Everything I did was for today. I laced my brother and sister-in-law’s dinner with rat poison, then sat back and watched them eat every last bite. My sister-in-law, being on a diet, barely touched hers and managed to survive. My brother wasn’t so lucky; he flatlined in the ambulance. My parents died when I was young. It was my brother and his wife who raised me, who put me through school. The neighbors rushed in, calling me a heartless monster, a beast with no soul. But they didn’t know the truth. I had been waiting for this day for a very, very long time. 1 The wailing rose and fell, piercing the silence of the night. Mrs. Higgins, the neighbor from 4B, was the first to burst in. She let out a high-pitched scream when she saw my brother Brad and his wife, Karen, convulsing on the floor. Simultaneously, the approaching sirens sliced through the night air. “Sarah! What did you do to them?” Mrs. Higgins’s hand trembled as she pointed at me, then threw herself over Karen. “Hang on, honey! The ambulance is almost here!” Other neighbors flooded the hallway, blocking the door, whispering and pointing. Two officers pushed through the crowd. They took one look at the bodies on the floor. “Did you do this? These are your family members. Why would you do this?” My expression didn’t change. I looked the cop in the eye. “That’s right. I killed them.” The neighbors gasped. Their eyes filled with horror. Someone couldn’t hold back their anger. “Why? Why would you do such a thing! After your parents died, Brad and Karen took you in. They treated you like gold! They didn’t even have their own kids for ten years because they didn’t want you to feel neglected!” “When you first got here and got sick, Karen ran home three times a day to make you soup. And this is how you repay them? You ungrateful wolf!” As the police led me away in handcuffs, the neighbors spat at my feet, calling me a murderer, an animal. In the interrogation room, the young officer slammed his hand on the table for the fiftieth time. “Why did you kill them?” “I already told you,” I said, leaning back. “I was setting them free.” Seeing I wasn’t going to crack, he grabbed his baton and got in my face. “Since you were eight, they fed you, clothed you, sent you to college. Did you learn nothing? They were your family, your saviors. How could you?” “Your niece was only six months old. She never even got a chance to see the world.” I smiled at him, unfazed. “That’s exactly why I sent the whole family on the trip together. Consider it my way of repaying them.” “Besides, the world isn’t much to look at. Dying early means reincarnating early. Isn’t that better?” “How can you smile about killing a baby?” Before he could lose it completely, the older detective beside him held him back. “Your brother had stomach cancer, but he never went to the doctor because he was saving money for your tuition!” I feigned surprise, widening my eyes innocently. “I didn’t know that. But hey, everyone dies eventually. Isn’t it better he’s not suffering anymore?” “And your nephew. He had a congenital heart defect. Your brother and sister-in-law skipped meals to save for his surgery!” I shrugged. “I didn’t decide his genetics. Besides, heart defects are hard to cure. Why waste the money?” The young cop raised the baton, veins bulging in his neck. “Don’t do it, Miller,” the old detective warned. Miller threw the baton against the wall with a loud clang. Just as he turned to storm out, I spoke up. “Do you really want to know the reason?” He spun around, nodding intensely. “I want donuts. Specifically, the glazed ones from Joe’s Bakery.” “You’re playing me!” Miller’s hope turned instantly back to rage. “I can’t do this. She’s stone cold!” He slammed the door behind him. Well, that was easy. Kids these days have such short fuses. 2 The next day, a different young officer walked in. It was Leo. He held a box of donuts from Joe’s Bakery. “Bought these for you.” I looked up, genuinely surprised. He was my college classmate. “Long time no see, Sarah.” I didn’t expect him to end up here right after graduation. And I certainly didn’t expect to be his prisoner. “Leo. Congratulations. Bright future ahead of you.” The old detective watched us silently from the corner. “Can you tell me why?” Leo asked, his voice gentle, just like it used to be. I stared at the donuts. Leo was the golden boy of our class. The light I could never touch. Once, when I was walking back to the dorms after a shift, two thugs cornered me. Leo was the one who passed by and saved me. He helped me out of trouble more than once. He was one of the few friends I had. “I don’t want donuts anymore,” I said. “I want chili. From that diner on 4th and Main.” “I’ll go get it.” As Leo left, the old detective spoke up. “You went to the same university. Why destroy your life like this?” His eyes were full of pity. “People die,” I said. “Sooner or later.” He wouldn’t give up. “Every action has a consequence. If you cooperate, maybe you can get a lighter sentence.” “Lighter sentence?” I laughed. “First-degree murder? Are you treating me like a toddler?” The room fell silent. Leo returned thirty minutes later. I took a sip of the steaming chili. Ptui. I pushed it away. “I don’t want it.” “What do you want? I’ll buy it,” Leo said, wiping the spill with a napkin. I rattled off a list of snacks. Leo didn’t hesitate. He went out again. When he returned, he wasn’t alone. Emily, my college roommate, stood behind him. The moment she saw me, tears streamed down her face. Still a crybaby. “Sarah, you’re not this kind of person! I don’t believe you killed anyone, let alone your whole family.” She hugged me, sobbing. “Tell them! There has to be a reason, right?” I looked at the old detective behind them. “You brought her here. You’ve done your background check on me?” “But I stand by what I said. I killed them to set them free. Saves resources.” I patted Emily gently. “Stop crying. You look ugly when you cry.” She went pale, gripping my hand. “I don’t believe it. You aren’t like this!” “It is what it is. Believe it or not.” 3 Emily pulled out her phone and shoved the screen at me. “This is us walking back from our part-time jobs. You said you wanted to earn money for your nephew’s surgery. You wanted to take your brother and Karen to the beach.” “You bought toys every month to mail home. You sent every cent you earned to them.” “I saw how much you loved them… You wouldn’t do this. Right?” The video showed a younger me, talking about a future that never existed. I closed my eyes and stopped talking. Emily left, crying, begging me to speak up. “The case is high-profile,” the detective said. “Public pressure is mounting.” Watching Emily leave, I let out a long breath. “You win. I’ll tell you the truth. But before I speak, I want to see my sister-in-law.” The detective arranged it. I saw Karen in the hospital. She survived, but her organs were failing. She was in a wheelchair. Seeing me, she immediately started screaming. “We raised a dog and it wagged its tail! We raised you for ten years and got a murderer!” She coughed violently, attracting a crowd of patients and nurses. Seeing the audience, she turned up the volume. “We worked while sick to pay for your school! I picked you up every day from elementary through high school so you wouldn’t be bullied!” The crowd whispered. “Picked her up in high school? They really treated her like a princess.” Karen continued. “When you were a sophomore, your brother took a knife for you defending you from a thug! He was in the hospital for a month!” The crowd looked ready to tear me apart. I stood there, calm, letting her talk. “We moved near your college just to be close to you! We promised to buy you a car!” “And you threw your six-month-old niece off the balcony!” Karen broke down sobbing. People pointed fingers. “What a monster.” “Why don’t you just die?” If not for the police, the crowd would have drowned me in spit. 4 An old man stepped out of the crowd, raising his cane. “I don’t care about jail. I’m old. An animal like this deserves to die!” He whacked me. Hard. Once, twice. I didn’t flinch. I hadn’t touched him, yet I was taking a beating because of Karen’s lies. The cops intervened gently because of his age. He huffed and walked away. Karen wailed louder. “Your nephew waited for you every day! And you kicked him into the river! No body, no grave!” “Kill her! Kill the beast!” the crowd chanted. Hospital security had to rush in to hold them back. Two older women comforted Karen. “My husband was your brother! When your parents died, nobody wanted you. We took you in! We gave you the best of everything!” She looked at me with pure venom. “You evil demon.” “She needs to die,” a woman hissed. “Yes, death penalty.” The police next to me looked nervous, fearing a riot. In the heavy tension, I suddenly laughed. “Karen, you still have a talent for spouting garbage.” Karen’s face went pale. She stopped crying. “Did you poison the food?” I nodded. “I did.” “See! I told you! Oh, if I knew… we should have never brought you home.” She sighed, playing the martyr. Someone grabbed my hair, trying to force me to the ground. Leo blocked them just in time.

