Category: English

My mom never let me eat junk food. After getting sucked into a horror game, I found myself hiding in a convenience store, a double cheeseburger in one hand and a large boba milk tea in the other. While other players were scrambling for their lives as the Final Boss descended, I was determined to die on a full stomach. I didn’t stop chewing. Suddenly, the Boss roared: “Bean! You’re eating that trash again?!” Holy crap. Mom? 1 It took me exactly 0.1 seconds to accept my fate after getting pulled into this survival horror game. Why? Because I got lucky. I spawned in a convenience store. I looked around. Potato chips, fried chicken, burgers, pizza… It was all seducing me. My mom never let me touch this stuff. She called it “garbage for your gut.” But then she died, I became an orphan, and I was too broke to afford it anyway. A player next to me whispered, trembling, “There’s definitely something wrong with this food! Don’t fall for it! Everything in a horror game is a trap!” Really? I looked at the burger sitting right in front of me. It smelled heavenly. My stomach growled. Grrr. It’s just a cute little burger. What could possibly go wrong? Eating poison is better than starving to death. So, I picked it up and took a huge bite. Juicy patty, fresh lettuce—satisfaction. I demolished the burger in seconds, then reached for a bag of chips. Crunch. So crisp. So salty. I washed it down with a grape-flavored boba tea. Life was good. Seeing me eat with such gusto, the others started getting restless. “Is it actually safe?” “I’ve run so many dungeons, I’ve never seen edible food.” “But… look how happy she looks.” They stared at me. When I reached for a pack of spicy jerky, they finally broke. “Give me that self-heating hot pot!” “I want the strawberry milk!” “Pass me the cup noodles! Beef flavor!” The store was instantly filled with the aroma of MSG and grease. But a second later, they all started puking. “What the hell?! There’s hair in these noodles! Blargh.” “This isn’t milk… Gag… it’s… blood…” “Help! Get it away! There are fingers in this box! And an eyeball!” I stared at the mess in front of them, dumbfounded. The spicy jerky in my hand hadn’t changed. It was oily, spicy, and delicious. Definitely just jerky. The others looked at me with suspicion. “Yours is fine?” I offered a piece kindly. “You can try it.” They backed away like I was the plague. “This is sus. Why does she get special treatment?” “I heard this dungeon buffs little girls. It’s creepy.” Suddenly, someone had a dark thought. Their eyes glinted cold. “Hey… what if we kill her?” “Then her inventory becomes ours.” My cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunk. “Huh? Me?” Tears instantly streamed down my face. I garbled out, “Don’t kill me! I have no dad, no mom, I just wanted a full meal for once! Can’t you let me live a little longer?” Look, when you’re out in the world, sometimes you gotta play the pathetic card. A big, burly guy couldn’t watch anymore. He stepped in. “Forget it. Why are you bullying a little girl? Even if you take her stuff, who says you can eat it?” “The Boss hasn’t even shown up yet. One more person is one more meat shield.” And just like that, they didn’t kill me. For three days, I didn’t take a single step out of that store. After some testing, we realized that only the hot dogs I personally grilled were safe to eat. So, I set up a stall. The others protected me. I fed them. 2 This horror game ran on a points system. More points meant stronger skills. Reach 10,000 points, and you get to return to the real world. Everyone else earned points by fighting ghosts. I earned points by selling sizzling hot dogs. Sell one, eat one as a reward. One day, everyone went out to hunt, leaving me alone in the store. Suddenly, the door was smashed open. My sign—”Sizzling Dogs, 2 Points Each”—fell to the ground and shattered. I was furious. But the intruders were holding high-level weapons and looked like they meant business. I immediately turned into a coward. Their leader grinned, “There really are supplies here! Haha, and they only left one girl to guard it.” “Get her. Kill her, and this place is ours.” Kill me? Again? I was out of options. Just as his blade was about to come down on my head, a mechanical chime rang through the air. [DING.] [ATTENTION PLAYERS. THE DUNGEON BOSS IS APPROACHING.] [WARNING! WARNING!] A Boss? Since when did this game have a roaming Boss? Wait, if the Boss is coming, what do I do? I can’t fight. I can’t run. I hesitated for exactly one second before deciding to just lay flat. Whatever. Everyone dies eventually. The gang panicked. “I thought the Boss was dormant! Why is it awake?” “Just our luck! Why now?” “Boss, think of something!” “I don’t want to die here! I want to go home!” They tried to run, but an invisible force locked everyone inside the store. But… this pressure felt weirdly familiar to me. I took a bite of a hot dog. Yeah, definitely familiar. I took a sip of boba. Tsk. I remembered. This chill down my spine was the exact feeling I got when my mom used to catch me sneaking snacks. The store was enveloped in a dark gloom. The bad guys were paralyzed with fear, collapsing on the floor. I leaned against the counter, ignoring the black fog creeping toward me. “Hmph. If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die full.” Burp. “Man, I actually kinda miss my mom. Will I see her if I die?” Thinking of that possibility, I wasn’t scared anymore. My appetite surged. I reached under the table for a hidden chocolate bar. I wanted to die sweet. Suddenly, a furious voice exploded from the air: “Gu Bean! You are eating that trash again!” Holy crap. Mom?! Reflexively, I hid the snacks behind my back. I looked around. Nothing but black fog. I whispered tentatively, “Mom?” “Mom, is that you?!” My mom was dead. Does your mom really come to pick you up before you die? That’s awesome! Tears of joy shot out of my eyes. I screamed, “Mommy! You finally came for me!” “Mommy, Mommy, where are you?” “I was wrong! I won’t sneak snacks anymore!” “Mommy look, I grew taller! Oh, and I got first place in my finals! Teacher says I’m smart, I can definitely get into an Ivy League school!” “Mommy, I’m gonna make so much money, you won’t have to work anymore!” But no matter how much I shouted, there was no response. The black fog thickened. I started to suffocate. Death was closing in, but Mom wasn’t answering. I felt sad. I mumbled, “Mommy… I miss you so much.” Fate is cruel. I was adopted. Mom raised me all on her own. When I started middle school, she ran into a robber on her way home from work. She died on the spot. I became an orphan again. Then, on my sixteenth birthday, while buying a slice of cake, I got stabbed by some psycho taking revenge on society. Everyone enters the horror game for a reason. The rule is: escape the game, revive in reality. I didn’t really care about living. I just missed my mom. Suddenly, a human shape materialized in the black fog. A red floral dress. Gentle features. Kind eyes. She stood in front of me, stunned for a long moment, before whispering, “Bean… you’ve grown so big.” 3 It really was Mom! I threw myself at her, but instead of a warm hug, I felt like I was drowning. I couldn’t breathe. Mom quickly stepped back. “Sorry, sorry! Bean, I forgot. I can’t hold you tight right now.” She was one with the black fog. The tighter she held me, the more fog I inhaled, the faster I suffocated. I had so much to say to her. She glanced at the snacks around me and started counting, frowning deeply. “Five hot dog sticks, two bottles of milk, three instant hot pots, three bags of chips… Bean, you’re eating too much.” I felt guilty. “I can’t help it, Mom. I was hungry.” “And you never let me eat this stuff before, so I lost control…” Mom interrupted me. “Eat. Just eat. Do you feel sick anywhere?” My stomach used to be incredibly sensitive. Before Mom adopted me, I ate out of garbage cans. It ruined my gut. As a kid, even an egg would make me throw up. That’s why Mom controlled my diet so strictly. Science-based feeding. Once, I snuck some spicy strips and ended up in the ER, puking and having diarrhea. I saw Mom crying secretly that night. I never asked for junk food again. But weirdly, eating all this trash in the game didn’t hurt at all. I ate, slept, ate again. I was living the life of a piglet. Mom sighed in relief, then looked at me seriously. “Bean, are you willing to come find me?” I nodded furiously. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!” Mom said her current form was just a projection. Her real self was somewhere else. She gave me a route and put a Peace Amulet around my neck. She said it could block death once. Before she left, she wasn’t reassured, so she spawned a massive pile of food out of thin air. “Bean, remember what I told you. Eat well, sleep on time, drink water. And… be a coward when you need to be. Don’t worry, Mom will protect you.” Mom’s figure blurred, her voice fading. Finally, the black fog retreated like a tide. Looking at the unchanged store, I felt dazed. Did I really just see Mom? “Bean! Are you okay?!” My companions were back. The one calling me was the burly guy, Big Mike. There were corpses scattered on the floor, blood everywhere. The bandits were dead. But the ground around my feet was spotless. Big Mike was nervous. “Kid, how did these guys die? Did the Boss show up? How… how are you alive?” The others looked at me with new suspicion. The amulet on my neck felt warm. I grinned at Big Mike. “My mom told me to go find her. Will you guys come with me?” Mom said it wasn’t safe alone. I needed bodyguards. Besides, without my hot dogs, they couldn’t eat anything safe. So I laid out my terms: “Come with me, and I’ll cover your meals.” No one wanted to starve to death in a horror game. But after hearing the route, Big Mike hesitated. “Bean… the route you described… it’s full of Triple-S Rank anomalies.” 4 Huh? Is it hard? No wonder Mom gave me a skill: Infinite Hot Dog Spawning. Sprinkle some chili powder… chef’s kiss. Mom was definitely afraid I’d go hungry. Big Mike thought about it and said, “Bean, I know you miss your mom. But is it possible that wasn’t your mom? What if it’s a demon tricking you?” Would it? Trick me for what? Scamming a minor is highly unethical. Besides, I’d made up my mind. Even if it was a scammer, I was going. What if it was Mom? Big Mike hesitated, then slammed his fist into his palm. “Screw it. I’ll go!” I was surprised. Big Mike smiled, though his eyes were tearing up. “The nearby monsters give low points. I can’t waste time… My wife is waiting for me.” Mentioning his wife, a blush appeared on his dark, rugged face. Hearing this, others stepped up. “I’ll go too. My kid is waiting. She’s only six!” “I’m in. This place is hell, I’m not sitting here waiting to die.” “Take me!” “I’m following the Hot Dog Princess. I don’t wanna starve.” Soon, our squad arrived at the first stop: The Lame Old Lady’s Cabin. As soon as we approached, the smell of rot hit us. Grey skies. Broken windows. Howling wind. A crow in a tree cawed, shook its wings, and flew off. The others circled me (the cook) for protection. Big Mike warned, “The Lame Old Lady is high level. A fully geared team of a hundred was wiped out here once. Careful.” The temperature dropped. Everyone hugged their arms. “Why is it so cold?” “Where is she? Show yourself!” The rickety wooden door slammed shut behind us. Bang. A rasping, slow voice came from the house: “Kind travelers… can you help me build a fire?” The Lame Old Lady appeared. Her face was drooping, features indistinguishable, covered in black blood. We froze. Suddenly, she raged, her voice piercing: “You won’t even help with a small favor? Then die!” A gale force wind blew. The old lady moved with unnatural speed, growing several times in size. Players hacked at her with axes and knives. Because the commotion attracted nearby players wanting to steal the boss kill, the scene became chaotic. I huddled in a safe corner. I noticed something. The more people attacked her, the stronger she got. Eventually, her voice boomed: “You all deserve to die! Be buried with me!” Screams echoed. Blood stained the ground. Bodies vanished after death, leaving only stains. In the end, only a few people managed to drag me out. Big Mike was heavily injured. He leaned against a tree in our camp, crying. “Honey… I don’t think I can make it back…” Recalling what happened, I had a theory. At midnight, I clutched the amulet. While everyone slept, I snuck back to the Lame Old Lady’s cabin. Here, the sky was permanently stuck in twilight. The old lady was by the well, drawing water. Sensing me, her body didn’t move, but her head spun 180 degrees. She grinned stiffly. “Young one… can you help me carry the water inside? I want to take a bath.”

