step. Step. Step. Each sound stomped on my heart. “You think you’re safe in there?” His voice was right against the crack of the door. I could smell the stale cigarette smoke on his breath. “I checked. You’re the only one living on this floor…” My heart sank. Buying this condo drained my savings. To save money on rent, I moved in the day I got the keys. Management wasn’t fully set up. Most units were empty. It was a workday. The building was a hollow shell. And he knew it. “Baby…” His voice turned sickly sweet. I heard his hand caressing the door. “Don’t worry. I’ve got good technique. I’ll make you feel amazing.” Regret washed over me. If I hadn’t ordered that damn latte, would none of this be happening? 04 A faint metallic scratching sound came from the lock. I froze, pressing my ear to the cold door. That— That was the click of a key sliding in! He was trying to pick the lock! It had been eight minutes since I called 911. The police needed time. The floor was empty. No one would hear me scream. The click-clack of the lock tumbling grew urgent. No! I can’t let him in! I scrambled to the console table, my shaking fingers barely able to hold my own keys. It took several tries to jam my key into the lock from the inside. I pushed the sofa against the door with everything I had. Then the coffee table. I gripped my pepper spray like a lifeline. This was my last stand. The picking noise outside got frantic. I stared at the handle, watching it vibrate violently as he tried to brute force it. Suddenly— SNAP! A crisp sound of metal breaking. “Fuck!” He cursed, throwing his tools on the ground. Footsteps receded. Did he give up? My legs gave out, and I slid to the floor. My shirt was soaked with cold sweat, clinging to my skin. Ten minutes later. Rapid knocking. “Hello, Ma’am? Police. Did you call 911? Please open the door.” I let out a long breath, standing up on shaky legs. I dragged the heavy furniture away. Just as my hand touched the handle— A thought flashed through my mind. Wait! He said he broke the elevator. 43 floors. How did the cops get here so fast? And why wasn’t he out of breath? “What’s going on?” The “cop” outside sounded impatient, pounding harder. “Didn’t you call us? Open up or we’re leaving!” I bit my lip hard, forcing myself to think. “O-officer.” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Please remove the thing blocking my peephole… I… I need to see your badge…” Silence outside. Seconds later. That familiar voice returned. “Wow, you’re smarter than you look.” His tone was maniacal. “Let’s play a game. Room Escape? You try to escape, and I try to get in!”

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My breakup with my ex-boyfriend was ugly. The year he loved me the most, I took three million dollars from his mother, aborted our child, and betrayed him. He knelt outside the operating room, crying and begging me not to be so cruel. He said he would hate me forever. Six years later, we met again. He had found a beautiful girlfriend from a prestigious family and was about to get married. And I, at my lowest point, went to him to borrow some money. He forced me to attend his wedding, wanting me to watch him marry another woman. He asked me, “Do you regret it?” He didn’t know that I had raised our child alone. And that child was sick and dying. 1. Six years after the breakup, I reunited with Julian in the most humiliating way possible. It was a class reunion. No one expected Julian to show up. Someone joked, “Boss Julian never keeps in touch. Why did he suddenly decide to come this year?” “Did you hear Chloe was coming and still have feelings for her?” I sat in the corner, my back stiffening. I looked up to see Julian with a cigarette in his mouth, staring at me coldly. Everyone knew how much Julian loved me back then. He was the young master of a wealthy family, but he fell in love with me at first sight. That year, he cut ties with his family for me. He gave up power and money, fighting desperately to be with me. We lived in a tiny rental apartment, sharing a single cup of instant noodles or a bowl of porridge. It was hard, but we were happy. Every intimate night, we interlaced our fingers and swore to be together forever. Until later, when I got pregnant. His mother gave me three million dollars to abort the child and leave him. That day, Julian knelt outside the operating room, pounding on the door. He cried and begged me over and over: “Baby, please! I’ll work hard, I’ll make money, I’ll support the family. I’ll earn many, many