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I was born unique, with two hearts beating inside my chest. It was the only thing that ever made my parents smile at me. Because my older brother, Caleb, was born with a congenital heart defect. My parents brought me into this world for one reason only: to be a spare part, to ensure Caleb’s survival. Later, I met Sarah. We fell in love and got married. She pulled me out of the abyss, away from my desperate yearning for familial love. I thought she would be different from my parents. But when my brother’s condition worsened, she became obsessed with the idea that I should donate one of my hearts to him. What she didn’t know was that I only had one heart left. My other heart was already beating inside her chest. 1. “It’s just one heart, Lucas. How can you be so selfish?” “You were born for this, weren’t you? To let your brother live?” Sarah gripped my hand so tightly her knuckles turned white. “But I want to live too, Sarah. Without a heart, I’ll die.” Sarah’s face stiffened, then her expression hardened. “You have two hearts. Give one up, you’ll still have one left. You’ll live.” “But Caleb is different. Without your heart, he has no chance. He’ll die.” Ignoring my struggles, Sarah pushed me toward the prep room. Desperate, I tried to explain. “I only have one heart left, Sarah.” “Didn’t you look at the test results?” Sarah wouldn’t listen. “Who knows what you did to avoid donating? You probably bribed the technicians to fake the report.” She thought I had paid someone off to alter my medical records. “No, Sarah, listen to me. I had surgery when I was a kid. I already donated one heart.” “Enough, Lucas! Just save your brother! Why are you being so stubborn?” Sarah cut me off sharply. “I’m not lying! My heart is inside you!” She didn’t hear a word I said, marching straight toward Caleb’s prep room. 2. The other doctors in the prep room froze, staring at us. Then someone scoffed. “Trying to pull the romance card now? That’s disgusting.” “Your brother is fighting for his life, and you’re here whispering sweet nothings to your sister-in-law?” Only our families knew Sarah and I were married. Her colleagues didn’t know me. Since Sarah handled everything for Caleb’s hospitalization personally, everyone in the department assumed Caleb was her husband. And Sarah never corrected them. “Exactly. Instead of saving his own brother, he’s hitting on his sister-in-law.” “Whatever heart you have, it’s wasted on you.” Hearing their words, I wanted to scream the truth. “Actually, I’m the one who…” Sarah stormed out of the prep room and grabbed my wrist. “Today, you are donating that heart.” “Your brother is already in the operating room. You’re next.” She slapped a stack of papers onto the counter. “I’ve already signed the consent forms. Get on the table.” Inside the OR, I saw Caleb. He looked so frail, eliciting sympathy from everyone around him. “Don’t worry, Caleb. Your wife, Dr. Sarah, will make sure you live a long life.” Caleb didn’t correct the title. He just gave a weak smile. “It’s all my fault. Making my little brother sacrifice so much for me.” His voice was filled with self-blame, but the look he gave me was pure provocation. The other doctors murmured about how kind my brother was, and how heartless I must be. After comforting Caleb, Sarah ignored my violent struggles and forced me onto the operating table. She ordered the anesthesiologist to sedate me immediately. Moments later, my struggles ceased as the drugs took hold. Sarah brushed her hand across my cheek. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you survive.” Her mentor had performed heart transplants before, so she was confident she could keep me alive. “Once your brother recovers, the whole family will accept you. And I’ll be right by your side.” 3. Sarah and her colleagues began the surgery with tense efficiency. After what felt like an eternity, Sarah removed a heart from my chest. Without even looking at me, she took my heart and rushed into Caleb’s operating room. My chest lay open, my body alone on the cold table. The shrill alarm of the monitoring equipment startled the attending doctor awake. “Why did he flatline? I thought he had two hearts?” One of Sarah’s colleagues looked confused. “Dr. Sarah was just joking, and you believed her?” “Good riddance. He was a bad seed anyway. Wouldn’t save Dr. Sarah’s husband and tried to hit on her.” Another colleague chimed in. “So what do we do now?” “He’s dead. Just wait for someone to claim the body. If no one comes, send him to the morgue.” With that, the doctors left the room. Sarah focused entirely on Caleb’s surgery. Despite her confidence, this was her first transplant. Fortunately, hours later, the surgery was a success. Sarah followed Caleb to the recovery room. Only after Caleb was settled did she remember me. She was about to head back to my OR when she bumped into a colleague in the hallway. “Where is my husband?” The colleague paused, then answered. “Isn’t he back already?” “Don’t worry. The nurses will keep an eye on your husband.” Sarah didn’t catch the oddness in the reply. She figured her colleague was right. With her around, the nurses would look after me. So, Sarah went back to her office to work. A day later, Caleb woke up. Sarah was by his side. “Caleb, you’re finally awake.” Seeing Sarah, Caleb burst into tears of relief. 4. Sarah hugged him tight. “Don’t worry. The surgery went perfectly.” “Your heart won’t give you any more trouble.” Caleb touched his chest. Thinking about how his lifelong illness was finally gone, he held onto Sarah and wept. Sarah reminded him to stay calm while rubbing his back. A nurse passing by teased them. “Dr. Sarah is so good to her husband.” Sarah froze. She remembered I was still in another room on the ward. She started to explain. “You misunderstand, he’s not…” Caleb clutched his chest, cutting her off. Sarah had to pat his back again. “I told you not to cry. You need to rest to recover.” Seeing Caleb like this reminded her of me. She hadn’t seen me since the surgery. “Caleb, rest now. I’m going to check on Lucas.” She started to stand up. But Caleb grabbed her hand. “I kept the surgery a secret from Mom and Dad. This is the critical recovery period. If I’m alone, I’m scared something will go wrong.” Seeing Caleb’s pale face, Sarah’s heart softened. She figured her colleagues and the nurses would look out for me because of her. She relaxed. “Alright. I’ll stay with you a few more days.” Caleb watched Sarah sit back down before slowly closing his eyes. In the morgue, an attendant stared at my body, troubled. “It’s been two days and no one’s claimed him. What do we do?” Another attendant was cleaning up. “What are you looking at? Let’s just bag him and go home.” Together, they tossed my body into a bag. “Look at him. Died so miserably. Probably wasn’t a good person.” “Good, bad, they all burn the same.” “True. Shame though, he was so young.”