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It was the ninth year since I’d left my small town behind. I was scrolling through a viral social media post when a comment caught my eye. The tone was smug, dripping with self-satisfaction. “My son was dating an ordinary girl back in the day. I didn’t stop them, just used a little trick to ruin her. He watched his own girlfriend fall apart and broke up with her out of disappointment. Now he’s successful and close to home. I suppose it’s what any great mother would do.” Jimmy Vance’s mother. After all these years, she was still proud of tearing us apart. The post had blown up, flooded with arguments and outrage. But I just turned off my phone, a calm emptiness inside me. It all happened so long ago. Then, I looked up and saw him. In a hospital consultation room, wearing a doctor’s white coat. Jimmy. I froze for a heartbeat. Then, with a heavy limp, I walked into the room and handed him my appointment slip. “Doctor,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m here to schedule an abortion.” 1. He recognized me instantly. Jimmy’s gaze faltered, then dropped to the paper in his hand. “Your health is fragile,” he said, his voice professional but strained. “An abortion could have serious complications. Are you sure about this?” Years had passed, but Jimmy was the same as ever—radiant, seemingly untouched by the world’s harshness. His mother had protected him well, shielding him from any real suffering. The old me would have slapped him across the face, screaming at him for the hypocrisy. I would have told him that what I’d become was all because of him and his mother. But years of torment and medication had blunted my emotions, leaving only a deep, weary numbness. I met his gaze calmly. “Yes. I’d like to schedule the procedure as soon as possible, Dr. Vance. Is that possible?” The earlier, the less damage to my body. I had debts to pay, and I needed to get back to work. Jimmy stood half in shadow, his expression unreadable. “Why? Is your husband not good to you?” I frowned, realizing his assumption. But I didn’t bother to correct him. He was nothing to me now. After this, our paths would never cross again. Seeing my silence, he said no more. After a quick examination, he scheduled the surgery for that same day. The cold needle slid into my arm, and my consciousness began to drift into a hazy fog. Just as the preparations were finishing, a young nurse hurried in and whispered something in Jimmy’s ear. He didn’t hesitate for a second. He turned and left the room. “Dr. Vance is such a good husband,” one of the nurses murmured. “His wife has a little cold and he’s already so worried.” “I know, right?” the other chimed in. “Not like the one on the table. Coming in alone for an abortion, with no one by her side. You know what that means.” My eyelids fluttered, but I couldn’t force them open. I wanted to scream, to defend myself. I wasn’t some slut. I was once the love of Jimmy’s life. It was the summer after sophomore year. I met Jimmy when he was shipped off to our sleepy little town. He was the son from his father’s affair, an outcast. No one wanted anything to do with him. But my parents, bless their bleeding hearts, felt sorry for the lonely boy and always had me bring him food. Maybe it was out of gratitude for their kindness, but Jimmy’s attitude toward me softened, becoming gentle, almost indulgent. He never said no to me. Anything I wanted, he’d move heaven and earth to get it. My friends noticed how close we were getting. “He’s the son of a mistress,” one of them whispered to me. “He’s dirty. You shouldn’t hang out with him.” But it wasn’t his fault he was born that way. My face hardened. “You can’t say that about him. Jimmy is a good person—the kindest person I’ve ever met.” I might have exaggerated a little, trying to defend his name. My friend nudged me, and I turned. Jimmy was standing there, his eyes red and glistening. Suddenly flustered, I ran off. That evening, as I was walking home from school, Jimmy followed me like he always did. But just as we left the school gates, he gently took my hand. “Ava,” he said, his voice soft. “Thank you. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met, too.” My face flushed, but I didn’t pull away. I let our hands stay intertwined, the warmth slowly seeping into my skin. Jimmy and I were together. He promised he would love me forever. We would go to the same college, buy a small apartment, and get two cats. On my eighteenth birthday, Jimmy was late. Alone, I closed my eyes and made that wish. Late that night, I heard the door to the house next door open. “Jimmy, you missed my…” My words died in my throat. Standing behind him was a woman. She smiled warmly and extended a hand. “You must be Ava, right? I’m Jimmy’s mother.” She was gentle, nothing like the wicked woman people made her out to be. She gave me expensive gifts, spoke to me in honeyed tones, and brought me pretty little pastries every day. She even introduced me to her friends. We were in a private room at an upscale club. It was filled with leering, middle-aged men. A knot of fear tightened in my stomach. But Jimmy’s mother firmly pushed me down onto the sofa. “This is my son’s girlfriend, Ava,” she announced to the room. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Every eye in the room landed on me. Their slimy gazes made my skin crawl. “Ma’am, I still have homework to do. I should probably get going.” But one of the men grabbed the hem of my skirt, his hand even starting to creep higher. I shoved him, desperate, and earned a sharp slap across the face. My cheek burned instantly, a ringing sound echoing in my ears. “Don’t play innocent,” he sneered. “You only got with Jimmy for his money, right? Well, I’ve got money too. Why don’t you come with me?” He yanked me up and pulled me onto his lap. “No! Let me go!” I struggled, my eyes frantically searching for Jimmy’s mother. She just sat there, watching with cold indifference. I tried to escape, but I was no match for a grown man’s strength. They held me down, pouring glass after glass of liquor down my throat. The alcohol soaked the front of my shirt, turning the fabric translucent. My head spun. They grabbed my chin, snapping pictures of me. “The little bitch is actually pretty cute. No wonder Jimmy likes her.” Through the haze, I saw the look of disgust in his mother’s eyes. “She’s not good enough for Jimmy,” she said. “He has much better options in his future.” Then she added, “Alright, that’s enough. Stop playing around.” I didn’t understand what she meant, but I felt them arranging my body into a compromising position. The next second, the door flew open. “Ava… what are you doing?” Jimmy stood frozen in the doorway, staring at me—disheveled, sprawled against another man. I couldn’t speak. His mother helped me up. “Jimmy, don’t blame Ava,” she said sweetly. “Girls… they see a man with money and they’re tempted to take shortcuts. But don’t worry, your uncles here are decent men. They knew she was your girlfriend, so they didn’t touch her.” In a few short sentences, she had painted me as a shameless, money-grubbing whore. I choked back a sob. “No, that’s not what happened…” Jimmy didn’t say a word. He walked over to me and roughly wiped the liquor from my lips. I grabbed his hand, trembling. “Jimmy, it’s not like that. I didn’t do anything. Your mom made those men force me to drink. Please, believe me.” His face was shrouded in shadow, his expression impossible to read. “Mom,” he said, his voice tight. “Don’t bring her to places like this again.” He didn’t answer me. He just turned, put me on his back, and carried me out of the room. “Jimmy, it wasn’t what your mom said. She’s trying to break us up.” The night air was cold, making my voice tremble. He was silent for a long time. “Ava,” he finally said. “From what I’ve seen, my mom has been very good to you.” On that long walk home, he didn’t say another word. I knew. He believed her. The next morning, Jimmy didn’t wait for me. I rushed to school, desperate to explain. But when I got there, all my classmates were staring at me with strange expressions. Especially the boys. A thug with bleached-blond hair walked up to me. He hooked a finger under my bra strap and snapped it hard against my skin. “Come back again sometime,” he said with a smirk. “My buddies and I had a great time.” He threw a handful of photos on the ground. They scattered everywhere. The looks from my classmates turned from curiosity to contempt. Jimmy stood silently in the crowd, his eyes a storm of conflicting emotions. Shaking, I grabbed my thermos from my desk and threw it at the thug’s head. “You’re lying! I’m calling the cops!” Blood streamed down his face. His expression turned vicious. “You little bitch,” he snarled. “You were enjoying yourself last night, weren’t you? Put your clothes on and suddenly you don’t know us?” “You’re lying!” I screamed. Just then, Jimmy stepped forward. He grabbed my arm, his grip like steel. “That’s enough!” he hissed. “Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough?” I stared at him, stunned. “He’s the one bullying me! Am I supposed to just let him slander me?” Jimmy’s eyes were dark. “If you hadn’t been so careless with yourself, would they even have a chance to slander you?” I froze. Looking at him, he felt like a stranger. Like I had never known him at all. I slapped him, hard. He turned his head to the side, slowly releasing his grip on my arm. “Ava, are you going to act like a saint after playing the whore? My mom and her friends all said you were the one who came onto them. Are you telling me every single one of them is lying?” His words sealed my fate. I became the class pariah. They called me names, stuffed trash in my desk, and scrawled obscenities on my uniform. I buried myself in my studies, pouring all my energy into getting into a good college. Late at night, I would lie in bed and tell myself it would be okay. Just get to college. Just get away from here. Jimmy’s mother was still as sweet to me as ever, but seeing her filled me with dread. “Ava, why have you been ignoring Jimmy lately? He’s been so heartbroken.” I finally found the courage to look her in the eye. “Ma’am, we’ve already broken up. Please stop targeting me.” A smirk played on her lips. “Your breakup means nothing. Jimmy is still completely devoted to you. But don’t worry. I’ll make him watch you rot, piece by piece. Then, he’ll finally give up on you.” Her threats, combined with the relentless bullying from my classmates, pushed me to the edge of a breakdown. My parents noticed something was wrong and wanted to talk. But before we could, there was a knock on the door. It was Jimmy’s mother, asking to borrow some salt. My dad went to the kitchen. My mom glanced at her phone, handed me my backpack, and pushed me out the door. “You’re going to be late. Go on to school. We’ll talk tonight.” I was on edge all day. After school, I practically ran home. Our house was surrounded by a crowd of people. The unease in my chest exploded into full-blown panic. I shoved my way through the onlookers, my hands trembling. And then I saw it. My father and Jimmy’s mother, tangled together, their clothes in disarray. My dad’s face was ashen, with bright red scratches on his skin. The woman was sobbing pitifully. “How could you do this to me? This is rape! I’m calling the police!” Jimmy threw his school jacket over them, his gaze sweeping over my family with dark contempt. “I thought you were good people,” he spat. “Turns out you’re the most disgusting of all!” My father’s lips trembled. “No… I didn’t do it…” But no one believed him. Not even my mother. She just stood there, humbly apologizing to Jimmy’s mother. The neighbors pointed and whispered. I stood frozen in the crowd, and in that moment, I saw a flicker of triumph in his mother’s eyes. After they left, my mother screamed and hit my father. He kept denying it, but the evidence was overwhelming. It ended with my mother demanding a divorce. I cried, begging her on my father’s behalf. “It has to be Jimmy’s mom! She’s setting him up! Mom, don’t fall for it…” My mother slapped me across the face. “How could I have raised a daughter who can’t tell right from wrong?” The house became a war zone of endless arguments. Jimmy told everyone at school that my father had raped his mother. On top of “whore” and “slut,” I now had a new title: daughter of a rapist. Eventually, the fighting at home subsided. It was as if nothing had ever happened. On the last day of my final exams, my dad gave me a brand-new phone. “Ava,” he said, his voice heavy. “Study hard. Live a good life.” The past few months had left me numb and exhausted, but I managed a small smile. “Thanks, Dad.” I thought they had reconciled. I ignored the deep pain in his eyes. The next day, I went to the exam center. Before I could even walk in, my phone rang. It was our neighbor. “Ava, you have to come home! Your dad jumped off the building, and your mom is trying to kill herself!” My legs gave out from under me. I scrambled home, stumbling and falling. My mom had turned on all the gas stoves in the house and was about to light a match. I screamed, trying to drag her out. But it was too late. The gas exploded. Everything went black. When I woke up, I was in a hospital. My whole body ached, but I couldn’t feel my left arm at all. Our neighbor looked at me with pity in her eyes. “Ava, don’t look. Your arm… it was too badly injured. They had to amputate.” I struggled to sit up. “My parents? Where are they?” She turned away, unable to meet my eyes. But I knew. They were gone. In the end, I had nothing left.