three millions for you to spend, okay?” “Please, don’t leave me, don’t give up on our child…” I lay on the operating table, biting my lip hard to keep from crying out. Through a thin door, I listened as Julian said he would hate me for the rest of his life. 2. No one knew just how ugly our breakup was. People were pushing me towards Julian, laughing and asking him, “Boss Julian used to love Chloe more than his own life. How could he bear to let her go?” Everyone was egging us on, talking about getting back together. Julian’s friend glanced at me with a sneer and suddenly said, “What kind of woman can’t Boss Julian get? Who does Chloe think she is to make my bro pine for her?” He said there was a woman who had been with Julian for three years. That woman was gentler and prettier than me, more suited to be Julian’s girlfriend. Julian had been with her for three years, and his friends all called her “sister-in-law.” Rumor had it they were getting married soon. The laughter stopped, except for Julian’s friend, who was still smiling and inviting everyone to Julian’s wedding. He threw the invitation at me. It hit my face and fell into my lap. I looked down and saw Julian’s name on it. Next to his was another girl’s name. Her name was Sophia. It sounded like the name of a good girl. I thought she must be more sensible and obedient than me, better at caring for people, and wouldn’t make Julian sad all the time. Six years apart, meeting again after a long time… knowing Julian is doing well is enough. I held back the tears that were threatening to fall, looked up, and said to Julian: “Congratulations.” Julian stared straight at me. Hearing me say congratulations, he suddenly laughed, crushed his cigarette, and said coldly, “Chloe, don’t come to the wedding.” “My wife won’t be happy to see you. If she’s unhappy, my heart will ache.” I clutched the thin red invitation and paused. I nodded with a smile and whispered, “Okay.” 3. That day, everyone said it seemed Julian really didn’t love me anymore. No one expected that we had once loved so deeply. In the end, he was getting married, and the bride wasn’t me. Everyone thought Julian would wait for me forever. Everyone was curious about who this Sophia was, to make Julian so captivated and doting. I knew Julian didn’t want to see me again, so I left the reunion early. On the way home, a friend sent me a photo of Sophia. Sophia looked very pure in the photo. I heard she loved to smile and act cute, exactly the type of girl Julian liked. My friend asked me, “Chloe, don’t you think Sophia looks like you when she smiles?” “Do you think Julian still loves you? Is it really over between you two?” I exhaled gently, remained silent for a long time, and then smiled, “It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t care.” I didn’t want to be entangled with Julian anymore. I thought he would never know that I secretly gave birth to our child, hiding it from everyone. That child was sick and dying. 4. This year was the poorest and hardest of my life. I worked desperately to make money, wanting my child to have the best medicine so he wouldn’t be in so much pain when he was sick. For money, I could thicken my skin and go to a class reunion to borrow from people, or work as a hostess in a club, drinking until my stomach bled. I thought that would probably be the last time Julian and I ever saw each other. Until a few days later, the girl named Sophia found me. Sophia had probably heard from others that she looked like me and wanted to meet me. She came to the club with a few friends and asked for me by name. One girl asked me, “You’re Chloe? Julian’s first love?” Her eyes were full of contempt, looking at my heavy makeup as if to say I was dirty. I clenched my fists, suppressing my temper to avoid trouble, and just asked if they wanted drinks. If not, don’t stop me from making money. The girl probably felt I wasn’t giving her face and shouted at me, “What’s with that attitude? I asked you a question, are you deaf? Don’t be ungrateful.” She pointed to a bottle of hard liquor and said, “Fine, Chloe, you like money, right? Drink this whole bottle in one go, and I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars.” Drinking that bottle would probably land me in the hospital. Sophia pretended to be anxious and advised the girl, “Didn’t we agree just to take a look and not make things difficult for Chloe?” “Although people say she’s good at seducing men and told me to be careful of her, and even Julian said I was too naive and afraid