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I woke up, and the world had changed. Everyone’s appetite had inexplicably shrunk by a thousand times. The gym bros who used to inhale three steaks for dinner now couldn’t finish a teaspoon of rice. The self-proclaimed “Food God” influencers struggled to finish a single cracker over three days. Only I retained my original appetite. That day, I was livestreaming myself eating a popsicle like usual, and the comments section exploded: “Oh my god! He ate the whole thing!” “This has to be fake!” “It’s impossible for a human to eat that much!” In this new world where everyone had the stomach of a hummingbird, I, a regular guy who liked snacks, became a national idol just for eating a single popsicle. Chapter 1 I woke up and found myself in Tiny Belly Nation. Here, wealth is determined by appetite. The bigger your appetite, the richer you are. A normal meal consists of a single grain of rice. Three grains a day is the standard. The most famous competitive eaters online can manage four grains in one sitting. During lunch, my deskmate, Julian, was watching a competitive eating stream while savoring his single grain of rice. He sighed wistfully. “When will I ever be as amazing as The Great Gobbler?” I glanced over and couldn’t help but joke, “Feeding the birds?” Julian shot me a cold glare. “Oh look, it’s the broke kid. Can’t afford lunch again? This is limited edition imported rice my dad bought me. You’ll never taste anything this high quality in your life!” He pushed his plate towards himself protectively. I was confused. It was just one grain of rice in the center of the plate. On his phone screen, “The Great Gobbler” was attempting the impossible: eating five grains of rice in one meal. Julian watched with intense focus, swallowing hard. As the streamer on screen swallowed that fifth grain, Julian put his own grain into his mouth. He finished and let out a satisfied burp. “Wow! The Great Gobbler set a new record! Five grains! Success!” At that moment, a notification pinged. The Wealth Ranking updated. The Great Gobbler shot to number one. Next to his name was the number: 5 grains. Just like his record. I scrolled down to find my name. It wasn’t even ranked. Next to it was: 0.3 grains. I realized I was probably the poorest kid in this class. Arguments broke out among my classmates. “The Muncher is challenging it too! Don’t get excited yet. Wait until Muncher succeeds, then we’ll see who’s laughing!” “Gobbler is the best!” “No, Muncher is!” Listening to them bicker over rice grains, I blurted out, “Five grains? That’s not even enough to get stuck in my teeth.” The air froze. Everyone turned to look at me. Then came the tidal wave of mockery. “You’re full of it! Stuck in your teeth? I’ve never met someone who brags this hard!” “You can’t even finish one grain, and you’re talking big? Don’t forget, finals are tomorrow. If you fail the one-grain test again, the school is going to expel you!” “Students like you are a disgrace to this academy!” I responded calmly, “I’m not bragging. I can eat three bowls of rice.” The laughter grew louder. Class President Maya tugged at my sleeve, looking worried. “Leo, stop posturing. Three bowls of rice could feed the entire country for three days. How could you possibly eat that?” “Just apologize to everyone and let it go.” I ignored the kindness in her eyes and emphasized again, “I can eat three bowls of rice.” Someone shouted, “I’ll go to the cafeteria right now and buy it for you. If you can’t eat it, you drop out voluntarily!” I was starving, so I agreed immediately. “Deal. But get me some sides, too.” I wasn’t just a rice bucket. I needed flavor. The guy hesitated. “Sides? Only the upper class can afford sides. We can’t buy that!” Julian glared at me. “I’ll buy them!” His dad could eat two and a half grains per meal. They were considered a wealthy family. Meeting Julian’s provocative gaze, I didn’t flinch. “Okay!” Chapter 2 Not long after, Julian came back, his face dark. The class looked at him expectantly. “Julian, where’s the food?” “He definitely can’t finish it. Let’s watch him humiliate himself!” “Where is it? Give it to him!” Julian scowled at me. “The cafeteria doesn’t have that much rice. Did you calculate this beforehand?” I paused, my stomach growling loudly. “I’m starving to death here! Do I look like I’m joking?” Plan A failed. I wanted to scam a free meal off Julian, but it seemed hopeless. I sighed and went back to my seat. But Julian followed me. “This… this should be equivalent to three bowls of rice. If you can eat this whole thing, I’ll believe you!” I looked up. “A popsicle?” Seeing my hesitation, Julian smirked. “Scared? I knew you were bluffing!” “You should honor the bet and drop out!” Maya stepped in to de-escalate. “Alright, alright, it was just a joke between classmates. Julian, let Leo go. His family is struggling enough as it is. He can’t lose his education.” Julian looked at me with pure malice. “Fine. If Leo gets on his knees and licks my shoes clean, I’ll let him go.” “Lick it!” The surrounding classmates started chanting. “Lick it! Lick it!” Maya looked at me with concern and tried to intervene again. Julian pushed her hard. “Get lost!” “Leo is ugly and poor. Why are you defending him? You got a crush on him or something?” Julian’s words made everyone scan Maya and me with judgment. Maya blushed furiously. “What are you saying! I’m the class president. I speak for every student!” I finally snapped. I caught Maya before she fell. My voice was cold. “Fine. I accept.” “If I can’t finish it, I’ll drop out. But if I do finish it, you have to apologize to the class president in front of everyone!” Chapter 3 Julian laughed coldly. “Keep dreaming! Everyone, watch how a liar dies!” I sneered. “What, you scared?” “Who said I’m scared? I promise, if you finish it, I’ll kneel and apologize to Maya in front of the whole school!” I smirked. This idiot just raised the stakes himself. Exactly what I wanted. I took the popsicle. Looked it over. I really wanted something hot for lunch. Eating ice cream on an empty stomach… my mom would kill me if she knew. Noticing my hesitation, Maya tugged my shirt. “Leo, it’s okay. Just apologize. Don’t force yourself.” “A whole popsicle… if you eat it all, your body won’t handle it!” I looked at Julian. He was staring at me with disdain, waiting for my surrender. I smiled. “It’s okay. Trust me.” Maybe my smile reassured her. Maya stood by my side silently. I raised the arm holding the popsicle. Every eye in the room was glued to that piece of ice. Chapter 4 I devoured it in three bites. Then I licked the stick clean. Julian stared at the clean wooden stick, his jaw hitting the floor. I smacked my lips. A bit cold. Everyone was stunned into silence. The air froze for a second. Then someone broke the quiet. “Did… did Leo just eat the entire popsicle?” “I… I think so…” “That’s impossible!” Julian refused to believe it. He snatched the stick from my hand, examining it closely. “How is this possible? This is impossible! How could you eat a whole popsicle?!” Maya was still worried. “Are you okay?” I shook my head. “I’m fine.” Back home, I’d never stop at just one. Eating it in one go left me wanting more. Julian screamed, “You cheated!” “You definitely cheated!” “You can’t even finish half a grain of rice normally! How could you eat a whole popsicle today!” “Where did you hide it? Take it out!” Julian rushed at me, patting me down. Pulling at my sleeves, checking my pockets. He looked like he wanted to strip search me right there. I pushed him away. “Julian, you lost. Don’t forget what you said.” Class started. I walked calmly back to my seat. Julian kept muttering. “How? That’s physically impossible!” I felt the gazes of the entire class burning into my back. But I didn’t care. I just realized something important. It seems the Wealth Ranking only updates when you eat rice.