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After finding out my monthly allowance was $70,000, my boyfriend’s childhood sweetheart, Hannah, started copying me. I curled my hair; she permed her stick-straight hair. I got a new manicure; she took a picture of my nails to twenty different salons just to get an exact replica. I wore designer brands; she skipped meals and classes, working five jobs a day, just to buy the same items. I thought she was just a harmless copycat, but a month later, I was suddenly diagnosed with an incurable disease and died rapidly. As I closed my eyes, my family, who once doted on me, didn’t come to see me. Instead, they were stroking my roommate’s head, calling her by my exclusive nickname. I broke down, unable to understand what had happened. After death, my soul lingered and drifted to Hannah’s side. She was living in my room, buried in my boyfriend’s arms, boasting: “Thanks, Liam. If you hadn’t given me the money to copy her, I wouldn’t have been able to use the System to steal her luck and become her. Now, everything she had is mine.” It turned out everything was caused by her System. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Hannah wanted to get the same hairstyle as me. 1 Click. The sound of a shutter accompanied by a flash. Hannah, caught in the act, frantically hid her phone. My best friend, Lily, leaned in and whispered: “Miley, want me to check if she’s secretly taking pictures of you? Lately, I always see her pointing her phone at you like a stalker fan. I can’t take it anymore.” I shook my head, signaling her to let it go. In my past life, I felt violated and demanded to see her photos. But Hannah’s gallery was empty, and I ended up being labeled a bully. Yet by nightfall, her stick-straight black hair was curled exactly like mine. From color to curl pattern, even the length—there wasn’t a single difference. From that day on, based on her silhouette, my friends repeatedly mistook Hannah for me. Thinking of that System, I messaged my personal stylist. “Sis, I’m bored with curls. Design me a new, high-difficulty hairstyle that no one can copy. Do a good job, and I’ll give you a bonus.” Her attitude was enthusiastic; she immediately sent a photo. In the picture, seven or eight stylists were in a meeting, designing my hair. I smiled, turned off my screen, and turned to Lily: “Let’s go get our hair done later. Call Wendy, it’s my treat.” “Sure, but we don’t want to take advantage of you. Let Wendy and me treat you to dinner later.” Before I could speak, Hannah’s shrill voice rang out from behind. “Where are you guys going to eat? Why didn’t you invite me? I’m your roommate, why are you isolating me? Miley, do you look down on me?” Her voice was too loud, attracting the attention of the entire class. Feeling everyone’s gaze, Hannah switched to a victimized look, pitifully saying: “I know you guys come from well-off families and are locals, looking down on someone from a small town like me. But I really want to have a good relationship with you guys and be friends.” Her idea of “being friends” and “having a good relationship” meant every time we went out to eat, she’d use her lack of money as an excuse to dodge the bill. If we pressed her, she’d use her background as an excuse, saying how pitiful she was and how little money she had. After a few times, we just didn’t want to hang out with her anymore. Just as I was about to pull out evidence to retort, my boyfriend and class monitor, Liam, charged out like a knight in shining armor: “Miley, didn’t I tell you? I don’t like bossy girls. Can you stop bullying people just because your family has some stinking money!” “Although Hannah’s family is worse off than yours, she’s more outstanding than you people born with silver spoons. She came from a small town to study at the same university as you, don’t you see how much effort she put in…” Hearing him constantly refer to my “stinking money” and seeing him defend Hannah so fiercely. I felt a wave of nausea. If my family hadn’t sponsored him, he’d still be in that remote village, working in a factory screwing bolts. If I hadn’t asked my parents to increase his allowance and constantly bought him high-end goods, how could he maintain his image of a well-off guy? But Liam wasn’t grateful. Instead, he despised the smell of my money, yet used it to help Hannah, knowing full well about her plan to replace me. Thinking of how disgusting he looked holding Hannah in my past life, I immediately messaged my parents. From now on, the group would stop sponsoring Liam. Let him and Hannah work part-time together as a struggling couple. 2 Seeing me still on my phone, Liam got even angrier: “Miley Qin, do you not think you did anything wrong?” “I, Liam, cannot accept such an unreasonable and bossy girlfriend. If you know you’re wrong, apologize to Hannah immediately and compensate her, or else I…” “Or else what?” Liam thought I was scared and raised his voice. “If you don’t apologize, I’m breaking up with you!” In the past, hearing “break up” would make me obey him immediately. After all, he saved me from thugs two years ago, and I was obedient out of gratitude. But after experiencing a bizarre death, I was no longer the girl who only saw romance. “Then let’s break up.” I blurted it out, shifting my gaze from the phone screen to his face: “However, breaking up is one thing. Since you say I use money to pressure people, you must look down on my money. So, the $300,000 you spent over these years, transfer it back to me now.” He was nervous when I agreed to break up, but hearing me ask for money, he suddenly relaxed, assuming I was just throwing a tantrum and playing hard to get. Because I was the most generous with money towards him and would never ask for it back. He pretended to be magnanimous: “Fine, take it. I don’t need your money.” Hannah wasn’t happy hearing this; she still needed money to copy me. “No! Liam, you can’t give the money. Who returns money after a breakup!” “Besides, didn’t you spend money on her during the relationship? Maybe you spent more. She asks for $300,000, you should calculate too, don’t let her take advantage.” Liam knew exactly how much he spent on me. He felt guilty but still pretended to be generous: “It’s okay, Hannah. Since Miley was my girlfriend, I’ll give it to her if she wants it.” While speaking, he winked at me, signaling me not to expose him and to stop while I was ahead. Before, considering his pride, I would have endured it. But now, I pulled up the list of gifts he gave me on my phone: “May 2023, when we started, you gave me a single rose. August, silver earrings. October, a ceramic bowl. This is the total cost of our three-year relationship. I wonder if these things are worth even $50…” I looked up at him again: “Student Liam, do you need me to read out how you spent my money in front of the class? Or do you want me to forward the bills to the class group chat?” Liam froze for a moment, observing my expression. He realized I was serious, but he still refused to apologize to me in front of everyone. His face turned cold, gritting his teeth: “Isn’t it just $300,000? I’ll transfer it.” He took out his phone, tapping furiously on the screen. “I transferred the money. Don’t come looking for me again!” He said that, but I didn’t receive any notification. Hannah didn’t know he was faking it. Thinking the money was sent, she snatched his phone trying to recall it. But after searching for a while, she didn’t see any transaction record. Confused, she said: “Liam, I don’t see the transfer record. Which bank did you use? Tell me quickly, I’ll recall it.” Hearing this, I almost laughed out loud. Liam’s face turned red. He shouted “shut up” at her and tried to drag her away. I blocked their path: “Liam, if you’re going to transfer, do it properly. Why pretend? I didn’t receive a dime. Playing games with me? You despise my money but enjoy eating soft rice?” Afraid people wouldn’t believe me, I held up my phone, showing various payment pages. Liam didn’t expect me not to give him any face and expose him like this. “Must be the network. The money hasn’t arrived yet! I’ll transfer again.” This time, the voice notification for $300,000 rang out. Liam looked incredibly pained but still postured: “See? I don’t care about your money at all!” I nodded, smiling contentedly at my balance. “Great. Money received, breakup done. We have nothing to do with each other now.” Saying that, I tried to pull Lily away. But he grabbed my hand: “You haven’t apologized to Hannah for isolating her! You can’t leave!” His words reminded me. I hadn’t thrown the mud Hannah flung at me back yet. Thanks to frequenting my family’s restaurant private rooms, I had surveillance footage. I called the restaurant staff and then sent the video of our four-person meals to the class group chat. “Why we don’t hang out with her? See for yourselves in the group chat video.” 3 Saying that, I dragged my roommates away first. By the time we reached the salon, the group chat had exploded. [OMG, how can someone be so self-righteous about being broke? Isn’t this just freeloading?] [Forget Miley and the others, if I met her, I’d hide far away.] Seeing the comments getting harsher, Hannah sent crying emojis, claiming I had a vendetta against her and the video was fabricated. But people aren’t fools; no one believed her. Humiliated, she frantically messaged me demanding a clarification. Seeing this, Liam also sent me a string of messages. [Miley Qin, I’m so disappointed in you. Just a small conflict between you two, is it necessary to slander Hannah like this?] [You hurt her. You need to apologize, return the $300,000, and transfer another $100,000 as compensation. Otherwise, I will never forgive you and never get back together with you.] This righteous demand for money made me laugh. Really treating me like an ATM? Stimulated by this, I suddenly remembered something. In my past life, Hannah changed hairstyles, bought luxury goods, and got manicures. When asked how she had so much money, she claimed she earned it from part-time jobs. Even I believed it until I died, until I heard her conversation with Liam. I realized she mocked me for being born with a silver spoon while guiltlessly sucking my blood. My mood ruined, I replied with “F*ck off.” Just as I was about to block him, a payment notification popped up from “Intimate Pay.” It was a hair salon bill. I trembled with rage, scrolling through past bills. Dresses, women’s underwear, condoms… everything. The earliest one dated back to March of the year before last. So they had been cheating on me this early. I didn’t hold back, directly @Liam in the class group. [Nice one, Liam. Using my Intimate Pay to keep your mistress?] Before he could reply, I @Hannah. [Feels good spending my money, huh? Scumbag and btch, a perfect match.]* I unlinked Intimate Pay. Afraid they’d take advantage, I called every place where I had membership cards. No one but me could use them. On the other side, just after paying for Hannah’s perm, Liam suddenly found Intimate Pay unusable. Thinking the app crashed, he restarted it several times. The staff thought he was trying to dine and dash, staring at him. Hannah felt embarrassed and urged him: “Liam, pay quickly. I’ll reward you properly later.” Helpless, Liam opened his own payment code, using his meager funds. When the $2,500 notification sounded, he couldn’t help but scream: “Why so expensive? It’s just hair! Hannah, did you get scammed?” The staff rolled their eyes and muttered: “We are a luxury salon. $4,000 total is expensive? Don’t do it if you can’t afford it.” Feeling humiliated, Liam’s face flushed. Then, seeing the 99+ messages in the group chat, he almost fainted from anger. He wanted to vent his rage on me, but couldn’t get through. I was blissfully unaware, immersed in getting my hair done. Six hours later, I rocked a Hime cut, Lily went blonde, and Wendy got big waves. Satisfied, I wanted to post on Moments. But thinking about being stalked, I gave up. Just thinking about Hannah’s face tomorrow made me happy. 4 Before class the next day, I heard someone calling my name in the hallway. I followed the voice and saw the class rep mistaking Hannah’s back for mine because of the curls. Hannah turned around, smiling shyly: “Oh, Class Rep, I’m not Miley. Do we look too alike? A lot of people mistook me today.” My eyes turned cold. I strode forward and interrupted: “Where do we look alike? Hannah, my skin isn’t as dark as yours, I’m not as short, and my eyes aren’t as small. Don’t lie through your teeth.” Recovering, the Class Rep saw my new hairstyle and agreed: “Yeah, you and Miley don’t look alike at all. I just mistook the curly hair.” She linked arms with me affectionately: “But your new style is so beautiful, even better than before. I won’t mistake you again.” Other friends chimed in: “Yeah, so beautiful. Thought big waves suited you, but this Hime cut is even better.” “Right, this hairstyle is so unique, obviously custom designed. If someone tries to copy it again, it’ll just be a cheap knockoff.” Hearing this, Hannah turned red with anger and stomped her foot: “What do you mean? Think I want to copy her? Think I want to look like her? What’s worth copying about a rich second generation like her!” After speaking, her jealous gaze fell on my hair: “Ugly, so ugly. Who told you to get a Hime cut? Doesn’t suit you at all.” Seeing her like this, instead of getting angry, I stroked my hair and smiled: “Is that so? As long as I like it.” I bumped past her, but Hannah chased and blocked me: “But Liam won’t like it! He prefers how you looked before.” Afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she dragged Liam over. “Right, Liam? You think so too, right?” Liam looked at me, ears burning red, stuttering like he had a stroke, unable to speak. Hannah burst into tears out of frustration, pushed me, and ran into the classroom. “Sick. Go see a doctor if you’re sick.” I cursed at her and pushed back. During the break, Wendy came back from the bathroom and whispered to me: “I just heard Hannah on the phone. She booked a manicure for this afternoon. And guess what? The picture she showed was the one you posted two days ago. If I hadn’t accidentally bumped into her phone, I wouldn’t have known she was stalking your social media.” This reminded me. I found Hannah’s profile to block her. But a fun idea popped into my head, so I changed my mind. “Great. I’m bored with this nail style anyway. Shall we change it later?”

