My It-Girl roommate activated some kind of health system. She was the one sleeping around, but *I* was the one getting sick. One night, she went wild with a guy, and the next morning, I ended up in the emergency room. After I was discharged, I was branded as the campus slut. My Ins feed was flooded with hateful comments, and the campus SnapChat group was full of vile accusations. Even the elderly security guard came to my dorm building, asking how much I charged for a night. My boyfriend broke up with me, then immediately turned around and confessed to my roommate: “Look how pure and innocent Chloe is, she blushes just when I hold her hand! You’re a used-up slut, worn out by too many men, you’ll die of some nasty disease!” I tried to tell the doctor my suspicions, but I was labeled a crazy person and referred to psychiatric evaluation. In the end, Chloe slept with three exchange students from overseas, and I died from AIDS. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day Chloe started her whole ‘innocent darling’ act, tying her hair in cute pigtails and charming everyone.
Chloe stared at herself in the mirror, asking us if she should get plastic surgery. She mumbled about wanting to get eye surgery and a nose job. My other roommates gushed, “Babe, you’re already perfect!” She basked in the compliments, feigning distress. “Really? But I just feel like my eyes aren’t big enough.” “Then again, eyes that are too big aren’t pretty either, like Riley’s—too big, like some startled cow’s eyes.” A chill ran down my spine. According to my last life, she’d get plastic surgery soon and then go to a hot spring during her recovery, with her face still bandaged. I’d start getting skin ulcers that wouldn’t heal for three whole months. Then, she’d pull an all-nighter at a bar before exams, posing as a genius student, while I’d suffer from a splitting headache and intense vomiting, missing my core course exam and having to retake the whole thing. In my previous life, I could never figure it out. Why would Chloe cause trouble, but I’d be the one paying the price? I gathered my courage and told my boyfriend my suspicions. But he impatiently shook me off. “Are you crazy? Are you just jealous that Chloe has so much energy, gets good grades, and is gorgeous?” “Chloe is such a pure person, how could she possibly go out drinking in the middle of the night? I think you’re just spiteful.” I had thought it impossible too. But the more she messed around, the weaker my body became, until I was eventually bedridden. Until one day, I collapsed in the dorm and was rushed to the emergency room. After a blood test, I was diagnosed with AIDS. I was completely stunned. And at that very moment, Chloe was having the time of her life with three exchange students from overseas in the dorm. After I died, the whole internet exploded. They called me a slut, said I had a different man every night, that I sold my body for designer bags and shoes, that I was a ridiculously cheap whore who’d sleep with anyone. My Ins feed, the forums, online groups, and my SnapChat feed were plastered with my Photoshopped nude photos and explicit videos. Online trolls started attacking my parents: “How could you raise such a shameless daughter?” “A low-class tramp from the sticks, she’s clearly dirty! Even if you’re loaded now, you’re no better than her for raising such a disgrace!” Chloe looked at me, covered in cold sweat, and smiled. “Riley, what’s wrong? I just said your eyes were ugly, you don’t have to stare at me like that, do you?” I knew what would happen next. She’d get plastic surgery, go to bars, livestream, and hook up with three international students in the dorm until morning. Then I’d die from illness, and my parents would commit suicide. But since fate had given me another chance, I had to find out why she was promiscuous, and *I* was the one who got sick. I absolutely would not repeat the past. I managed a faint smile. “No, I was just thinking about getting a tattoo later.”
I’m terrified of pain. As a kid, I’d cry for ages just getting a vaccine, so I never imagined I’d get a tattoo. But I went anyway. The moment I sat in the shop, my palms were sweating. When the tattoo artist came over with her tools, I wanted to run, but I gritted my teeth and stayed put. Seeing me like that, the tattoo artist couldn’t help but ask, “Girl, are you sure you want this?” I gritted my teeth and nodded, “Yes.” The design was small, a tiny rose. After it was done, my arm burned and throbbed, feeling like it was on fire. The tattoo artist warned me not to let it get wet. I agreed, and when I got back to the dorm, I casually “accidentally” spilled water on Chloe’s right arm. She complained, “Riley, what are you doing? My shirt’s all wet!” I apologized profusely, secretly observing her. She was perfectly fine, but my tattoo area was already red and blistering. Not giving up, I deliberately went out and drank. I pulled an all-nighter, and came back feeling absolutely sick. But then I saw Chloe, still getting up at six in the morning to study, looking like the picture of a healthy college student, not a hint of fatigue on her face. I vaguely realized that this transfer was one-way. She did bad things, and I suffered, but when I did bad things, it had no effect on her. What if I started taking care of myself? Could I counteract her negative influence on me? To test this, I started diligently practicing self-care every day, focusing on skincare. I used the most expensive serums and took oral collagen supplements. But the result was the same. Chloe’s skin got better day by day, while everything I did seemed pointless on me. During class, two guys in our class saw us come in and started whispering. “Chloe’s gotten so hot lately, and her skin is amazing. Why didn’t I notice before?” “Ugh, look at Riley, though. It’s hilarious. She looks like death warmed over.” Chloe heard their comments and modestly covered her face. “Oh, stop it, you guys! I’m so low-maintenance, I just use bar soap to wash my face. Not like Riley, with all her expensive creams and serums, spending a fortune for nothing, right?” “But then again, Riley’s parents are major donors to the university, so she’s got all the money in the world. She can buy whatever beauty treatments she wants later, so don’t be too hard on her.” My hand, tucked into my pocket, clenched into a tight fist. I finally understood. This system only transferred my good things to her and dumped her unwanted things on me. Chloe must have figured this out too, because over the next few days, she completely let loose. She started experimenting with her style, and every night, she was on FaceTime with different men. “Babe, I’ll be over tonight, okay?” “Ugh, you’re annoying, you kept me busy for so long last