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I dated a guy for a year and ended up financially free. Why? Because my boyfriend was a rich heir with zero brain cells and a wandering eye. Every time I caught him cheating, he wired me a hundred grand. What could I do? Naturally, I chose to forgive him. That is, until I overheard him trash-talking me to his friends: “Chloe is just a gold digger. Pay her enough, and she’ll do anything.” Oh really? I decided to take the money and run. But he wouldn’t let go—crying, screaming, threatening to end it all. Eventually, the drama reached the ears of his ice-cold older brother. The brother cornered me at my apartment door. The Iceberg spoke: “My brother’s actually broke. You should try digging for gold with me instead.” 1 When Julian was caught hooking up with a D-list celebrity in his car, I was busy scouring the banquet hall for non-alcoholic wipes to clean my bag. That bag was last month’s apology gift—the price for catching him at a hotel with an Instagram model. He’d thrown in a hundred thousand dollars as “hush money” to keep me from snitching to his stiff, emotionless older brother. But tonight, at this so-called high-society gala, some klutz had spilled red wine all over it. The stain was aggressively soaking into the leather. My heart was bleeding. I wasn’t planning to keep it. I was going to wear it once for Julian to see, then flip it on a resale site for at least thirty grand. Now, it looked like a total loss. Coming to this stuffy event with him was just bad luck. “Cleaning up the spoils of war, Miss Evans?” A sleazy whistle came from behind me. I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Julian’s posse—a group of trust-fund idiots with flat personalities. I ignored them. But high-society brats can’t stand being ignored. One of them stepped right into my personal space. He tapped his phone screen and played a voice note sent to Julian: “Your girlfriend is looking for you.” Then, with a smug grin, he played Julian’s reply. His voice was floaty, trembling with a weird mix of intoxication and exertion. “Don’t worry about her… ungh… Chloe is the easiest kind of gold digger… pay her enough and she’d lick my boots.” The sticky sound of heavy breathing filled the silence. Someone patted my shoulder. “Check the parking garage. Your boy Julian isn’t known for his stamina. He’ll be done in a minute.” I knew the drill. It was payday. Everyone looked down on Julian, and the sad part was, he never gave them a reason not to. By the time I took the elevator down—maybe three minutes—he was already in his car, panting and pulling up his pants. I snapped a photo. Even through the window, I could see Julian’s flushed cheeks and damp hair. The D-list celebrity didn’t look tired at all, just acting the part of “post-coital bliss.” She looked familiar—famous for her elven looks and corpse-like acting skills. I’d seen them flirting earlier. Who knew he couldn’t even wait until the gala ended? I knocked on the glass. Julian jumped. He looked sober instantly, his handsome, youthful face twisting into illogical shock. I don’t know why he was surprised; did he think the car windows were magical cloaks of invisibility? “Chloe? What are you doing here?” “Do I need to explain?” I waved my phone, showing him the fresh photo. Julian scrambled out of the car, grabbing my wrist. His palm was clammy—sweat, or something worse. “Chloe, listen to me.” I nodded, signaling I was listening, but I yanked my hand away. He didn’t say anything else. After a long silence, he just choked out, “I had too much to drink.” The silence lasted so long that the starlet had time to dress, fix her makeup, and lean against the car door with a smirk, arms crossed. Julian, speechless and panicked, fumbled with his phone. “Chloe, don’t be mad. I’ll wire you money. Go buy some bags, jewelry, or take a trip…” Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming exhaustion. I calculated the balance in my bank account. Yeah. It was time to be tired of this. 2 To be fair, Julian had saved me once. When I met him, I was working at a car wash. To avoid the constant sexual harassment from my male coworkers, I started dressing hideously on day two. I even bought a pair of ugly, thick-rimmed glasses. But I hadn’t mentioned this: I am objectively beautiful. And specifically poor. A beautiful girl with no money is like a child holding a gold bar in a busy market—you can hide, but you can’t escape the covetous eyes. The day Julian showed up, the guys had “accidentally” sprayed me with the high-pressure hose. I looked like a drowned rat. My t-shirt was soaked under my waterproof apron, clinging to my bra. They laughed and told me to just take it off. I stood there, freezing, refusing to move. One of them got close and pinched my cheek. “So you aren’t wearing makeup. You really are that pale. Soft, too.” I was mentally calculating if my remaining $60 could cover the damages if I punched them. That’s when Julian honked. His car was finished, parked nearby. I didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there or how much he’d seen. His voice was impatient. “Who washed this? The interior is still damp.” The guys shoved me forward. “Sorry, sir. The new girl is clumsy. We’ll have her fix it right up for you.” I shook the water off my clothes. Standing by his door, I hesitated. Should I change first? I didn’t want to ruin his leather seats. Julian chuckled softly, leaning down toward me. “You shake off water like a puppy.” I froze, unsure if he was mocking me or being kind. Then, his smile faded. He reached into the back seat and handed me a shopping bag. It was a brand I didn’t recognize, clothes still with tags. “Go change. Those guys are pricks. They did that on purpose.” When I hesitated, he scratched his head, looking embarrassed. “Just broke up with my girlfriend. Never got to give her these. Don’t worry, I’m not a creep.” By the time I changed and came back out, Julian was gone. I snuck a look at the customer log to find his number. It took me until the next day to work up the courage to text him. I thanked him for standing up for me and told him I’d washed and sanitized the clothes. If he didn’t mind, I could return them. Originally, to show some backbone, I wanted to buy them from him. But after Googling the brand and realizing the price was my annual salary, I decided returning them was the wiser option. Julian replied quickly, asking to meet at an overpriced coffee shop near the university. We met a few times after that. I learned—or confirmed—that his family was filthy rich. He was born into love and money, a genetic lottery winner with a trust fund and model looks. In the first month, he got me a job as a library assistant at the university. No dirty jokes, just stressed students with dark circles under their eyes. By month three, we were officially dating. I drove Julian’s new sports car back to the car wash, purely out of spite. I bossed around the guys who used to harass me. I thought it would feel amazing. Okay, it felt a little amazing. But the thrill faded fast. The petty satisfaction was replaced by emptiness when I saw the speculation in their eyes. I was a fox borrowing the tiger’s might, sitting in someone else’s car, with nowhere to go. Was shallow revenge really all I wanted? 3 After six months with Julian, I told him I wanted to study. My parents were village delinquents who never legally married. When I was five, they left for the city to work, taking my clever little brother and the family dog. My dad said the city was dangerous, full of cars that could crush a person flat. So, they left me in the village to “enjoy life.” I grew up wild, eating scraps from neighbors because I was pretty and had a sweet mouth. When I was deciding between a factory job or a vocational school, the village matchmaker tried to sell me off. She said the family was “honest.” Turned out, the groom drooled for eight hours a day. That night, I packed a bag and ran to the city. Then I met Julian. Someone like Julian, who had been forced into elite schools since birth, couldn’t understand why anyone would beg to study. Just like he couldn’t understand how eight people could live in a ten-square-meter room the first time he visited my dorm. But I was grateful for his naive privilege. Because our worlds were so different, I was a novelty to him. Julian thought my desire to learn was “cute.” He looked into it and told me to take the IELTS exam first. He promised that once I passed the language requirement, he’d hire an agency to get me into a school abroad. I was ecstatic. I started teaching myself. My foundation was weak, but I was smart and desperate. I memorized vocabulary whenever I wasn’t with Julian. Julian got tired of watching me struggle with flashcards, so he paid for a two-month enclosed IELTS boot camp. When I first entered the camp, Julian called me fifty times a