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During a class reunion, a voice suddenly echoed in my mind: “Welcome to Alice’s Castle.” “Only by successfully wooing the Red Queen can you survive.” In the blink of an eye, the surroundings shifted. The Red Queen was scouring the city for the person who stole her tarts, and the sketch of the suspect looked exactly like us. As more and more Card Soldiers gathered, the voice returned: “Those wearing red can escape suspicion.” The next second, everyone scrambled to find red paint. 1 Penny, our class president and the girl who always seemed to have the devil’s own luck, was the first to find a bucket of red paint. She dragged it over to us. “Quick! Find brushes! There’s not enough paint to go around if we don’t use brushes!” “Paint your clothes red, and we might just survive this!” Everyone got the message. But before we could even take a few steps, dozens of Card Soldiers and a massive hound found our hiding spot. The hound spoke, its voice deep and guttural. “Take them all to the castle. Her Majesty said dead or alive.” It seemed to sense our urge to run. “If anyone disobeys, bring back their corpses.” We exchanged terrified glances. We all knew the Red Queen’s temper. Going to the castle like this meant risking decapitation before we even started the mission. Painting ourselves red was the priority. Just as the thought crossed my mind, Bella, the class beauty, lifted the heavy paint bucket. Pinching her nose, she dumped the contents over her head. She was drenched in red instantly, coughing and sputtering. “Cough… cough… this isn’t paint! It’s blood! It’s blood!” So that explained the metallic stench. Penny rushed over to confront Bella for wasting the “paint,” but the Card Soldiers pinned her down and shackled her. I signaled Penny not to resist. She sighed, defeated. We were all marched to the castle. The moment the Red Queen saw us, she roared, “Speak! Who stole my tarts?!” Bella, covered head to toe in blood, stepped forward. “Your Majesty, it wasn’t me. You’ve misunderstood.” “I love the color red too. If it pleases you, I’d like to stay in the palace and paint your white roses red.” The Red Queen looked Bella up and down. “Hmm. Card Soldiers, unchain her.” “And bring me my paint bucket.” We all looked at Bella with envy. The system wasn’t lying. Wearing red really did clear suspicion. If she could stay here, she’d have plenty of chances to complete the wooing mission. Bella turned to us, a smug look on her face. The paint bucket was placed in front of her. She picked it up, ready to leave. “Thank you for your kindness, Your Majesty.” But as she passed me, I realized something was wrong. The bucket was empty. Why would she send her to paint roses with an empty bucket? Before I could warn her, the Red Queen stopped Bella. A shrill scream made me shudder. “You dare steal my paint! A mere commoner! Daring to like the same color as me!” Bella froze, kneeling to beg for mercy. But it was too late. The Red Queen sat on her throne, voice calm. “Off with her head.” Bella was bled dry right in front of us. Her blood filled the paint bucket. A chill ran down my spine. Did the system give us a false hint to mess with us? 2 I swallowed hard and looked around at my classmates. Some were paralyzed with fear; a few had even wet themselves. But the bolder ones were whispering: “What do we do? If the system lies, how are we supposed to survive?” “Who the hell drew our portraits?” “Shh, keep it down. From the Queen’s question, she doesn’t actually know who ate the tarts.” “So, if we push someone forward as a scapegoat, can we save ourselves?” … The Queen’s voice boomed again: “Who stole my tarts!” “If no one clears their suspicion, you’ll all become red paint for my white roses!” I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth. To survive, I had to pretend I didn’t hear my classmates’ plotting. Sure enough, someone stood up abruptly. “Your Majesty, I know who ate the tarts.” His gaze landed on a corner. I followed his line of sight. It was Sarah. She was often bullied by the guys in class because of a large black birthmark on her face and neck. My heart pounded. The Red Queen waved her hand, and Sarah was dragged to the front. She was sobbing with fear. “Your… Your Majesty, I’m innocent!” “I didn’t eat your tarts, please spare me.” “I wouldn’t dare, Your Majesty!” The Red Queen pointed a finger lazily. The guy who accused Sarah was immediately dragged away. His fate was the same as Bella’s. I broke out in a cold sweat. What was going on? Why did the accuser die? I watched the Red Queen nervously, only to see her order Sarah’s release. “Hmm, I like ugly people. I hate liars.” Sarah was saved by her “flaw.” Not only did she clear her name, but she also got to stay. I realized the system’s hint was correct. Bella died because she lied. She didn’t like red; she just said it to curry favor. Then I realized Sarah wasn’t wearing red. Did that mean there was another way to survive? Honesty. “And you? Did you steal my tarts?” “Hmph, guilty silence! “Guards! Off with their heads!” Her words snapped me back to reality. As the Card Soldiers advanced, our Class Monitor slammed his head on the floor before I could. “Your Majesty, I’ve never even entered your castle before! I swear I didn’t eat them!” I followed suit instantly, tears streaming down my face. “I swear on my family’s life, I didn’t eat them!” Everyone caught on and started swearing their innocence. Just when we thought we were safe. The Red Queen stood up abruptly. “I like your honesty, but I hate your faces!” “My patience has run out!” “Off with their heads!” 3 My eyes widened. So looks mattered too! The castle erupted into chaos. Waiting for death now would be idiotic! The system’s voice chimed in: [The White Rabbit often lends a helping hand.] I looked around frantically. Everyone was scrambling out of the main hall. Several Card Soldiers were chasing me. I sprinted through corridors and rooms. I couldn’t stop. The thought of their spears piercing me was enough to keep my legs moving! “Mr. White Rabbit! Mr. White Rabbit, where are you?” I whispered as I ran. Suddenly, someone pulled me into a room around a corner. It was Penny. She pointed to the floor. “You really are lucky! You found the White Rabbit!” I gasped. The White Rabbit bowed to us. “Oh my, how may I help you?” Penny said anxiously, “See? He says he’ll help, but we have to choose how. I asked him to take me out of the castle, but he said he couldn’t.” The footsteps outside were getting louder and closer. I asked quickly, “Is there any way to clear us of suspicion?” The Rabbit replied, “I cannot.” How the hell were we supposed to use him? Penny and I paced the room. A familiar voice boomed outside the door. “They’re in here! Break it down! Seize them!” It was the hound. The door shook under heavy blows. Just as it was about to give way, I saw the Monitor running into the garden outside the window. His head had swollen to a massive size. It clicked. The cakes! “Mr. White Rabbit, do you have the cakes that make you grow?” The Rabbit produced a cake and vanished. Penny and I split it. Instantly, we started to grow. The Red Queen spotted us. She ordered the soldiers to stop. Her rage turned into a smile. “So you’re Big-Headed Dolls too! I love it! Stay in the castle and work for me.” “I need Big-Headed Dolls for my amusement.” Turns out there was more than one White Rabbit. Around thirty of us had survived. Finally, a moment to breathe. Night fell quickly, and the Red Queen sent us to rest. But as I tried to sleep, I felt eyes on me. I opened my eyes a sliver and saw a grotesque face grinning at me. 4 I lay there, paralyzed with fear. Who was staring at me? I closed my eyes again and pretended to turn over. [The Mad Hatter has gone mad. He sews hats onto people’s heads at night.] The system’s message jolted my brain awake. I felt someone trying different hats on my head. This world was full of traps. If he sewed a hat onto my head… Calm down. I forced myself to stop imagining the worst. I turned over again. The Mad Hatter was still there. I took a deep breath and peeked again. Something was wrong with him. The hat on his own head was missing. But I couldn’t find it in the dark. “This hat suits you.” “Best to sew it on.” The Mad Hatter spoke suddenly. I sat up in terror. I turned on the light, but it was Penny I saw. Looking around, the Mad Hatter was gone. I patted my chest, letting out a breath. Penny, seeing my pale face, squeezed into my bed. “I heard the system voice and got scared, so I came to find you.” “Why was your door open?” “Did you meet the Mad Hatter?” I didn’t want to scare her, so I shook my head. We slept together, terrified. Thankfully, the Mad Hatter didn’t return. The next morning, the survivors discussed strategy while painting white roses. “So how do we woo the Red Queen? She’s so moody; she might chop our heads off on a whim.” “Does playing ugly work? Sarah is her favorite now. Her progress must be higher than ours.” “Shh, she’s coming.” We bowed to the Red Queen. She looked at our oversized heads with satisfaction. “Hmm, go to the kitchen and get some tarts.” “Follow the soldiers and help me feed my new pet.” Eager to gain favor and progress, we rushed to obey. Each holding a large tray of tarts, we followed the Card Soldiers. The path grew darker and gloomier. At the end was a small dungeon cell. The soldiers opened the door. Penny went in first, and I followed. But before I could enter, screams erupted from inside. I ran forward. Inside, tarts were scattered everywhere, surrounding a grotesquely obese White Queen.

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Three years of marriage to Harvey Wen, and we were still as polite as strangers. He was gentle and considerate, always showering me with gifts and money, a man who never seemed to get angry. Until he suddenly reverted to his eighteen-year-old self. He demanded a divorce, threatening to jump off a building if I didn’t agree. I reluctantly gave in. In his glee, he ran off to an all-night internet cafe, dyed his hair blond, and adorned his ears with half a dozen piercings. He even slapped temporary tattoos of dragons and tigers on his arms. It was only then that I realized the old Harvey had been a bit of a punk. On the day we were supposed to finalize the divorce, a man who looked exactly like Harvey appeared in our home. The adult version was back. I looked from the big one to the small one, a long-forgotten silence falling over me. So… are we getting this divorce or not? 1. What do you do when your gentle, wealthy husband suddenly turns eighteen and becomes a raging rebel? I stood in the middle of our living room, completely at a loss, staring at the hostile boy who was supposed to be Harvey. He was holding a kitchen knife, his face a mask of panic. “There’s no way I’m married! Especially not to someone like you!” A bitter taste filled my mouth. “Harvey… honey, could you please put the knife down?” “No way! You’ll just try to hug me and kiss me again, you pervert!” I flushed with embarrassment. A few moments ago, I’d just stepped out of the shower, barely dressed, and had wrapped my arms around him from behind, planting a kiss on his neck. His reaction was explosive. A deep blush had spread from his cheeks all the way down his neck as he’d screamed, calling me a seductress. When I’d tried to explain that I was his wife, he’d been stunned into disbelief. I’d moved closer to figure out what was going on, and he’d grabbed the fruit knife, holding it out as if I were about to defile him. “Harvey, I won’t kiss you,” I said, trying to sound calm. “Don’t you want to know why you’ve time-traveled ten years into the future?” He frowned, but his guard didn’t drop. He finally lowered the knife, his eyes averted. “Just… don’t walk around dressed like that in front of me. I’m not your husband.” I glanced down at myself. I was wearing a perfectly normal lace slip dress. A little form-fitting, perhaps, and the neckline was admittedly eye-catching. The twenty-eight-year-old Harvey always lost control when I wore it. It was one of the few times he ever showed any real passion. Today was supposed to be one of those nights, which was why I’d been so forward. I quickly grabbed a robe. This younger Harvey obviously wasn’t ready for that kind of fun. The atmosphere was thick with awkwardness. His frustration was a palpable force in the room. “You stay here,” he finally said. “We’re getting a divorce tomorrow.” “No,” I replied without thinking. Harvey and I had met on a blind date. While there wasn’t much passion, our three years of marriage had been respectful and calm. Besides, ours was a business alliance. This marriage was about more than just the two of us; it was about two corporations. But the boy in front of me couldn’t possibly understand that. And even if he could, he wouldn’t care. “Woman! I don’t care what you’re scheming, we’re getting a divorce!” he declared. “My life is the untamed wilderness! It cannot be chained! I want freedom!” I stared at him, bewildered. “What are you talking about?” “My dad set this up, didn’t he?” he demanded. “That old bastard loves to control my life.” “No, it was your mom.” It had been his mother who had approached my family about the match. He snorted. “I knew it!” He stormed into the walk-in closet and started rummaging through the clothes, his face wrinkling in disgust at the racks of black, white, and gray suits. “What is this trash? Don’t tell me you bought this for me.” “You bought it yourself,” I said, exasperated. He muttered under his breath, “My taste can’t be this bad.” 2. He finally settled on a pink button-down shirt—one I had bought for him, which had hung unworn in his closet ever since. I was surprised to find it appealed to his younger self’s aesthetic. After changing, he made a beeline for the door. I blocked his path. “Where are you going? It’s late.” He scowled. “Woman, mind your own business.” “You have an important meeting tomorrow. You need to get some rest.