she would bully me.” “But I’m fine.” I listened quietly to Sophia’s words and understood. She was telling me how much Julian liked her and how much he hated me. I smiled and didn’t speak, just asked her friend, “It’s a deal, right? I drink the bottle, and you give me twenty thousand.” Then I picked up the bottle and started chugging. Everyone was stunned, not expecting me to really risk my life for money. Sophia pulled my hand and gently persuaded me, “Chloe, how can you ruin yourself like this for money?” “We women should know shame. I didn’t want to say it for fear of hurting you, but you know, Julian hates women like you the most…” I finished the bottle, endured the severe pain in my stomach, interrupted her, and asked, “Where’s the money?” “What Julian likes or hates is none of my business. I just want the twenty thousand you promised.” Sophia frowned, looking at me with disappointment, and said softly, “Chloe, to be honest, that twenty thousand is just pocket change to me. I could give it to anyone, but I can’t give it to you.” “You can blame me, but I’m doing this for your own good. I can’t watch you continue to degrade yourself…” Her friend pushed me and laughed, “I was just playing with you. I’m not giving you the money. What are you gonna do about it?” I laughed coldly along with her, then raised my hand and smashed the bottle. The flying glass shards cut Sophia’s leg, drawing blood. Sophia’s tears fell instantly. The women who were noisy just moments ago fell silent. The next second, the door to the private room opened, and Julian stood there, staring at me coldly. I froze, afraid to look into his eyes. Julian saw me wearing heavy makeup, drinking with men for money, and trying to please them. Actually, I wasn’t afraid of people looking down on me, I just didn’t want Julian to know I was living so miserably. But in the end, even that small wish didn’t come true. I could only try my best to pretend I didn’t care, forcing myself to look up and watch Julian pull Sophia into his arms and gently wipe away her tears. Then he asked me word by word, “Chloe, who are you bullying in front of me?” “You want money? Fine. Apologize first.” I watched Julian protect Sophia and remembered how he used to protect me a long time ago. I knew Julian wanted me to make Sophia happy. It didn’t matter. For money, I would do anything. Sophia hid in Julian’s arms, smiling secretly at me. I looked at the wound on her leg, picked up a piece of broken glass, and slashed myself hard. Then I held out my bloody hand and said calmly to Julian, “Give it to me. Twenty thousand.” Julian looked at me, and his eyes suddenly turned red. Sophia saw Julian’s expression, and the smile on her face froze. She took out a bank card, put it in my hand, and said softly, “Chloe, I’m giving you money today not because I owe you, but because I don’t want things to get ugly over a little money like you did.” I couldn’t be bothered to watch her act high and mighty anymore. I took the money and turned to leave, but Julian grabbed me. He called my name and cursed through gritted teeth, “Chloe, doesn’t it f***ing hurt? Will you die without money?” His tightly furrowed brow made it seem like he was hurting for me. I shook off his hand forcefully, turned back, and sneered, “I’ve always been a woman who loves money, Julian. Didn’t you know?” “Mind your own business, and mind your woman. Don’t mess with me again.”

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In the middle of a 104°F heatwave, the new dorm manager cut off the AC for our room—and only our room. Turns out, she was the future mother-in-law of our pregnant roommate. “Only weak girls need AC in weather like this,” she declared. “My precious grandson is going to be a man. He needs to build his masculinity in the heat.” In our past life, my two other roommates and I tried to reason with her. We told her it was superstition, that prolonged exposure to extreme heat could cause heatstroke and endanger both the mother and the baby. Scared by our warnings, the dorm manager grudgingly turned the AC back on. But when our roommate eventually gave birth to a girl, the manager blamed us. She claimed the AC “cooled off” her grandson’s masculinity and turned him into a girl. To get revenge, she had her thug of a son sneak into our dorm at night and torture the three of us to death. When I opened my eyes again, we were back to that moment. The manager was ranting about her grandson’s “masculinity.” I exchanged a look with my other two roommates. None of