day, reporting his schedule like a loyal puppy. He whispered sweet nothings, and at nineteen, I blushed and whispered them back. My brain was full of vocabulary and grammar, but my heart was full of hope for our future. I thought: Julian is highly educated. A high school dropout doesn’t match him. Even if I’ll never have his money, I can match his education. Once I get a degree and a job at a foreign company, I won’t need Julian to be my safety net. But halfway through the month, the calls stopped coming. He got “busy.” His schedule became vague. He said he loved me, then disappeared for three days. It was like the hot water in a shared apartment—unreliable because someone else was using it. When I finished the camp two months later, he picked me up looking glowing and refreshed. His left ear was pierced with a row of black studs, the skin around them red and inflamed. I later found out he’d spent that month chasing an edgy girl who loved tattoos and piercings. His love came in intense, weird waves. To get close to her, he’d punched holes in his own body. It was the edgy girl who called me, annoyed by him. “Watch your boyfriend. He’s not loyal.” I cried and confronted Julian. Crying was pathetic, but I couldn’t stop. The panic of being abandoned swallowed me whole. I was young. It was my first love. I thought I’d met a prince. I thought Julian was my savior. He was gentle, energetic, and worldly. I’d never met anyone like him in my gray little life. He took me to French restaurants where I didn’t understand the plating, and just as I felt discouraged, he’d drag me back to his massive penthouse and cook me a comforting, homestyle meal. We washed dishes together. In his 5,000-square-foot apartment, I ironically felt “at home.” But after six months, the dream broke. I realized the penthouse wasn’t my home, and there was no prince. I broke up with Julian. I moved out and rented a tiny, north-facing room in a shared apartment. Julian, surprisingly, wouldn’t let go. He cried, knelt, blocked me at the library, and sent massive bouquets of flowers to my cramped rental every day. After a month of silence from me, Julian started drinking heavily. That’s when his infamous older brother finally came looking for me. 4 “Get back together with Julian.” Adrian Pei was the traditional kind of rich—the kind who only spoke in commands. I thought he was insane. “Your brother cheated on me. What right do you have to dictate this relationship?” Adrian leaned back in his leather executive chair, my background check spread open on his desk. His expression was bland, looking at me like I was a tantrum-throwing toddler. “Because of you, my brother is depressed and drinking himself into a stupor. I don’t like seeing that.” “Then teach your brother some discipline.” I got up to leave, but his bodyguards blocked the door. “You want to study, don’t you? Do you have the money for that?” Adrian asked coldly. I didn’t. But I could work. “I’ll pay for your education.” I stared at this man—better looking than Julian, but infinitely colder—wondering what his game was. Adrian seemed satisfied by my hesitation. “Treat it like acting. Keep him happy. Stop him from acting suicidal. You’re with him for the money anyway, right? I’ll give you money. He has a three-minute attention span; he’s never dated anyone longer than a year. Once he gets bored and wants to break up, just go with the flow.” When I stayed silent, Adrian assumed I was weighing the pros and cons. He added, “Don’t worry, he won’t be stuck on you forever. I’ll be introducing him to girls from appropriate families soon.” Appropriate families. The words floated down and settled on my head like lead. Adrian was eight years older than Julian. Their father died young, so Adrian took over the family empire early, accustomed to playing the dictatorial patriarch. He had always known about me but watched from above like a god—treating our relationship like a child playing house with a gold digger. The humiliation was sudden and sharp. I wanted to scream. I wasn’t in it for the money. Julian had money, but it was Adrian’s money. The family’s money. Julian was a nice enough trust fund baby, but mostly he spent money on himself. The biggest thing he spent on me was that boot camp. Rich people jingling their coin purses is just low-cost mating behavior. Julian, despite his youth, knew that well. I stiffened my neck, mimicking Adrian’s arrogance. I looked him up and down with the same rudeness he showed me. Then I squeezed out a very adult smile. “How much are you paying?”

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I’ve died 30 times already. Every time, killed by a man in a black ski mask. I’ve struggled, ran, hid, even called the police. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works. I still die, right on time, at 2:40 AM. Finally, on the 31st struggle, I ripped off his mask. I never expected what stared back at me. A face that had aged a decade. My own face. 1 My name is Ethan Carter. I’m just a regular guy working the night shift at a convenience store. Couldn’t find a decent job after college, so I’m stuck here on the outskirts of town, barely scraping by. No family, no friends, not even a cat. Maybe that’s why nobody noticed I’ve died thirty times. The first time I woke up in the loop, I thought it was a nightmare. Until the searing pain of the blade dragged me back to reality. The second time, I tried to call 911. But the landline was dead, and my cell service vanished. The third time, I hid behind the shelves. The killer found me effortlessly, like he knew exactly where I’d be. The fourth time, I grabbed the biggest wine bottle I could find. He dodged it like it was nothing, and the blade still found my heart. Ten times. Twenty. Thirty. Each death was terrifyingly real. I tried everything: running out the front door (intercepted), hiding in the bathroom (dragged out), playing dead (stabbed anyway), even piling all the cash on the counter. He ignored the money and killed me. His movements were precise, professional. He knew every inch of the store like he’d rehearsed it a thousand times. This wasn’t a robbery. It was an execution. Why me? Why this store? Why do I have to die, over and over, only to wake up in front of the ice cream freezer? Tonight, the 31st loop, I decided on a different strategy. I’m going to memorize every detail. Every move. Every habit. If I can’t stop my death, I at least want to know why I’m dying. 2 Time ticked away, second by agonizing second. I stood by the freezer, forcing myself to breathe. The loop gave me one advantage: I knew the future. The killer would enter through the back door, take five steps to the corner aisle, eight steps to the register, then lunge straight for me. He had a slight limp in his right leg. An old injury? A habit? He always held the knife the same way: left hand in his pocket, right hand holding the blade low, edge down. A classic ambush stance. He never spoke. Never took the money. His target was always me. I pulled out the inventory log and scribbled these observations down, knowing the ink would vanish in the next loop. 2:39 AM. I shifted my position, standing to the side of the register instead of behind it. 2:40 AM. A faint click from the back door… He’s here. I held my breath, pretending to organize candy bars, keeping the back door in my peripheral vision. The shadow arrived on cue. Familiar footsteps. Familiar path. But this time, I saw more. A scar on his left wrist, visible when his sleeve rode up. He was my height, my build. But faster. More decisive. When he neared the register and saw I wasn’t in my usual spot, he paused for a split second. Now! I grabbed the fire extinguisher I’d prepped and blasted it in his face. He wasn’t expecting that. He stumbled, but his reaction was insane. He sidestepped, dodging most of the spray. That wasn’t a normal reflex. Still, the white cloud bought me a few seconds. I dropped the extinguisher and grabbed the mop, charging him. This was the first time I attacked. No more waiting to die. We grappled in the haze of chemical powder. He was stronger, more skilled than any average joe. But I had rage. I had the experience of thirty deaths. During a dodge, I saw his sleeve slip again. That scar was clearer now. It looked like a surgical scar. Right over the pulse point. Why did it look so familiar? Before I could process it, he recovered. The blade flashed. This time, dying hurt more than ever. But I was closer to the truth than I’d ever been. 3 I opened my eyes in front of the freezer. No fear this time. I had a plan. 2:37 AM. I marched straight to the security office and pulled up the feeds. I’d ignored the cameras before. There were six. Maybe they caught something I missed. The office was tiny, just an old monitor split into six grainy views. I fast-forwarded through yesterday’s footage. Weird. Starting at 2:00 AM, the feed glitched. Static. Jumps. Like