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, his face flushing. “What are you doing so close to me?” I dropped my hand, sighing. “You really can’t go.” I didn’t know how long this would last, but his company couldn’t afford any disruptions. He brushed off his shoulder as if my touch had contaminated him. “You’re so annoying! I’m not your husband, why do you get to tell me what to do? I don’t care if the company goes bankrupt.” He puffed out his chest. “You have to divorce me! And don’t try any tricks. I have someone I like, and she’s not a shameless flirt like you.” “I’m sorry, but that’s not your decision to make,” I said, my face a blank mask, though I could feel a slow burn of anger rising within me. Even a saint would lose their temper after being treated like this. I knew he was just a kid, not the gentle, considerate man I was used to, but still. That’s when he picked up the knife again and held it to his crotch. “If you don’t agree to a divorce, I’ll castrate myself! You’ll be a widow for the rest of your life!” I was speechless. Honestly, it wasn’t much of a threat. “Oh,” I said with a shrug. “Go ahead.” He gasped, looking at me with disbelief. “You’re completely shameless! You’d do anything to be with me.” I really wanted to know what was going on in that teenage brain of his. He threw the knife down. Just when I thought he’d given up, he bolted for the balcony, hoisted himself up, and sat on the railing. “What are you doing?” His body teetered precariously. “If you don’t agree to a divorce, I’ll jump!” he shrieked. His self-mutilation, I could ignore. His life, I could not. I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Fine,” I sighed. “I agree.” Maybe the real Harvey had always hated this marriage. He was always kind to me, but it was a polite, distant kindness. A performance of a husband’s duty. The eighteen-year-old could at least voice his own desires. The twenty-eight-year-old couldn’t. He would accept things he clearly disliked with a placid smile. Hearing my agreement, he leaped down from the railing, nearly twisting his ankle. “I’m going to the internet cafe,” he announced triumphantly. “Don’t tell my dad.” The door slammed shut behind him. I stood there for a long time before slowly crawling into bed. I had just laid down when his mother called. “Elara, is Harvey there? I’ve been calling him, but he’s not picking up.” “Uh, he had to step out for something,” I lied automatically. “Your grandmother’s birthday is the day after tomorrow. She wants to celebrate at the Ocean Palace. Can you ask Harvey if that’s alright?” “Of course.” We chatted for a few more minutes before hanging up. Harvey’s grandmother, despite her age, had always been a trendsetter. The Ocean Palace was an aquarium Harvey had opened for me, a tribute to how we first met. On our blind date, we had no idea what to do, so we went fishing. We spent the entire day without a single bite, returning empty-handed with our buckets and rods. We didn’t say a word to each other the entire way back. After we got together, he opened the aquarium. So I could fish to my heart’s content, he’d said. 3. Harvey didn’t come home all night. His assistant called me in a panic. “Mrs. Wen, do you know where Mr. Wen is? I can’t find him, and the board meeting is about to start.” I had sent Harvey a dozen texts, with no reply. I took a deep breath. “I’ll handle it. You all just wait for my signal.” The day was a blur of meetings and damage control. Still no word from Harvey. Frustrated, I dropped my briefcase and started searching the internet cafes in our neighborhood, going from one to the next. I never thought I’d be playing the role of a worried mother so soon into my marriage. When I finally found him, I almost didn’t recognize him. His hair was bleached a shocking yellow, a silver chain hanging around his neck. His exposed arms were covered in tattoos. My heart leaped into my throat, terrified he had actually gotten inked. But then I realized there was no way he could have gotten that much work done so quickly. They had to be temporary. He was glued to the screen, mouse clicking furiously. I recognized the game—he was playing a first-person shooter. I reached over and pulled off his headphones. He whipped his head around, his face a mask of annoyance. “What the hell? Why did you follow me here?” Everyone in the vicinity turned to stare. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?” I asked, my voice cold. “Why should I? You’re not still trying to get back with me, are you? Because it’s not happening. I’m not him. I’m never getting married. I don’t believe in it.” His words struck me. I remembered that before me, Harvey had never been in a serious relationship, aside from a laughable middle school “romance.” But hadn’t he just told me yesterday that he had someone he liked? “Come home with me. We need to talk about a few things concerning your career.” This wasn’t working. His lack of cooperation was becoming a serious problem. His rebellious streak flared. “No way. I’m not going. What are you gonna do, hit me?” So I slapped him across the face. Before he could react, I grabbed his ear and twisted. He yelped in pain. “You crazy woman! You witch!” I was usually so calm, so composed. But I had reached my breaking point. I treated him like I would my younger brother. I kicked him in the ass, and he went sprawling to the floor. His insults quickly turned to pleas for mercy. “Grandma! This is domestic abuse!” he wailed, then added a pathetic threat. “If I wasn’t against hitting women, I would have beaten you to a pulp by now!” I slapped him again. He clutched his face, stunned. “How did I end up with such a violent wife?” The cafe owner came over to intervene. “Hey, ma’am, take it easy. It’s normal for kids to want to play games.” “I’m not his mother,” I said calmly. “I’m his wife.” The owner looked from me to Harvey, then whispered, “Ah, a sugar mama, huh?” Harvey overheard. “Who are you calling a sugar baby?!” he shrieked. “Your whole family are sugar babies!” Despite his ridiculous getup, he was still handsome. He couldn’t win a fight against me, so he started arguing with the owner instead. “Open your eyes! Do I look like I need her money? Do I look poor to you? You don’t think we’re a good match?” I grabbed his arm and dragged him out of there, dying of embarrassment. Once outside, he shoved me away. “Get off me! You’re so annoying!” He was like a bantam rooster—all squawk and no bite. “Don’t you want to get a divorce? Let’s go home and discuss the terms.” He frowned. “What’s there to discuss? We just sign the papers.” “If you want to walk away with nothing, not a single penny, then sure.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Fine. I’ll go back with you.” He wasn’t about to be called a kept man. 4. On the way home, I couldn’t help but lecture him. “You need to come up with a plan. Tell everyone you have amnesia. Your assistant will help you with work. And stay out of the internet cafes.” I glanced at the fake tattoos on his arm, a headache starting to form. “I don’t want to,” he said stubbornly. “…” I took a deep breath. This kid was a walking rebellion. “Do you have any idea how much the twenty-eight-year-old you has sacrificed for his career?” “What’s that got to do with me?” he said, unconcerned. “I’m not him. Stop using me as his replacement. I am who I am, a different kind of firework.” His cheesy line made my toes curl. This was going to be impossible. The twenty-eight-year-old Harvey was obedient to a fault; the eighteen-year-old was his polar opposite. How could ten years make such a difference? When we got home, I parked the car. He stormed off without a second glance, not even waiting for me. I trailed behind him, but then he suddenly slowed down, and I easily caught up. He glanced at my high heels. “You walk so slow.” “…” Patience, I told myself. He’s just a child. “So, how are we splitting the assets?” he asked. “I’m so awesome, I must have a lot of money, right?” He was in for a rude awakening. How much he got depended entirely on how generous I was feeling. If I wanted to be cruel, he’d get nothing. Our prenuptial agreement stated that in the event of a divorce, he would leave with nothing. That was the clause that had won over my parents, convincing them to entrust their daughter to him. As we reached the door, he poked my shoulder. “Hello? Are you going to answer me? How much do I get?” The next second, the door swung open from the inside. The housekeeper had been on leave for a month. There was no one home. My heart started to pound. I looked up and met a pair of familiar eyes. My jaw dropped. I looked back at the younger Harvey. He was now staring, wide-eyed, at the older one. The air grew cold. The younger Harvey tensed, his expression guarded. I was the first to speak. “Honey, you’re back?” The younger one snapped, “Who are you calling honey? I’m not your husband.” The older one’s lips curved into a thin smile, his gaze shifting from the boy to me. “She was talking to me. And this is my house. It’s perfectly normal for me to be here.” I felt another wave of awkwardness. “Let’s just… go inside,” I said, trying to sound casual. Once inside, the question returned, more pressing than ever. Are we getting this divorce or not? I looked from my young husband to my old one, and back again.

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My arranged fiancé is the most notorious playboy in the city’s elite circle. He’s told me multiple times, “I’m not done having fun. There’s no way I’m going through with this engagement.” “Give up.” He refused to meet me, didn’t even know what I looked like. That is, until I went to find him to call it off. But the moment he saw me, he froze, turning to his friend and saying: “Bro, I think I’m about to have a wife.” I handed the engagement ring back to him. “No, you’re about to lose one.” 1 After messaging Julian countless times with zero response, I decided to track him down. His schedule was easy to find—if he wasn’t at a club, he was at a karaoke bar or some other party spot. Sure enough, I heard he’d be at The Velvet Room tonight. I hate clubs, but I gritted my teeth and went. I’ve been a “good girl” my whole life—quiet, introverted. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d been to a place like this. Before walking in, I hyped myself up. I found a seat at the bar, ordered a virgin mojito, and casually scanned the room for Julian. He wasn’t there yet. He’s always the center of attention; if he were here, it would feel like a spotlight was shining on him. Since I couldn’t find him, I opened our chat history. My last message was from yesterday: [It’s really hot lately, remember sunscreen.] No reply. Scrolling up, it was just me talking to myself: [The sunset is beautiful today.] [I heard the zoo has capybaras now, they’re so cute. Want to go?] [A new restaurant opened, the food looks amazing.] [Okay, guess you’re busy. Goodnight.] [My mom took me ring shopping today. I picked one for ages. Do you like it?] Julian only replied when I mentioned the engagement, and it was never nice: [Wendy, stop embarrassing yourself.] [I told you, I don’t want this engagement.] [I’m not done playing. I’m not settling down.] I pretended not to see those messages. It’s not that I wasn’t hurt. I just felt like we deserved better than this. He hadn’t even met me, hadn’t spent a second with me. Every time I asked to meet and talk properly, he refused, saying, “No need.” He didn’t care what I looked like. He just didn’t want to marry me. 2 Julian said he wasn’t done playing the field and didn’t want to be tied down. I understood that. That’s why I wanted a chance—just one chance to hang out. I hadn’t dared to find him before because, one, I’m shy, and two, I was scared he’d hate me for it. So coming here tonight took everything I had. The club was loud and dark. I endured the discomfort, waiting for Julian. Suddenly, a commotion near the entrance. I looked over and there he was. Simple dress shirt, top buttons undone, leaning lazily back into a booth. Surrounded by gorgeous girls smiling at him. Seeing him, I hesitated. Someone like Julian really doesn’t seem like the marrying type. Rich kid, spoiled from birth, a master of the nightlife. He walked through a garden of flowers but never picked a single leaf. I started doubting myself. Was my persistence meaningless? Even though I came here to find him, seeing him in his element made me want to shrink away. I decided to watch for a bit before making a move. I wasn’t far from his table, but the corner was dark and my hat was pulled low, so I felt hidden. Halfway through my drink, amidst the thumping bass, I heard my name. Someone mentioned me: “Hey, Julian, what’s up with the engagement? Still happening?” Julian frowned. “Don’t ask. I don’t know what potion she fed my parents, but they won’t let me call it off.” “I think your parents have good taste!” someone piped up. “I think Wendy is really pretty! Why don’t you just meet her?” Before Julian could speak, someone else cut in: “Oh please, pretty is useless! Look at all the girls chasing Julian over the years—gorgeous, perfect, and he rejected every single one. He’s picky.” “Yeah, who knows who can finally tame him.” Julian scoffed. “Nobody can. Forget it. I’m used to freedom; I can’t stand being tied down.” “Alright then. Let me know when you break it off, I’ll ask my mom to propose for me. I actually like Wendy.” “Sure,” Julian said, taking a sip of his drink, completely indifferent. “I’ll let you know.” His tone was casual, as if I were a toy he could just pass along. My heart felt like it was being squeezed. I couldn’t stay any longer. Using the crowd as cover, I ran out of the club. I found a bench in a nearby park, tears streaming down my face as I opened our chat. I had once texted him: [Can we meet and talk, please?] He replied: [Unless it’s to call off the engagement, no.] I wiped my blurry screen and typed again: [Are you free next week? Can we talk?] After a while, he replied: [Didn’t I tell you? Unless it’s to call off the engagement, no.] I sniffled, finally making up my mind. [Yeah. It’s to call off the engagement.] 