time, I really don’t want to tonight…” I listened, breaking out in a cold sweat. One day, she came back from outside, humming a song and drinking bubble tea. My body, however, was wracked with sharp pains, like tiny, prickly brushes were stirring inside me. I went to the hospital, and the doctor told me it was a gynecological infection. I nearly collapsed. She went out hooking up with men, and *I* got an STD. To this day, I still haven’t fully recovered, but she seemed to be heading out again. I watched her sitting next to me, cheerfully texting some guy on SnapChat. Finally, the fear of death and my hatred for her became too much. I roared out loud. “Chloe, can you have some self-respect? Don’t you think it’s disgusting, sleeping around like this every day?” The entire classroom instantly fell silent. Chloe froze, then her eyes immediately welled up. “I… I was just ordering food delivery… why are you yelling at me?” My boyfriend, Leo, lunged from the back of the room, shoving me. “What did Chloe ever do to you? Why are you suddenly barking like a maniac?” I tried to defend myself. “She, she…” “She what?” He slapped me. “Look at you now! You’re disheveled, you smell awful, did you catch some nasty disease?” I shook my head frantically. “I told you, because she’s been sleeping around, I…” “Shut up!” he roared. “How can you be so malicious? You’re so crazy with jealousy over her that you’re spreading rumors about her in class?” The classroom had already erupted. “I thought Riley was one of those really well-behaved girls, but she’s actually…” “Her face really does look terrible lately, like she’s on drugs or something.” “She used to have such good grades, but now she’s failed several classes, and she keeps staring at people. It’s creepy.” Chloe was crying, looking like she’d just stepped out of a sad movie, but I clearly saw a faint smile on her lips. I knew. She was doing this on purpose. She knew about this system all along.
I had no choice. I took a leave of absence, took the first train home that night, sobbing as I begged my parents to get the university to transfer those three international students to a different campus. My parents were terrified. At first, they thought I was being bullied, but after I stammered out the whole story, they just thought I was losing my mind. But seeing how scared I was, my dad eventually went to talk to the principal. The principal acted quickly; those three international students were moved to another campus that very day. I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking I’d at least get a moment to catch my breath. But I was too naive. Chloe suddenly announced she was going to be an influencer, livestreaming makeup sales from our dorm every day. “Babes, look at my skin, isn’t it like a peeled egg?” “This is my new favorite product! The results are insane!” As she spoke, she smeared some shady, unregulated face mask all over her face. My scalp crawled. Sure enough, the next day, my face started peeling in patches. She, meanwhile, was bouncing around, livestreaming, and endorsing a bunch of questionable products. Not long after, she said an investor had noticed her and wanted to help her debut. “He said I have a ‘first love face’ and wants to sign me. Ugh, I’m so conflicted, should I do it?” The moment I heard that agent’s name, a chill went through me. That guy was notorious, a total sleazeball known for exploiting young, struggling influencers. He’d get them into escorting – drinking with clients, sleeping with powerful directors. Many would get dropped halfway through, and I remember one poor girl who jumped from a building. Her family never got justice. At first, I thought I’d only get sick if she got involved with those few international students. But now I understood, it wasn’t about the people, it was the system. As long as this system was active, she’d be reckless, because the one suffering the consequences would always be me. I started having insomnia, staring blankly at the ceiling all night. This couldn’t go on. Sometimes, I even thought about slipping her some poison. Or just stabbing her in the neck, and we could go down together. But I didn’t dare. This system was too twisted. What if I tried to kill her, and only *I* ended up dead? I got out of bed in the middle of the night to get water, holding the cup and contemplating for a few seconds. Suddenly, I froze. I think I knew how to fix this. The next day, I approached her, supporting her decision to pursue a career. “I really think you should go for it. Your skin is so good, and you have such presence. You’re definitely going to be famous.” She eyed me suspiciously but said nothing. A few days later, that shady investor showed up at our dorm. He leered at Chloe with an oily smile, patting his chest. “Our Chloe is a true gem. Come with me, I guarantee you’ll hit it big.” That evening, the investor took her to meet three men. They were three bloated, leering men, their mouths full of crude jokes. One of them grinned, handing her a large glass of red wine. “Chloe, I hear you can really hold your liquor? Come on, chug this first!” Another chimed in. “We brothers are here just for you today. Heard you can drink anything, huh?” Chloe smiled flirtatiously and confidently raised her glass. “I can drink anyone under the table.” “That’s the spirit!” The men clapped and ordered another round from the waiter. “Now this is someone who really wants to make it big.” At that moment, I was in the dorm, overcome by a wave of nausea. I bent over, dry-heaving, my stomach churning violently. Then came the second round, and the third. They were pouring it into her, but I was the one throwing up. My face was pale, my vision blurry, and my knees began to buckle. Chloe, on the other hand, was still smiling radiantly. The three fat men exchanged sinister glances. One of them picked up a yellowish, foul-smelling liquid and brought it to her lips. “Chloe, this drink, I prepared it just for you. Drink this, and your debut is a done deal.” Chloe nonchalantly took the glass. “Well, you big shot, you can’t lie to me, okay?” She smiled and drank it down, but the next second, she clamped her hand over her mouth, her face instantly turning green. She staggered, gripped the table, and bent over, dry-heaving again and again. The investor roared with laughter. “Whoa, Chloe, your drinking skills aren’t so great after all!” One of the fat men laughed so hard he nearly fell over, and another started egging her on. “Another glass! This is nothing, you have to be fearless to get famous!” Chloe’s red-rimmed eyes were wide with disbelief. Meanwhile, I sat in the dorm, expressionless. That gut-wrenching nausea was gone. Now it was my turn to fight back.
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