interference. And at 2:40 AM, the moment he entered, all cameras blacked out for a full second. Not a coincidence. I switched to the live feed. 2:39 AM. Camera 4 caught a shadow lurking by the back door. He’s here. I picked up the landline in the office and dialed 911. “This is the Southside Mart. Someone’s breaking in. Send help now!” Silence for a beat. Then a calm female voice: “Address, please?” I rattled it off, eyes glued to the screen. The figure had popped the lock. He was creeping in. “Officers will be there in five minutes. Stay safe.” Five minutes? I didn’t have five minutes. I watched him get closer on the screen. Then, an idea. The panic button. It was wired directly to the station. I slammed the red button. A piercing alarm screamed through the store. On screen, the killer flinched. But he didn’t run. He moved faster. He knew he was on a clock. I grabbed the baton from under the desk and hid behind the door. When he burst into the office, I swung with everything I had. Crack! I hit his shoulder. He staggered back. First time I ever had the upper hand. While he was off balance, I swung again. A glancing blow to the head. The black mask slipped, revealing a strand of gray hair. My heart pounded. Finally. I was going to see the face of the monster who killed me thirty times. I lunged and ripped the mask off. I froze. It was a face I knew better than anyone’s. But worn. Weathered. It was me. But older. Ten, maybe fifteen years older. Deep set eyes. Exhausted. A scar on the forehead. Even the mole on the chin was identical. Future Me looked at me with cold determination. “Get out of the way, Ethan!” His voice was raspy, but it was my voice. Just… broken. I stumbled back. “You… you’re me? Why are you killing me?” “Our daughter has a rare blood disease. If I don’t get the money, Lily… Lily dies!” Daughter? I didn’t even have a girlfriend. Before I could ask, Future Me raised the knife. His eyes were dead. “I’m sorry. But it’s the only way she lives.” As the blade pierced my chest, my brain was still reeling. The killer was me. 4 I woke up gasping. Not from fear, but from shock. Lily. The name echoed in my head. My daughter? My future daughter? Why would Future Me kill Past Me to save her? That’s a paradox. 2:20 AM. I sat at the register and booted up the computer. I needed answers. I googled “Lily” + “rare blood disease.” Too many hits. I searched “extremely expensive blood disorder treatments.” One stood out. Heimann-Faber Syndrome. Rare genetic disorder. Less than 500 cases worldwide. Treatment costs millions. Was this it? But why kill me? Robbing a convenience store for a few grand wouldn’t make a dent in those bills. Unless… it wasn’t just about money. I searched “time travel” + “ethics” + “paradox.” Skimmed through sci-fi theories and physics papers. 2:39 AM. I shut down the computer and stood behind the counter. Waiting. This time, I wouldn’t run. I wouldn’t fight. I’d talk. When the figure entered, I spoke up. “Lily needs treatment for Heimann-Faber Syndrome, right?” He faltered. Just a step. Then kept coming. “I know who you are. I know why you’re here,” I said quickly. “But killing me won’t help. We can figure this out together.” He stopped. I could feel his gaze burning through the mask. “You know nothing. It’s too late. There is no other way.” “Tell me the truth!” I shouted. “Why this store? Why tonight? Why me?” He didn’t answer, just kept advancing. I noticed something. He clutched his chest occasionally. It wasn’t just his daughter. He was sick too. “You’re dying too, aren’t you?” I asked. That stopped him. He pulled off the mask. That face. My face. Etched with pain. “Listen to me. You will never understand unless you live through what I lived through.” “Lily needs a bone marrow transplant. But we aren’t a match anymore. Because…” He doubled over, coughing. I stepped forward to help. He waved the knife warningly. “Because what?” “Because time travel changed me. It changed everything.” He gritted his teeth, pulled the mask back down, and charged. Dying this time felt different. My last thought was of a daughter I’d never met.

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The scholarship student I’d been supporting for years crashed my birthday party with the arrogance of a king. He slammed a crumpled ultrasound report onto the table. “Vanessa is pregnant with my child. You better be smart about this, old man. Divorce her. Now.” I stared at the paper, completely bewildered. “Are you sure… you’re talking about Vanessa? My wife?” Elias, dressed in a suit that cost more than my first car, smirked and waved the paper in my face. “Of course. We made this baby on a cruise ship last month.” His words sent a shockwave through the room. The guests gasped. My fork clattered onto my plate. Because my ex-wife, Vanessa, passed away three years ago. 1 I looked at Elias blankly, trying to process the absurdity. “Do you actually know who Vanessa is?” Elias gripped the ultrasound, his expression full of disdain. “Liam, cut the crap. Just sign the papers and vacate the position of ‘Vanessa’s Husband.’ Otherwise, you’re just going to embarrass yourself further.” The Elias standing before me was unrecognizable. Gone was the scrawny, timid boy I met eight years ago. This version wore a tailored Italian suit, his hair styled perfectly, radiating entitlement. He was a far cry from the kid picking through trash bins to feed his disabled parents. Despite his hostility, I still held a shred of hope for the kid I once knew. “Elias,” I said calmly. “Stop joking. It’s my birthday. Have a slice of cake.” He swatted the plate away. It crashed to the floor. “I don’t want your trash cake! Are you divorcing her or not? If you don’t, I have other ways to make you.” He jabbed a finger toward my face, nearly poking my eye. My girlfriend, Chloe, immediately pulled me back. Her voice was sharp. “Don’t touch him!” The entire banquet hall was staring. As the host, I felt the heat rising in my cheeks. “Elias, if you keep making a scene, I will cut off the funding for you and your family tomorrow.” I remembered why I started helping him. I saw a boy with dirt under his nails and cockroaches in his hair, studying while scavenging for recyclables. I promised to put him through college and help his family. Every month, I wired him three thousand dollars. On holidays, I sent more. But this boy, who had lived on my generosity, just sneered at me. “You think I care about your charity?” 2 He leaned in, patting my cheek disrespectfully. “Get it through your head. I got her pregnant.” He lifted his leg to show off his limited-edition sneakers, then flashed a diamond watch on his wrist. “Vanessa said once she gives birth to our son, she’s buying me a mansion. She’s moving my whole family in. Your little three-grand allowance? Keep it. Save it for your own funeral plot.” He laughed, grabbed a bottle of wine, and smashed it onto my four-tier birthday cake. Cream and sponge flew everywhere. The guests were in an uproar. “You ungrateful brat!” one of my friends shouted. “Liam put you through school, and this is how you repay him? By trying to steal his wife?” “Selling yourself for money… disgusting.” Elias rolled his eyes at the accusations. “You all think Liam is some saint?” He looked around the room, acting like a whistleblower. “You’ve all been scammed.” “Liam uses Vanessa’s money to build his own reputation! He hasn’t spent a dime of his own. He packages himself as a philanthropist to guilt-trip Vanessa so she won’t divorce him!” He was getting worked up now, playing the hero. “Vanessa supports him, pays for his charity work, and he won’t even give her a child! He is toxic. He is immoral. I am here to liberate her!” The crowd murmured. “Are you insane?” someone yelled. “You’re delusional and wrecking a home!” Elias grabbed a bowl and hurled it at the speaker. 3 “I’m not a homewrecker! I’m paying back a debt of gratitude!” Elias screamed. “When I found out Vanessa was the one actually funding me, I repaid her with the only thing I had—my youth and my body!” The room fell silent, shocked by his shamelessness. Before I could explain, Elias locked eyes on Chloe, who was holding my arm. “Oh, look at that. Using Vanessa’s money to keep a mistress?” Chloe frowned. “Show some respect. I am Liam’s girlfriend.” Elias laughed. “Girlfriend? Please. Liam is an infertile old man living off his wife. Why would a young, pretty girl want him? You’re a sugar baby!” He whipped out his phone, snapping photos of us. “If you don’t divorce her voluntarily, I’ll blast this affair all over the internet. You’ll leave the marriage with nothing, and you’ll owe Vanessa millions!” I looked at the wreckage of my party. I realized Elias wasn’t just ungrateful; he might be having a psychotic break. The academic pressure must have snapped something in his brain. I didn’t get angry. I just patted his shoulder gently. “Elias, listen to me closely.” “You are mistaken. I have always been your sponsor. The money came from my personal accounts.” I exchanged a look with Chloe. We didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “As for Vanessa… she passed away in an avalanche three years ago. I identified the belongings myself.” Elias jumped back as if stung. “You’re sick! Spreading rumors that your wife is dead? Do you have no conscience?” I had tried to be patient. But he was ruining my night, and even the calm-tempered Chloe had seen enough. “Get out, or I’m calling security,” she warned. Elias sneered at her. “You two are so brazen. Just wait. Tomorrow, the Jiang family will kick you out on the street!” 