3 I never expected that the first time I successfully asked Julian out would be to break up. When my mom told me the Thorne family asked about the engagement, I was so happy I couldn’t sleep. I thought he agreed to it. Later, I found out his parents set it up without asking him. So I accepted his resistance. It wasn’t his fault. I wanted him to give me a chance, but I forgot—with so many better options around him, why would he choose me? He didn’t want the engagement, didn’t want to see me. That’s fair. It’s just that this one-sided emotional drain was exhausting. He did nothing wrong. Maybe we just weren’t meant to be. I didn’t want to keep pushing. I’ve liked him for so long, it’s time to move on. We agreed to meet next week at a new coffee shop. The weather had been perfect all week, but on the day of, it started pouring. Although the rain stopped, puddles were everywhere. I set the GPS wrong and ended up near the shop but not at it. The driver didn’t know where to go, so I got out to walk the rest of the way. Just as I was getting close, a supercar zoomed past me, splashing through a massive puddle. I was soaked in muddy water. I looked down at the stains on my white dress and sighed. I wore my favorite dress for this. Even if it was the end, I wanted to end it looking good. Who knew… I took out a tissue, bent down, and started wiping the mud, thinking: Guess we really aren’t meant to be. Suddenly, someone stopped in front of me. “Sorry, my friend wasn’t looking. He splashed you.” Hearing that lazy voice, I froze. I didn’t dare stand up. He continued, “He’s parking. I’ll make him pay for your dress.” My hand clutching the tissue was sweating. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Seeing me frozen and weird, he asked, “You okay?” I took three deep breaths before slowly straightening up. Seeing his face, I thought: Of course it’s him. So, looking like a drowned rat, I met Julian Thorne. Still that dangerously handsome face, tall build blocking my view, forcing me to only see him. But Julian seemed to freeze too. He stopped talking, his gaze burning as it met mine. I held his gaze for less than ten seconds before losing my nerve and looking away. But I could still feel his eyes on me. The atmosphere got weirdly awkward. I wondered: Did he recognize me? Then he asked, word by word: “Can I get your number?” I was silent. He definitely didn’t recognize me. He explained, “To pay you for the dress.” I shook my head. “No need.” I didn’t want to keep standing there, so I turned to enter the coffee shop. But Julian grabbed my arm. I looked back at him in surprise. He seemed shocked by his own action too, quickly letting go and pulling out his phone. “Just add me.” I didn’t know how to tell him he was already in my contacts. “Holy sh*t, Julian, what are you doing!” I looked over to see another tall, handsome guy walking over, looking shocked. I knew him. Julian’s best friend, Ben. They were too conspicuous. I was anxious to go inside and afraid Julian would grab me again, so I pointed at the shop. “Inside.” He clearly didn’t get what I meant, but nodded. I walked in. Behind me, Ben’s voice drifted over: “Dude, Julian, are you possessed? You never ask girls for their number!” “Look at your eyes, you look like you want to eat her.” “Something is wrong. Very wrong.” Julian’s voice was faint: “You know nothing.” “I think I’m about to have a wife.” 4 “You already have one,” Ben teased. “That fiancée of yours.” Julian told him to get lost. “Not her.” The coffee shop was new and trendy, lots of girls taking photos. Julian and Ben looked around. Ben asked, “Which one is your fiancée?” “Who knows?” Julian frowned, then tapped something on his phone. My screen lit up. Message from Julian: [I’m here.] I looked up and saw them walking toward me. Before I could confess, Julian made Ben apologize. “Apologize. Your driving sucks.” “You have the nerve to blame me?” Ben retorted. “You’re the one who said we should celebrate getting out of the engagement and made me drive you.” But after bickering, he apologized sincerely: “So sorry! Drove too fast, didn’t see you. How much was the dress? I’ll pay.” “It’s fine,” I said. “Really.” After apologizing, Ben kept staring at me, thinking. Julian noticed. “What are you looking at?” Ben ignored him and asked me, “Sister, have we met somewhere?” We had. “What do you mean?” Julian’s face darkened. “Hitting on girls in front of me?” “Screw you, I’m not that guy!” Ben lowered his voice. “I wouldn’t steal your girl.” “Then what did you mean?” “I’m not a creep using pick-up lines! She really looks familiar! No other meaning!” They went back and forth like a comedy duo. I interrupted. “Um…” They stopped and looked at me. “Let’s talk business.” Ben was confused. “What business?” I sighed, picked up my phone, and called Julian. Julian’s phone buzzed. He picked it up. Ben peeked at the screen. “Who is it? No name saved.” I stiffened. Even after deciding to end it, that stung. He hadn’t even saved my number. Ben realized. “Ah! Is it Wendy?” Hearing my name, Julian’s face soured again. He scanned the shop again, looking for me, and answered, “Hello.” My voice on the phone overlapped with my voice in front of him. “Julian.” I looked at him. “It’s me. Wendy.” I don’t know if Julian heard the echo. He froze. Ben’s jaw dropped. Julian turned stiffly to look at me, holding the phone. “Wendy?” No point staying on the line. I hung up. “Sigh.” The air seemed to solidify between us. Ben reacted first. “Holy sh*t, Julian, that really is your wife.” “No.” I took the ring box out of my bag. “Not for much longer.” When his mom took me shopping, I spent so long picking it out, full of joy. I never wore it, but I kept it on my nightstand, hoping one day he’d accept me and I could put it on. Guess that day isn’t coming. I handed him the box. “Julian, here’s the ring back.” “I agree to call off the engagement.” “Sorry for bothering you before.” Julian stared at me, not taking the box. After a long while, he stammered, “Wendy, I didn’t know…” I smiled bitterly. “It’s okay.” “Don’t give it back yet.” He refused to take it. “My brain is a mess. Wait a minute.” “I don’t want to wait.” I put the box on the table and pushed it toward him. “I’m leaving.” “Wendy.” Julian grabbed my wrist for the second time today. “I’ll drive you.” I peeled his fingers off, one by one. “No thanks. I’ll walk.”

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On the day I was supposed to get engaged to New York tycoon Gavin Sterling, my boyfriend died. Three years later, I stood on the podium, accepting the award for Best Actress. The host asked me, “Who is the love you dedicated this award to? Is it Mr. Sterling?” I smiled and shook my head. “His name was Xander. He left me three years ago.” Facing countless flashing cameras, I spoke with serious, stubborn intent. “Xander, if you’re watching, come find me.” The internet said I was crazy. Telling a dead man to come find me? Did I have a death wish? But I still hoped for one more miracle in this world. 1 “Xander, if you’re watching, come find me.” After I said those words, the entire awards ceremony fell silent for a moment. Maybe the expression on my face was too intense, leaving the host scrambling for a way to respond. Finally, she let out a dry laugh. “Everyone knows our Best Actress, Sue, won for her role in Goodbye, My Lover. The male lead in that movie did indeed die young, a tragic ending.” “It seems Sue is still deep in character, giving us an impromptu performance.” “Truly effortless. Admirable.” “Let’s give her a round of applause!” Thunderous applause gradually filled the hall. I didn’t offer any further explanation. I wasn’t talking to them anyway. Holding my heavy trophy and lifting the hem of my floor-length gown, I walked down the steps. Bathed in gazes of admiration and envy, I felt lighter than air. Unlike the road to get here, which had been so incredibly hard. I passed Gavin. Our eyes met. His expression was calm, his demeanor cool. His thin lips parted. “Congrats.” I nodded. “Thank you.” I had already thanked him in my speech, but it would never be enough. I sat back in my seat, thumbing the trophy. My mind had already drifted far away from the ceremony. 2 After the ceremony, there was a gala. Investors, stars—everyone who was anyone would be there. To celebrate the winners, and to pave their own paths. Gavin gave me a ride. Once inside the banquet hall, I consciously separated from him. Avoiding the crowd, I slipped away to the quieter back garden. I set my champagne on the edge of a flowerbed and scrolled through the trending topics. News of my win was #1, naturally. A bright red “EXPLOSIVE” tag next to it. Right below it was a discussion about the new Best Actress’s mental state. Also tagged “EXPLOSIVE.” The netizens were analyzing it like they were Freud. [Her ex-fiancé turned out to be gay. Did that drive Sue crazy?] [Sister, take a break. You’re spiraling.] [Seriously dangerous. She wants to see a ghost.] [I laughed. How can Sue talk about her ‘hard road’ in her speech? The Sterling Group basically dumped all their resources on her. That’s probably why she didn’t blow up at Gavin and accepted his… arrangement.] [She’s okay with being a beard? The world really is a giant Alabama.] [Keyboard warriors just love to tear women down with zero facts. Did you miss how hard Sue worked for three years?] [Am I the only one curious about who Xander is? Reminds me of a guy I knew. A singer at a bar I used to run. Played guitar like a god, but never took off his mask. Never saw his face.] [Curious about what? Three years ago Sue was a D-list nobody. How famous could anyone she knew be? She’s just saying vague stuff for clout. She knows how to play the internet.] Fame brings trouble. Aside from my career fans congratulating me, there were armies of bots and trolls attacking me. True or false? Only I knew the difference. But the part about Xander being a bar singer? That was true. 3 Xander and I were abandoned at the orphanage door on the same day. So, we shared a birthday. Maybe that’s why Xander always protected me. If someone bullied me, he’d retaliate. Even if he got jumped, he never backed down. The other kids called him “Mad Dog.” No one played with us. Later, in school, I had good grades. He… didn’t. I became the “nerd,” he became the “delinquent.” He kept his distance so I could study. But if anyone harassed me or confessed their love, he’d take them “out back.” If words didn’t work, fists did. Boys were terrified to approach me. The girls said I was being haunted by a demon and told me not to “fall.” I just smiled softly and told them, “Xander is good.” No one believed me. Because Xander was always covered in bruises. He dyed his hair blonde. looked every inch the thug. In high school, tuition fees kicked in. Xander dropped out. Being underage, he could only find work in shady sweatshops. The pay was dirt. The money he earned paid my tuition, my living expenses, and kept him alive. Those times were hard. I studied day and night to stay #1, to get scholarships and grants. To lighten Xander’s load. But honestly? I didn’t want to go to school. I wanted to act. To be a star everyone knew. Xander said no. He let me do anything, but I had to finish college. He said, “I will carry you my whole life. But first, you need knowledge. Raise your horizons. Then chase your dream.” Freshman year of college. On my 18th birthday, I confessed to Xander. He wanted to refuse. He said I’d meet better people. But he couldn’t resist my tears. We were together for four years. I thought it would be forever. But his “forever” only lasted twenty-three years. I graduated and entered the entertainment industry. Xander bought a guitar, taught himself to play, and started singing in bars. He said, “When you become a leading lady, I’ll record your theme song.” I hadn’t become a leading lady yet. I played a maid. I had three lines. Then I wrapped. The day I wrapped was our birthday. He said he was coming to celebrate. He bought a big cake and a bouquet of gardenias. Crossing the street on a green light, a drunk driver hit him. Ran over his legs. The cake and flowers were crushed. My Xander was crushed too. 4 That’s when I met Gavin. He was the CEO of my agency. A D-lister like me never saw him. But Xander had a rare blood type, and miraculously, his heart was undamaged. Gavin found me. He needed Xander’s heart. At any cost. So, the story of my engagement to Gavin began. It was Xander’s dying wish. To give me status and a bright future. Sadly, I never fulfilled it. In this life, I felt like I never did anything for Xander. Repressed emotions fermented over the years, turning into a soft thorn in my heart. Move, and it hurts. I prayed day and night, hoping there were gods above. Hoping they’d send Xander back to me. Netizens called me crazy. I never denied it. I had seen a miracle. Right next to Gavin. His lover was the one who needed Xander’s heart. He died the same day Xander did, but was reborn in another body. That is a miracle. I hoped a miracle would favor me just once. And if being crazy meant seeing Xander again? I’d gladly be insane.