us argued. Instead, we immediately went to the RA and requested a room transfer. Let him build his masculinity. I want to see what kind of monster she cooks up this time. 1 “Don’t say I never treat you well.” “You three better take good care of my precious grandson. Soak up some of that masculine energy.” “Maybe it’ll help you find a man as good as my son someday.” In the dorm, the new manager, Mrs. Liu, had her nose in the air, acting like she was bestowing a great honor upon us. Hearing these familiar words, I snapped back to reality. I had been reborn. Back to the day Mrs. Liu cut our AC. In my last life, my roommates and I took turns persuading her. We finally got her to turn the AC on. But our reward was her calculated revenge. The most chilling part was that we did it for her pregnant future daughter-in-law, our roommate, Sarah. Yet when we were being tortured to death by her thug son, Sarah just watched coldly. “Serves you right,” she sneered. “Who told you to meddle?” “If it weren’t for you, my precious son wouldn’t have turned into a useless girl.” “You made Liam and his mom blame me. You deserve to die.” Remembering the agony of my past life, a chill ran down my spine. Then I noticed Sarah staring at me. Just now, hearing Mrs. Liu refuse the AC, Sarah was unhappy too. A small, stuffy dorm in 104-degree heat is basically an oven. But she didn’t dare openly defy her shrew of a future mother-in-law. So she looked at me with pitiful eyes. “Chloe…” I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to be her mouthpiece. In my last life, I stood up for her. And the result? She threw me under the bus, and I ended up dead. This time, I scratched my head, stared at my phone, and pretended I was deaf. Seeing I wasn’t biting, Sarah turned to my other roommates, Lily and Jess. But they also kept their heads down, glued to their phones, ignoring her. Seeing a scene so different from my past life, a thought flashed through my mind. I quickly made a group chat with Lily and Jess. Me: [Did you guys come back too?] Lily: [You too?] Jess: [You too?] We exchanged glances. We had all been reborn. Back to before everything went to hell. 2 Mrs. Liu was still rambling. “Lily, you’re in charge of bringing food for my grandson. Get nutritious stuff—sea cucumber, abalone. How else will he grow strong?” “And you, Jess. Take my grandson out for sunbathing every afternoon. Bring fruit, too. Cherries are acceptable.” The three of us rolled our eyes in unison. Mrs. Liu spoke as if these were facts. She demanded the best. But she never mentioned money. She was clearly trying to mooch off us. And she acted like we should be grateful. She wasn’t done. She turned her imperious gaze to me. “As for Chloe, you’re responsible for…” I started coughing violently, cutting her off. Mrs. Liu looked at me with disgust. “What do you have? Don’t pass it to my grandson.” “So unlucky,” she muttered. I shook my head weakly, coughing harder. “I… cough… I don’t know…” “Cough… but don’t worry… cough… I will definitely… help take care of… your grandson… cough cough…” I made a move to lunge towards Sarah. Mrs. Liu, terrified for her “grandson,” blocked me immediately. “Stop! Stop! How can a sick person get near my grandson?” “If you infect him, can you afford the consequences?” I looked at her innocently. “But… but didn’t you just say I should serve your grandson?” Meaning: You asked for this. Why are you blaming me now? Mrs. Liu didn’t care about logic. She only cared about the baby. She practically threw herself on the ground, throwing a tantrum. “I don’t care! Move out of this dorm right now!” “If my grandson catches anything from you, I won’t let you off!” Since she insisted… I “reluctantly” agreed. “Okay… okay… cough…” “I’ll… move out as soon as possible…” Seeing this, my roommates followed suit. One claimed a headache and fever. The other said she had chickenpox recently and was still contagious. Seeing all three of us “useless,” Mrs. Liu cursed up a storm. As she shooed us out, she couldn’t help but make snide remarks. “You girls have no luck.” “My grandson is enduring this heat so he’ll be born with masculine energy.” “I wanted you to serve him so you could catch some luck and find a husband.” “Guess you don’t deserve that blessing.” Her tone was smug, as if serving her unborn grandson was the highest honor. We had just spoken to the Resident Director about switching rooms. Since he approved, we were already packing. Hearing Mrs. Liu, we rolled our eyes again. Whatever. Whoever wants that “blessing” can have it. We sure as hell don’t. 3 Before we left, Sarah grabbed our hands, squeezing out a few fake tears. “Chloe, you guys are leaving…” “I’ll be scared all alone in the dorm…” My eyes almost rolled into the back of my head. Scared? Scared no one will wait on her hand and foot. In our last life, Sarah used her pregnancy to boss us around like servants. If we didn’t do exactly as she pleased, she’d clutch her belly and cry pain. We endured it because we were roommates. And look where that got us. Now? Whoever wants to serve her can go ahead. We quit. But we had to put on a show before leaving, just in case she tried to stop us. I pinched my thigh hard, forcing out some tears. “Sarah… cough… we don’t want to leave either…” “But… cough… we’re afraid of infecting… cough… infecting you…” The moment I coughed, Sarah snatched her hand back like she’d touched fire. Her eyes were full of undisguised disgust. When I looked up, she quickly masked it with a fake sad face. “Chloe… since you’re leaving…” “Can you leave me something to remember you by?” “I’ll miss you guys so much…” She stared greedily at the designer bags in my closet. She was basically trying to rob me in broad daylight. I sneered internally. She wasn’t even hiding it anymore? My family is well-off. As an only child, my parents spoil me. Many of those bags were birthday gifts. In our last life, Sarah constantly “borrowed” my bags. She needed one for a date. She needed one to show her parents she was doing well so they wouldn’t worry. I believed her lies and lent them to her. She never returned them. Whenever I asked, she’d make excuses. If I pressed, she’d clutch her stomach and wail. She just wanted to steal them. And now she wants more? Keep dreaming. 4 I pretended not to understand her hint. I blinked innocently. “Sarah, I really want to leave you something.” “…Cough… but I don’t know if this sickness spreads through contact…” “If… cough… the germs get on the stuff and infect the baby… that would be bad…” Hearing that her precious grandson might get sick, Mrs. Liu stepped in immediately. She glared at Sarah. “What do you want their stuff for?” “Can those trashy things compare to my grandson?” “If anything happens to him, I’ll skin you alive.” Sarah was terrified. She smiled ingratiatingly. “Mom, I know.” “I was just saying it. I didn’t think Chloe would take it seriously.” I was speechless. So if I gave it to her, it would be my fault? And calling her “Mom” before the wedding? Sarah really has no shame. But none of this mattered anymore. That night, Lily, Jess, and I moved into a new dorm room. It was empty, so it was just the three of us. Perfect. We didn’t want another Sarah. 5 That night, the building group chat exploded. “I can’t take it anymore… can someone handle this dorm manager? @ManagerLiu” “She forced me and my roommates to move to Room 103.” “And she expects us to wait on her pregnant daughter-in-law? Is she insane?” Another girl chimed in: “I thought moving was no big deal to avoid trouble.” “But this lady demands we buy expensive food and drinks for the pregnant girl? With what money? She didn’t give us a dime!” Before the gossip could settle, a third girl spoke up: “The craziest part…” “This psycho cut our AC in 104-degree heat.” “She said her grandson can’t have AC or he won’t have ‘masculine energy.’” “If you want masculine energy, why don’t you send your daughter-in-law to live on the sun?” “Did you get dropped on your head as a baby?” The chat was filled with onlookers eating popcorn. The three girls kept tagging @ManagerLiu, demanding an explanation. Finally, Mrs. Liu replied. Her words made everyone want to vomit blood. “Serving my grandson is a blessing you earned in a past life.” “What do you know? He’s a man born with masculine energy.” “Maybe you’ll get lucky and find a man like my son later.” “You’ll be thanking me then.” Her tone wasn’t apologetic at all. She was proud. Like we were the unreasonable ones. The chat went nuclear. “What is this? Did a fossil from the Qing Dynasty come to life?” “Someone call an ambulance, she’s having a stroke.” The three girls didn’t take it lying down. They went to the Resident Director the next morning. After hearing the story, the RD moved them back to their original room and summoned Mrs. Liu. Surprisingly… Mrs. Liu wasn’t fired. Rumor had it she fell to her knees, crying about how hard her life was and how she was just worried about her grandson. She begged for another chance. The RD, soft-hearted, gave in. But she was on thin ice.