4 I realized he truly believed his own lies. I actually felt a pang of pity for him. Whoever signed that pregnancy test, it wasn’t my late wife. I felt an obligation to wake him up from this delusion. “Since you’re so sure,” I said, “let’s go see Vanessa. Come with me.” Elias puffed up his chest. “Fine! When you see her, you’ll see how much she loves me!” I asked Chloe to arrange the cars. Two luxury sedans pulled up. Half the guests, sensing high drama, got in their cars to follow us. When we arrived at the destination, I told the driver to let Elias out. He took off his sunglasses, looked around, and started screaming. “A cemetery? You brought me to a cemetery? What is wrong with you?” “Calm down. Follow me.” I led him through the rows of headstones until we stopped in front of a marble slab. “Read it. Whose name is that?” Elias glanced at it and laughed loudly. “I admit, you committed to the bit. You even faked a tombstone to avoid a divorce.” “But it’s useless, Liam.” “You can lie all you want, but she is the mother of my child.” He checked his watch, impatient. “If you agree to the divorce now, I’ll ask Vanessa to throw you a few thousand as severance. Keep stalling, and you’ll regret it.” Chloe let out a sharp laugh. She pulled out her phone, turned on the flashlight, and shined it directly on the tombstone’s photo. “Elias. Look closely. Is this the woman you spent Valentine’s Day with?” Elias squinted at the ceramic photo embedded in the stone. Silence stretched for a few seconds. Then he pointed a shaking finger at me. “Liam… you are ruthless.”

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“I’m dead, Babe!” I clutched my burner phone, frantically typing a message to Julian. “I’m at the reality show taping, but they confiscated our phones!” Julian replied instantly: “So what? Just be a good little trophy and don’t get any wild ideas.” “But… the wallpaper on that phone is a spicy photo of you!” … “WHAT?!” 1 Julian fired back a barrage of texts. “I haven’t seen you in a month and this is the surprise you give me?” “Is my face in it? Can people tell it’s me?” [Voice Message 60”] [Voice Message 60”] “Go tell the production team you need it back. Right now.” “No, steal it back. Don’t let anyone see you.” “Forget it, I’ll steal it. I swear, I have never been this embarrassed in my life.” “Where are you filming? Send the location.” “Hello? Answer me.” I crouched behind a pitch-black tent, staring intensely at the screen. The location pin spun in circles. No signal. I couldn’t even receive Julian’s messages anymore. I was sweating bullets. Suddenly, the camp loudspeaker blared. “Announcement: Chloe Evans has brought a contraband phone, violating Island Rule Number One.” “Penalty: Team Three is responsible for tomorrow’s breakfast.” I watched, dumbfounded, as the director, wearing a ghillie suit, popped out of the bushes. He grinned wickedly. “I knew someone wasn’t playing fair. Caught you, Chloe! Here’s your mission card. Beach assembly, 5:00 AM sharp.” I took the card. A camera shoved into my face, magnifying my guilt and my frozen, fake smile by ten times. Just then, a video call rang out, loud and clear. I scrambled to answer. Julian’s voice was on the edge of an explosion. “Hello? Where the hell are you traveling that they confiscate phones? Is this show even legal?” “Why aren’t you talking? Scared now? What were you thinking setting that as your wallpaper?” The director sniffed gossip. Who would I be secretly contacting at midnight? 2 The camera light was blinding, like an interrogation lamp trying to find a crack in my mask. The director urged me on. “Chloe, it’s the rules. The whole country is watching.” My acting skills are floor-level, but I had to protect my rice bowl. I straightened my back and flashed a polite smile. I spoke into the phone: “The dog probably just misses me, that’s why he’s making a mess. Uncle Jules, just wash the bedding and remember to walk him.” Julian went silent for two seconds. Then, pure shock and rage: “Chloe, are you treating me like a dog sitter? Have you forgotten who pays the bills?” My heart trembled. I calmly ended the conversation. “Okay, gotta go. I’ll be back in seven days. Bye.” I hung up before he could respond. That was the first time in my life I’d ever hung up on Julian. The thrill was intoxicating. The director took my burner phone and left on a boat. I returned to the campsite, where my two teammates looked ready to eat me alive. Jax, a former boy-band idol wearing a khaki windbreaker, asked tentatively, “Chloe, does this mean at 5 AM tomorrow, we have no hair and makeup, no breakfast, and we have to go fishing with headlamps?” I smiled at him. “Yup.” Sienna, a rising starlet wrapped in a blanket, looked furious. “Didn’t we hand in our phones together before getting on the island? How did you get caught with one?” I smiled at her too. “I had a burner.” Sienna sneered. “The rules were clear. You did this on purpose for screen time, didn’t you?” 3 Hand to God. I swear on Julian’s bank account, I didn’t do it on purpose. I use the burner for work and my main phone for my personal life. To please my “boss,” my entire persona is “lovesick girlfriend.” I fold the wrapping paper from his gifts into origami cranes. (Okay, my assistant folds them.) Setting his photo as my wallpaper is basic etiquette. As for why it’s a naked photo… Let’s just say Julian’s physique is top-tier. Professional model level. Defined abs, tight waist, powerful thighs. It’s a view. As for his face, which usually looks like I owe him eight million dollars? Don’t worry, I cropped it out. Sienna clearly didn’t believe me. She was already grumpy about not being allowed back to the hotel. Now that the cameras were off, her disgust was unfiltered. “I don’t know why a resource-waster like you came to a survival show. You’re just a burden. Go do the punishment yourself.” 4 Seven years in the industry, and I was immune to sarcasm. I smiled. “Sorry, too much business to handle, I forgot.” Sienna rolled her eyes. “What are you so proud of? You just have a pretty face. When Julian gets bored of you, you’ll be nothing.” Jax was brutally honest. “Chloe, let’s keep some distance. I’m building a ‘man of the people’ image. I don’t want to get dragged down.” They turned and went into their tents, treating me like a plague. They weren’t wrong. Most of the industry knew my backer was Julian, the CEO of Wenxin Entertainment. Thanks to him, I was acting alongside Oscar-winner Elena before I even finished high school. Seven years. The resources never stopped. Neither did the hate. An old interview clip of me at fifteen gets dissected constantly. “I want to be a movie star.” That sentence became a boomerang. “Movie Star” became my ironic nickname, and my acting skills were the punchline. Honestly, I wasn’t trying to be Meryl Streep. With this face and Julian’s traffic, doing variety shows and sweet dramas paid well enough. But I took this hardcore survival show for a reason. Julian’s “white moonlight”—his first love—came back last month. Elena, the A-list Movie Queen, returned from conquering Hollywood. He was busy throwing resources at her. He didn’t have time for his canary. I just wanted to make some money on the side. Who knew I’d screw up on day one? When the director collected phones during makeup, my agent handed over the one on the table without thinking. When I realized the phone in my pocket was the burner, I froze. Because the main phone—the one now in the director’s possession—had a wallpaper of Julian’s bare hip and waist. It happened one night when Julian got a business call and didn’t have time to grab a robe. He stood by the bed, arguing in fluent business English. He woke me up. Annoyed, I took dozens of photos of his sculpted waist. The camera panned up. Julian’s sharp eyes looked at me, half-smiling. He allowed it. He even allowed me to sit on his lap while he talked, testing the camera’s image stabilization. After the call, he gripped my ankle and whispered, “Who do you want to show this to? Hmm? Chloe, a canary should stay in its cage. Don’t push it.” I begged for mercy. Since then, those photos stayed locked in a hidden album. I never thought they’d be at risk of a public reveal.