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When it was time to announce year-end bonuses, I declared that everyone’s would be doubled. The company group chat instantly erupted. A flood of insults, all aimed at me, filled the screen. Assuming they thought it was too little, I immediately announced the bonus would be increased to ten times the original amount. That only made them angrier. This time, someone smashed up my office. Baffled, I gritted my teeth and raised it to one hundred times. The next morning, the moment I stepped into the company building, my employees swarmed me. Without a word, they beat me to death. Even as I died, I had no idea why. When I opened my eyes again, I was back. It was the day I was supposed to announce the year-end bonuses. … I stared at the message I had just typed out, the one announcing the doubled bonus. A jolt of terror shot through me, and I frantically deleted every word. The memory of being killed by my own staff for being too generous was a chilling, incomprehensible puzzle. I’d always treated my employees well. More than well. They had every benefit imaginable, a four-day work week, and a strict no-overtime policy. I even had a suggestion box, and I personally reviewed and implemented every reasonable idea they submitted. They had even nominated me for the city’s “Five-Star Employer” award, and the certificate hung proudly in my office. As I wracked my brain, my boyfriend, Liam, walked in with a gentle smile. “Ava, the team sent me as their ambassador to ask about the year-end bonus. Have you made a decision?” I froze. In my previous life, Liam had died trying to protect me. This was about both of our lives now. I had to be careful. After a moment’s thought, I asked tentatively, “What’s the consensus? I’d rather hear what everyone wants.” Liam shook his head with a helpless smile. “I knew you’d say that, so I already asked around. But they all said they’d follow your lead.” The ball was back in my court. I weighed my options, then tapped my desk lightly. “How about we just stick to last year’s standard?” Playing it safe was the only logical move. “That could work…” Liam nodded, but then he hesitated. “But business was way up this year. If the bonus is the same, do you think people might be… disappointed?” My heart leaped into my throat. “Okay, new plan,” I said quickly. “In addition to the standard bonus, everyone gets a thirty-thousand-dollar gift card!” Last time, the escalating cash bonus was the problem. If I changed it to a physical gift, surely that would be fine, right? Liam agreed it was a good idea and posted the announcement in the group chat. I watched my phone, my heart pounding in my chest. Thankfully, the first reply was a big thumbs-up emoji. More followed, a cascade of positive reactions. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. It seemed I’d dodged the bullet. But just as I was about to turn to other work, Liam’s face went pale. “Ava, look at the chat. Now.” My stomach tightened. I opened the app again. A new wave of messages was flooding in. “We doubled last year’s performance, and our CEO graciously gives us a $30k shopping spree. How wonderful.” “Innovate Corp’s numbers are half of ours, but their benefits are double. Our CEO is just so generous.” “When did our boss become so ‘magnanimous’?” … The messages were dripping with sarcasm. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead, but something felt wrong. I knew Innovate Corp’s benefits package. Their year-end bonus barely hit twenty thousand dollars. Our standard bonus alone was forty thousand, not to mention the thirty-thousand-dollar gift card. The math didn’t add up. While I was puzzling over it, Liam was already panicking. “Ava, they’re clearly not happy with this! We need a new plan, fast!” I gritted my teeth. If gift cards weren’t the answer, I’d try something else. I had Liam type out a new announcement. “In addition to the previously mentioned benefits, every employee will also receive the latest top-of-the-line iPhone and an iPad.” The moment the message was sent, the chat went silent. But I remained tense, bracing for another explosion. Half an hour passed. Still nothing. Liam was the first to relax, managing a weak smile. “I guess they’re satisfied now. They’re probably just too embarrassed to backtrack after all the complaining.” I finally let myself breathe. But as I set my phone down, a few new messages popped up. It was from my manager, Jenna. “Ms. Vance, I’ve muted everyone in the group. They were being completely unreasonable, insulting you over a bonus! It was disgraceful.” “Don’t you worry, I’ll have a word with them. I promise this will never happen again.” She even added a few fawning emojis, clearly proud of herself. My brain exploded. I hit the voice message button, my voice a furious hiss. “Who told you to do that?! Unmute them in the next three seconds or you’re fired!” Not two seconds after my voice message went through, the chat detonated again, every message aimed directly at me. “What a power move from our dear CEO. First, she nickel-and-dimes our benefits, and now she’s trying to silence us!” “Heh, so much for her ‘Five-Star Employer’ image. The mask is finally off.” “Why are we even wasting time talking to this black-hearted capitalist? Let’s just file a complaint with the Department of Labor. We’ll sue her for everything she’s worth!” … Reading the messages, my world spun. I had offered everything I could think of. The benefits package was far more generous than any other year. I couldn’t understand why they were getting angrier, why they were attacking me with such venom. Liam was pacing beside me like a caged animal, muttering, “What do we do, what do we do?” He even suggested trying to multiply the cash bonus again. I shot that idea down instantly. After a moment of frantic thought, I made a decision: I would talk to them face-to-face and find out what they really wanted. But when I stood before them and asked, they all just stared back, silent and stony-faced. This was even stranger. “If you’re unhappy with my bonus proposals, you need to tell me what you want,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “How can I fix this if you don’t talk to me?” An employee named Rebecca sneered. “Ms. Vance, you know exactly what this is about. Why are you putting on this act?” “If you want to exploit us, just say so. You don’t have to play these games. It’s exhausting for everyone.” Another employee, Jessica, scoffed. “Exactly. And here I thought you were some kind of saint. Turns out you were just setting a trap for us all along.” “I’ve seen shameless bosses before, but you take the cake. You make me sick.” A chorus of angry murmurs rose from the crowd. Everyone was glaring at me as if I’d personally wronged them. After being inexplicably attacked for so long, even my patience wore thin. “You were unhappy with the bonus, so I kept adding more! The benefits I’m offering now are better than any other company in our industry!” I exclaimed, my voice rising. “And if you’re still not satisfied, you can just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen!” “But you won’t say anything! You just stand there and insult me! How is that supposed to solve anything?” I thought that, surely, someone would finally tell me the truth. Instead, they all just smirked at me, their silence more unnerving than their anger. A chill ran down my spine as I looked at their faces, remembering how these same people had killed me. I turned and walked away. Behind me, I heard a few mocking laughs. “See? She’s running away. Guilty conscience.” “She played the innocent victim so well, I almost bought it.” The insults followed me all the way back to my office. I collapsed into my chair, staring blankly at the ceiling. I had done everything I could, but I was no closer to understanding why my generosity was being met with such hatred. If this continued, I didn’t know what I was going to do. My phone rang. It was Liam. “Ava, I’ve been thinking. It has to be about the money. They just want a bigger cash bonus. I know you said no when I suggested it before.” “You’re worried about the company’s finances. I get it. So, I’ll cover the difference personally.” “I’ve already sent out the announcement for you: everyone’s bonus has been increased to ten times the original amount!” My mind went blank with sheer terror. “Liam, undo it, right now—” I shrieked into the phone. But it was too late. A roar of fury erupted from outside, growing louder by the second. The next thing I knew, the glass wall of my office shattered. The door frame splintered as someone kicked it in. I scrambled into the reinforced supply closet I’d had installed for emergencies, clamping my hand over my mouth to stifle my own screams. The sounds of destruction continued for another ten minutes before finally fading. When I was sure it was safe, I crept out. The office was a disaster zone. A wave of cold fear washed over me. Based on my last life, a ten-times bonus wasn’t a death sentence, but if they had caught me, I wouldn’t have walked away unscathed. I called Liam. My frustration with him boiled over. “Liam, from this moment on, you are not to make a single decision without my explicit approval. Do you understand me?” He sounded completely bewildered, but after another stern warning, he meekly agreed. Jenna called soon after. She explained that it was just a few hot-headed male employees who had trashed the office. Most people weren’t involved, and the situation was now under control. I breathed a sigh of relief and asked her to schedule an all-hands meeting. Next, I called my bank manager. I requested ten million dollars in cash, delivered immediately with a team of armed guards. In the conference room, my employees stared in stunned silence at the mountain of cash stacked behind me and the line of armed guards standing along the wall. Liam and Jenna looked just as confused, clearly wondering what I had up my sleeve. I let my gaze sweep across the room. “Given everyone’s hard work this year,” I began, my voice clear and firm, “I have decided to increase the year-end bonus to one hundred times the standard amount. It will be paid out today, in cash.” The room exploded. Not with cheers, but with rage. Nearly every face was contorted with fury. I could feel the murderous intent radiating from them. If it weren’t for the armed guards, I have no doubt they would have rushed me right then and there. No one moved, but a tidal wave of curses washed over me. “Ava, we worked our asses off to build this company, and this is how you repay us? You’re trying to ruin us! Are you even human?” “You do this, and you’ll have my family’s blood on your hands! I’ll haunt you from my grave!” “I’m going to kill you, Ava!” A few employees couldn’t control themselves. They grabbed chairs and charged at me, their faces promising violence. The guards intercepted them easily. The others stayed put, but their glares were filled with a venom that made my skin crawl. I took a steadying breath. “I’m not here to threaten anyone,” I continued. “I just want to know one thing. Giving you a bonus should be a good thing. Why are you all so against it?”

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The night I went to the ER with stabbing stomach pains, my boyfriend, Owen, was right beside me. But before I could even finish describing the symptoms, the on-call physician cut me off with a dismissive wave. “I told you last time, you can’t push ten abortions!” the doctor snapped. “You insisted it wasn’t the father’s baby, that you had to go through with it—I can’t do anything for you now!” I started to deny it, then, realizing the slander, I grew angry and demanded to speak to her supervisor. Owen, however, put a hand on my arm, pulling me toward the cubicle next door. “I know you’re not that kind of person, honey. But right now, we need to focus on your pain. We’ll come back and file a complaint later.” But we never filed that complaint. That encounter went viral online. My reputation was destroyed. Swallowed by the public’s scorn and vicious mockery, I fell into a crushing depression and eventually took my own life. After I died, the doctor offered a tearful apology. “I just saw how much pain she was in and wanted to distract her. How was I supposed to know she was that fragile?” Owen, meanwhile, was heartbroken. “She probably had a guilty conscience,” he’d said. “Don’t blame yourself for a thing.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back. I jerked my hand free from Owen’s grip and dialed the non-emergency line. “Hello, I’m at St. Jude’s ER. I’ve just been told I’ve had ten abortions without my knowledge, and I suspect I’ve been systematically drugged.” 1 “Pain is exactly what you deserve.” The doctor, Sasha Reed, looked at me with open contempt. “An abortion is common, but it’s not ‘zero-harm.’ This stomach pain is just the start—there’s worse waiting down the line.” She offered a cruel smile. “But you probably don’t care about that. Aside from your hair, you’re a mess from head to toe. You’ve probably already gotten used to it, right?” Yet, when Sasha turned to my boyfriend, Owen Garrett, the change was instantaneous. Her expression softened, becoming a sickening blend of warmth and obvious flirtation. It took less than a second for me to realize: I was back. I had been reborn. In my last life, it had gone exactly like this. My gastroenteritis flared up, leaving me twisted with pain, and Sasha—without running a single test, just scanning my insurance card—launched into her fabricated rant. It had nearly killed me then, just from the shock. I’d been so desperate for relief that I hadn’t erupted in the moment. The next day, Sasha had posted a heavily edited, subtly coded video of my admission online. “It is so hard being a doctor these days. Ten abortions and you come to me asking why your stomach hurts? You’re lucky it’s just your stomach,” she’d written. “You weren’t there, but the way she looked at me—you’d think I was one of the scumbags who got her pregnant, not the doctor trying to help.” Though Sasha had tried to obscure my identity, the internet had “recognized” me, and the hate had been immediate. I had tried to explain my innocence, that I was careful, that the rumors were insane. But no one had believed me. “If you didn’t do it, why did you run? A normal person would fight, scream, and file a complaint.” “The doctor was just trying to help, and you just up and left. You’re clearly guilty.” “Thank god the doctor released the video first, otherwise the psycho patient would have blamed her for medical malpractice!” The spiral of online hatred had led to my depression, and finally, to my ridiculous, messy death. 2 The memory of that final, crushing despair had strangely dulled the physical pain this time around. I didn’t panic. I pushed Owen’s hand away and looked at Sasha, my voice calm and even. “Dr. Reed, is this a joke, or are you being serious?” My composure caught Sasha off guard. She froze for a beat. But a woman who can brazenly lie to a patient’s face has formidable nerve. She quickly regained her poise. “Of course, I’m serious. I’m a doctor. Why would I lie?” “I used to work in Obstetrics and Gynecology. I’m just rotating through the ER right now. We’re old friends, Audrey. Don’t pretend you don’t know me.” Sasha then turned her attention to Owen. “Which boyfriend are you, exactly? Number three? Number five? I don’t think I’ve seen you before. She usually has a rotating cast of characters that accompany her.” Owen didn’t answer. He was clenching his jaw, his thigh muscles twitching as he desperately tried to suppress a laugh. Last time, he had simply pulled me away, assuring me of his trust. Back then, I found his loyalty touching. Now, I found it nauseatingly funny. Of course, he believed me. He and Sasha knew better than anyone how truly innocent I was. My expression remained placid. “This is my boyfriend, Owen Garrett. I have never had an abortion, and I have certainly never visited the OB/GYN with any ‘other men.’” Sasha feigned a dramatic understanding. “Ah, I see. This must be the main squeeze, then?” She nodded sagely. “That explains why you’re trying to play the victim, pretending I’m joking. Okay, fine. Audrey Hollis is right. I was just joking. It’s not ten abortions, it’s… appendicitis. Or maybe bad takeout. We’ll get you scanned right away. Go.” Though her words seemed to be a retraction, her tone was laced with condescending sarcasm, a clear attempt to signal that she was only “giving in” because she was forced to. 3 Sasha handed me the requisition forms for the lab work and scans. I didn’t move. I fixed my eyes on hers. “An apology isn’t going to be enough. Since you claim I’ve had ten abortions, I’m going to need you to print out my medical records. The full history.” I raised my phone slightly. “If you can’t produce them…” “…I won’t be dropping this.” Sasha’s face darkened. She slammed her palm down on the desktop. “What are you doing? Are you trying to threaten me? Blackmail me into silence?” “I admit, I violated policy by discussing your private health matters. But I was trying to save you from yourself! Your attitude makes it sound like I’m the villain here.” I ignored her histrionics and simply repeated the request. The records. Seeing Sasha’s anger, Owen finally stepped in, abandoning his stifled laughter. “Audrey, stop making a scene. It’s obviously a mix-up. Someone who looks like you, or has a similar name. The doctor made an honest mistake.” He lowered his voice, trying to be soothing. “I trust you, honey. I know the kind of person you are. We don’t need to waste time here. Your stomach is killing you. Let’s go get checked out, and we can file a formal complaint later.” I didn’t hesitate. I slapped him across the face. Hard. “Are you seriously this spineless? A woman just slandered me in front of you, and your only solution is to run and hide?” The force of the blow stunned Owen into silence. Sasha’s face twisted between pity for Owen and pure venom for me. “You did something to betray your boyfriend, and now you have the gall to lash out at him?” “I was going to let you walk away with some shred of dignity, maybe even keep this perfect man. But since you want to push it, have a look!” She spun the computer monitor around with a furious swipe. My mind went blank. The screen was a dense forest of entries, every single one listing a consultation or a procedure in the OB/GYN department. Based on this evidence, Sasha wasn’t the liar. I was.