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During a road trip through Tibet, my brother and sister-in-law egged my nephew on to feed spicy beef jerky to a Tibetan Blue Bear. Seeing the bear panting and making goofy faces from the spice, the three of them laughed hysterically, filmed it, and uploaded it online. Who knew? The video went viral overnight, racking up over a million views. Desperate to become influencers and cash in, they spent the next day specifically hunting for bears to feed. That’s when I noticed something terrifying. The bear currently performing tricks for my brother’s camera… was the exact same bear we fed yesterday. 1. I peered through the half-open car window. The bear was chomping down on the food, drool stringing from its jaws to the ground. It looked goofier than your average predator. That was exactly why my brother, Brad, and his wife, Karen, couldn’t tear themselves away. The bear, having just swallowed a stick of spicy jerky, was waving its paws and sticking its tongue out in a way that looked almost human. It was “cute.” My family was losing their minds laughing. Brad, holding the phone, shifted angles. “Danny, get closer! Yeah, right there. Smile big for the camera!” Karen was directing from the side. “Danny, give him another piece! I think he wants more. We need different angles for the compilation video later.” We had stopped a few times to feed bears without incident, but sitting in the backseat, I felt a knot tightening in my stomach. Something was wrong. I pulled out my phone and pulled up the video they posted last night. This bear was too unique. Not just its mannerisms, but that specific patch of grey-white fur on its neck. It was identical to the one in the video. This was the same bear. Yesterday, it had stared at them, eating everything Danny threw at it, drooling everywhere. The comments section was blowing up: “OMG, never seen a bear that greedy!” “It’s a foodie bear! So cute!” Maybe I was staring too hard. The bear, having just finished a handful of cookies, swivelled its black, beady eyes and locked onto me. It sent a chill down my spine. I immediately rolled up the window, locked the door, and pressed my back against the seat, taking a deep breath. This bear wasn’t right. It was too harmless. It acted like a circus animal, knowing exactly what moves would make the tourists happy. I turned to our local guide. “Dorje, how far to the next campsite?” “Not far,” Dorje said. “Maybe thirty miles.” “That close? Won’t these bears follow us?” Dorje laughed at my paranoia. “No way. Tibetan Blue Bears only chase prey for a hundred yards or so. They give up quick.” Seeing my pale face, he added, “Relax. The spot is safe. I take tourists there all the time. Never had an accident.” I quickly Googled it. He was right. Bears usually don’t stalk prey over long distances unless they are starving. But what if this bear was different? We had seen plenty of wildlife. These bears weren’t starving. So why would it follow us for a whole day just for some snacks? No. It wasn’t the snacks. Sure, human food is tasty, but for a massive predator, a few sticks of jerky isn’t even a snack. It’s a crumb. Plenty of tourists feed bears on this highway. There was no reason to target us specifically. Unless the food wasn’t the jerky. Unless the food… was us. 2. It took ages to drag them back into the car. My nephew, Danny, kicked my shin the moment he got in. “Why are you rushing us? I wasn’t done feeding the bear!” Karen rolled her eyes. “What? Are you jealous because we went viral?” She turned to Brad, using her whiny voice. “Babe, you know what kind of people act like this? It’s always family. They just can’t stand seeing you do better than them.” I opened my mouth to explain, but Brad cut me off. “Summer, can you stop being such a hater? Have you forgotten who beat up the neighborhood bully for you when we were kids?” I hadn’t forgotten. I also hadn’t forgotten that the bully only hit me because Brad stole his Gameboy. But now wasn’t the time for history lessons. I showed them the comparison photos. “Look at the fur pattern. It’s the same bear. It followed us.” They brushed it off. “You’re seeing things.” Dorje looked at the photos. “Huh. They do look alike. But bears look similar out here.” Seeing nobody believed me, I put my foot down. “For safety, I think we should cancel the ‘Starry Night Camping’ plan. There’s a town with a hotel another 150 miles up the road.” Karen shrieked. “No way! The camping is the highlight of the trip! We aren’t canceling!” Brad frowned. “Stop