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I was the rainmaker. The golden goose. The guy bringing in millions in revenue every single month. But because I didn’t kiss the ring—or more accurately, because I didn’t spam the company group chat calling her “gorgeous”—she fired me without blinking. She replaced me with her clueless cousin. Fast forward a month: the company’s sales flatlined. Zero. Zilch. That’s when she showed up at my door, sobbing. “Please, Liam, you have to come back. My boyfriend says if you don’t return, he’s dumping me.” 1 The boss, David, was away on a business trip for a month. He left his shiny new girlfriend in charge as the “interim manager.” I never expected her power trip to start with me. It was 10:00 AM when I strolled into the office with my iced coffee. My coworker, shivering with anxiety, pointed toward the main office. “Tiffany is here. She wants to see you. Now.” Tiffany. David’s new flavor of the month. She was arrogant, loud, and impossible to please. If she didn’t like you, she’d make your life hell. She once bullied a female intern into quitting just because the girl spent “too much time” reporting to David. Tiffany spread rumors that the girl was sleeping her way to the top. David usually turned a blind eye because Tiffany was sweet to him, but now she had the reins. I walked in. Before I could even say “Good morning,” a heavy binder came flying at my head. Smack. It clipped my forehead, leaving a stinging scratch. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” Tiffany shrieked from behind the executive desk. “Office hours start at 8:00 AM. It’s 10:00! Who do you think you are?” I wiped my forehead, staring at her contorted, heavily made-up face. Everyone knew the unwritten rule: The top sales dogs come in at 10. When David’s company was on the brink of bankruptcy years ago, I came onboard. In my first month, I closed five million in sales and pulled the company back from the ledge. Since then, David treated me like royalty. I had flexible hours. Tiffany slammed her hand on the desk. “Look at your punch card! You’ve been late every day this month. You clearly don’t respect company policy.” “According to the handbook, three consecutive tardies means termination.” “So get out. You’re fired!” I looked at her in disbelief. “You’re firing me? Did you run this by David?” I brought in 80% of the company’s profit. Tiffany scoffed, looking at me like I was something she scraped off her shoe. “You’re just a salesman. A glorified peddler. Why wouldn’t I fire you?” “This is my boyfriend’s company. I’m the future owner. I can fire whoever the hell I want.” I sat down on the leather sofa, crossing my legs. “I suggest you call David first.” She rolled her eyes. “Who do you think you are?” She dialed David immediately on speaker. David sounded exhausted. “What is it, babe?” Her voice instantly changed from a screech to a sickeningly sweet purr. “Baby, I miss you~” David sighed. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” She smirked at me triumphantly. “There’s a salesman who refuses to follow the rules. He’s always late. I want him gone.” “Do whatever you want,” David muttered, clearly half-asleep. “I need to rest.” Click. Tiffany looked at me, gloating. “Heard that? I fire who I want. Now get the hell out!” 2 I let out a cold laugh. “Are you sure about this?” “When David comes back and realizes you fired me, he’s not going to be happy.” I was giving her a genuine warning. Headhunters had been blowing up my phone for years with offers double my salary, but I stayed out of loyalty to David. If I left, I’d be fine. Tiffany? Not so much. Tiffany glared at me, her face twisting with malice. “You really think you’re special? You’re an employee. I am his future wife. The lady of the house. You think he’s going to choose you over me?” I shook my head. Fine. If that’s how you want to play it. I walked out of the office. The bullpen was silent. Everyone had heard the screaming. “Liam, what happened?” a coworker whispered. I started packing my personal items into a box. “What happened? I got fired.” They gasped. “Fired? Is she insane? Everyone knows you’re the rainmaker. Isn’t she afraid David will dump her?” I chuckled. “Not my problem anymore. It’s her decision; she can deal with the fallout.” “Honestly, I’ve been grinding for years. I have enough saved to retire if I want. I could use a vacation.” “But why?” asked Jerry, a junior rep. “Did you offend her?” I thought about it. “Probably because I defended Jenny when Tiffany slut-shamed her.” Or maybe because yesterday, Tiffany posted a heavily filtered thirst trap in the company Slack channel, and everyone spammed “You’re a goddess!” except me. I left her on read. That was probably the nail in the coffin. “I should call David,” Jerry said, reaching for his phone. “Don’t,” I stopped him. “Even if I come back, it won’t be while she’s here. I can’t deal with her toxicity.” I took my box and went to Finance to settle my final paycheck. I’d only worked ten days this month, but my commissions alone were over a hundred grand. I told the payroll girl I was fired and to wire the money. Suddenly, Tiffany stormed into the finance office. “Liam! I told you to get out! What are you doing here?” I glanced at her. She looked so smug, banking on her boyfriend’s success. It was disgusting. When I ignored her, she grabbed my arm. “Are you deaf? Why are you touching company documents? Get out before I call the cops!” I shook her hand off. Hard. “Let go.” “I’m getting my paycheck. I’m not even asking for a severance package, which is generous of me.” Tiffany glared at the payroll girl. “How much is he owed?” The girl stuttered, “One hundred thousand and five thousand dollars.” Tiffany’s jaw dropped. “How much?” After the girl repeated it, Tiffany pointed a manicured finger at me. “He violated company policy. He was late. Deduct it all.” I laughed. “The penalty for being late is $200. Did you fail math in elementary school?” Tiffany puffed up her chest. “I made a new rule. Three strikes and you forfeit your entire salary. Now get out!” 3 “Who gave you the authority to make up labor laws?” Tiffany crossed her arms. “I own a piece of this future. My word is law.” I didn’t have the energy to argue with stupid. “Fine. See you in court.” I walked out, box in hand. I drove home, unpacked, and checked my phone. I hadn’t left the company group chat yet. Tiffany had posted a new announcement: From now on, everyone must reply to my messages on Slack and WhatsApp within 5 minutes. Anyone who ignores me will end up like Liam. So that was the reason. David really had the worst taste in women. The chat filled with “Yes, ma’am!” and “Understood!” messages. I rolled my eyes and hit “Leave Group.” Peace at last. But Tiffany wasn’t letting me take my hard-earned money. So, I decided to teach her a lesson. All the VIP clients were saved in my personal phone. I had cultivated these relationships for years. I sent out a mass broadcast message. To my valued clients: Effective immediately, I have resigned from [Company Name]. I will no longer be handling your accounts there. Most of these people only bought from the company because they trusted me. Within two minutes, my phone blew up. Clients were asking where I was going, promising to move their contracts to my new firm. I replied to everyone honestly: I haven’t landed anywhere yet. Taking a break. But I will let you know as soon as I’m back in the game. I spent the entire day replying to messages until I fell asleep. The next morning, Jerry texted me: Bro, it’s chaos. A ton of vendors called to cancel contracts. They said they won’t renew without you. Did you do this? I smirked. I didn’t do anything. I just told them the truth—I don’t work there anymore. Jerry: You’re a legend. Tiffany screamed at three sales reps this morning, asking why they couldn’t retain the clients. People are writing resignation letters right now. Good. Let’s see how she handles the fire. I was preparing to contact a lawyer for my unpaid wages when Tiffany called me herself. I picked up. “Hello?” “Liam, you piece of trash!” she screamed into the receiver. “Where are the client contacts? The files are empty! Those are company property! Send me the numbers right now or I’ll sue you!” I laughed. She was panicking. “You are disgusting! Give me the list! Or I’ll ruin you!” 4 “Those clients? I found them. I wined and dined them. I closed them. They only answer to me. Why should I give them to you?” Tiffany sounded like she was hyperventilating. “The company paid you! That’s your job! You ungrateful dog! My husband paid you millions and you stab us in the back?” “You want the numbers? Fine. I’ll give them to you. Let’s see if you can actually close a deal.” I hung up and emailed the spreadsheet to Jerry to print out for her. A phone number is useless if you don’t have the skill. The next day, Jerry sent me a video. It was taken secretly from his desk. Tiffany was on the phone with a major client. “Did Liam tell you to say that? How much is he paying you to lie to me?” she shrieked. “If you don’t buy from us, get lost! Good luck finding another supplier!” She slammed the phone down, smashing the screen. “I don’t believe this company will die without that traitor!” she yelled at the silent office. “Everyone, get out there! I want five new clients from each of you by the end of the day!” “Five? Today?” Jerry muttered in the video. “We sell heavy industrial machinery. Getting one lead a month is hard.” Tiffany’s eyes bulged. “What? You want to mutiny?” Old Man Zheng, a sales veteran, stood up. “Maybe we should wait for David to come back. You don’t understand the sales cycle…” “You’re incompetent!” Tiffany cut him off. “The company doesn’t need dead weight. If you can’t do it, get out!” Zheng’s face turned red. He took off his badge and threw it on the desk. “I can’t do it. Find someone who can.” He walked out. Then another rep stood up. Then Jerry. “We quit.” “Fine! Go! All of you!” Tiffany screamed. “You think the world stops spinning without you? You’re all useless!” The video ended. Jerry texted: Boss is going to come back to a graveyard. That afternoon, there was a knock on my door. I opened it to find Zheng, Jerry, and the entire sales team standing in my hallway. 5 I ushered them in and poured tea. “What are you guys doing here?” Zheng looked at me, looking tired. “I led them here. Tiffany went too far. She actually blacklisted us within the industry group chat, saying we were fired for cause. Now nobody will interview us.” I slammed my cup down. “That woman is toxic.” “We have mortgages, Liam. Kids. If we can’t work…” Zheng hesitated. “We want to follow you. If you start something, we’re in.” “Yeah, Liam,” Jerry added. “We only trust you. David is a good guy, but his taste in women destroyed the company.” I looked at their desperate faces. I felt a fire light up in my chest. “Okay. I’ll handle it.” “From today on, we work for ourselves. We start our own agency. When Tiffany runs that place into the ground, we’ll be the ones standing.” They cheered. I immediately organized them. The veterans went to find suppliers. I contacted my client list. We offered the same product, but cheaper, because we had lower overhead. The suppliers knew me. They knew I moved volume. They signed with us immediately. Within a week, we had poached almost every major contract. The commissions we were making were insane compared to our old salaries. More ex-colleagues heard about our success and quit to join us. Jerry gave me the latest intel: “After the sales team left, Tiffany hired her cousin, her uncle, and her aunt to fill the seats. They just sit in the office acting like royalty, ordering the admin staff around.” “They haven’t closed a single deal since you left.” I laughed. “David is going to have a stroke.” “David video calls her every day,” Jerry said. “And she lies to his face. Says everything is booming.” “I heard her talking to her uncle before I left,” another guy chimed in. “She asked if they were going too far. Her uncle said, ‘If he gets mad, accuse him of assault. You think we gave him our innocent niece for free?’”

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