being dramatic. The guide says it’s fine. Do you know more than the local expert now?” Danny went feral. He reached over the seat and yanked my hair. “We are camping! You bitch! You stole my money and now you ruin my fun! Die!” The brat had a grip like a vice. I screamed in pain and pinched his arm as hard as I could until he let go. Seeing my red eyes and Danny’s tears, Karen pulled her son into a hug. “He’s just a child! You’re a grown woman hurting a nine-year-old? Are you human?” She started fake crying. “I never even spank him, and you pinch him until he bleeds? Brad, look!” Brad glared at me from the passenger seat. If Dorje hadn’t been driving, he probably would have hit me. “Summer, if there is a mark on him, you’re paying for it.” I had organized this trip to fix my relationship with my brother’s family. Clearly, that was a mistake. I decided to respect their fate. “If you guys are camping, I’m staying in the hotel.” “No,” Brad said. “One car. We stick together.” “Dorje can drop you guys off, take me to the hotel, and come back.” “Absolutely not!” Karen snapped. “The hotel is the opposite direction of tomorrow’s sights. Why should we waste time on you?” She sneered. “You picked a hotel so far away… what if the car doesn’t come back? You want us stranded in the wild? I knew you were up to no good. Inviting us on a trip… probably hoping we’d disappear so you get Mom and Dad’s inheritance.” I couldn’t win. I was forced to go to the campsite. But I refused to leave the vehicle. I locked myself in the driver’s seat with my backpack. 3. The Tibetan night sky was indeed beautiful. Brad and Karen’s livestream was popping off again. Danny’s bear-feeding photos were trending. They were bragging to their fans, encouraging them to come out. “Guys, get here ASAP! The bear cubs are so cute!” I tried commenting, warning people that bears are omnivores and dangerous, but my comments were drowned out by fans mocking me for being a buzzkill. Exhausted from the excitement, the three of them fell asleep in their tent. Silence enveloped the plateau. I started dozing off, watching the stars through the sunroof. Suddenly, the car lights flashed twice. Someone had hit the lock button on the remote. I sat up straight. There were only two keys. Brad had one. Dorje had the other. Brad and Dorje wouldn’t prank me. That left Danny. I looked at the tent near the dying campfire. It was silent. If Danny was messing around, he wouldn’t be this quiet. Click. Someone pulled the door handle behind me. It was locked. A bad feeling washed over me. I held down the internal lock button with one hand and slid down in the seat. Click. Another sound. My heart hammered. I pressed the lock again. Because someone had unlocked it with the remote, the interior lights had turned on. Someone tried the door again. Suddenly, a massive, furry face pressed against the driver’s side window. Beady black eyes scanned the interior. I curled into a ball under the steering wheel, covering myself with my backpack, praying it didn’t see me. 4. Thanks to the window tint and my hiding spot, the bear didn’t spot me. It circled the car once and seemed to wander off. I grabbed my phone to text Brad, but hesitated, afraid the light would give me away. THUMP. The car shook violently. Something heavy had climbed onto the roof. I remembered reading that bears are incredibly smart and vengeful. When released into the wild, other animals run; bears come back to the driver’s side to settle the score. They even check under the car. That bear had memorized our faces. It knew exactly how many of us there were. It was hunting us. I covered my phone with my jacket sleeve to block the light and sent texts to Brad and Dorje. [Danger. Bear outside the tent!] Ding! Ding-dong! Crisp notification sounds rang out in the silent night. One was Brad’s, coming from the tent. The other was Dorje’s. It came from just outside the car—but nowhere near the tent. My blood ran cold. I had heard strange unlocking sounds earlier. I suspected Dorje was already dead. He was the most experienced, the first threat to neutralize. I had hoped he just dropped his keys. But now, with the bear lying on the hood of the car, blocking the windshield with its massive bulk, I knew. Dorje was gone. The bear was staring through the glass, looking for me. Suddenly, voices came from the tent. Brad and Karen had woken up. They saw the bear outside their tent. But unlike me, they weren’t screaming in terror. They were screaming in delight.

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