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“Have you heard the rumors about Campus Road?” Of course I had. The rumor was about my roommate. She was assaulted by a janitor. To hush it up, the school guaranteed us, her roommates, graduate school admission. “They say someone saw her reading there a few days ago.” Impossible. I watched her die right in front of me. 1 I suppressed my shock. I went back to the dorm. My roommate, Heather, was already there. Her face was paler than mine. Something was definitely wrong. I asked, my voice trembling: “Heather, did you hear the news… about Chloe?” Heather looked at me like I was a lifeline. She nodded vigorously. She looked around nervously, as if afraid of disturbing something unseen. Then she whispered in my ear: “Vanessa, do you think it’s true? Do you think she’s back?” “Impossible. We saw her die. People don’t come back from the dead. They must have been mistaken.” I denied it instantly, trying to comfort both of us. “I don’t mean alive,” Heather stammered. “I mean… did she come back as a ghost for revenge?” My voice shook even more. “Why be scared? I didn’t kill her. She died on her own. Why would she want revenge on me?” Despite my words, my subconscious was screaming the same thing. Heather’s expression shifted from fear to annoyance. “Vanessa, don’t you dare leave me to take the fall alone.” “You played a part in her death too. If she’s back for revenge, neither of us is safe.” I stayed silent. She was right. After the assault on Campus Road, Chloe had a heart attack from the shock. She was writhing on the ground in agony. Her medicine was just out of reach. I wanted to help her get it. But Heather stopped me. She stared at Chloe with a terrifying intensity. “Vanessa, do you want that guaranteed admission?” “If Chloe dies because of this… maybe all three of us can get in.” I was shamefully tempted. I studied hard every day, but my grades were just shy of guaranteeing a spot in grad school. But a guaranteed admission… my future would be bright. Heather kicked the pill bottle into the corner. I watched her do it. I hesitated. I didn’t stop her. Because of my hesitation, Chloe died, her hand still reaching for the medicine. The school did exactly what we expected. To bury the scandal, they gave all of us in the dorm guaranteed admission. I thought it was over. I didn’t expect the rumors. Heather wanted to say more, but the door opened. Our other roommate, Bella, walked in. Heather shut up, winked at me, and casually asked Bella: “Bella, heard someone saw Chloe on Campus Road. Did you know?” “Really? Never heard of it.” Bella responded coldly, climbed into bed, and turned her back on us. Heather pouted and sent me a long text: “She’s so cold. No roommate love at all. Doesn’t even care about Chloe.” “She never liked Chloe anyway. Probably happy she’s dead.” “And if it wasn’t for us, would she even have that grad school spot? Ungrateful.” I rolled my eyes internally. If you had any roommate love, you wouldn’t have kicked away her life-saving medicine. But I had no right to judge. I patiently comforted Heather via text. Then she sent one last message: “I don’t care. I’m going to Campus Road to see if the rumor is true. Vanessa, you have to come with me.” 2 I stared at the message in disbelief. She was crazy. Suspecting Chloe was a ghost, yet wanting to go verify it? I had to admit, she had guts. But I wanted to know too. Having company wasn’t bad. Tomorrow was sunny. Good for warding off ghosts. We went at noon. To the reading corner on Campus Road. If Chloe was seen reading, it would be here. There were lots of girls with long hair reading. But no Chloe. I heard Heather sigh in relief. “See? Told you they were mistaken.” Heather didn’t reply but dragged me up and down the road several times to be sure. Only after confirming no sign of Chloe did she smile. For the next few days, we intentionally walked along Campus Road. Nervously scanning every passerby. Never seeing Chloe. Finally, we were sure. The rumor was fake. But the night I finally relaxed, a man jumped off the academic building. 3 Hearing someone jumped, a crowd of curious students ran to see. Heather and I were among them. I thought it was just another tragic suicide due to pressure. But when I saw the body, I realized something was wrong. It was an adult man. Face smashed beyond recognition. Wearing a school janitor’s uniform. A bad feeling rose in my gut. The next second, it was confirmed. Protruding from the man’s pocket was an exquisite hair clip. I knew that clip. It was a birthday gift from Chloe’s dad. Worth thousands. She used to show it off all the time. Why was it on this man? In that moment, I knew. He was the janitor who assaulted Chloe. A chill ran down my spine. Heather grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my flesh. I could feel her trembling. She realized it too. “It’s her… she’s back for revenge.” I turned to meet Heather’s terrified eyes. I opened my mouth but couldn’t say a word of comfort. I was terrified too. I held her cold hand, trying to find warmth. Campus security came to disperse the crowd. Strange. Why wasn’t the Dean here? As we walked back with the crowd, Heather clung to me, looking around paranoidly. Someone shouted. I looked up. Fire. 4 It was coming from the faculty office building! I ran towards the fire with the crowd. People were frantically trying to put it out. I heard snippets of conversation. “I heard it started in the Dean’s office.” “Apparently everyone got out except the Dean.” My heart sank. After Chloe died, it was the Dean who hushed it up. The guaranteed admission was her idea. Her again. I couldn’t help but connect these two events to Chloe. Combined with the rumors… I had to believe it. She was really back. Waves of heat hit my face. But I felt colder than ever. The fire was put out. The Dean’s body was carried out. Curled up like burnt charcoal. Skin peeling. The smell of roasted meat made me gag. Heather was already vomiting. The smell of vomit mixed with burnt flesh was suffocating. She wiped her mouth, ignoring her appearance, and asked me in panic: “Vanessa, what do we do?” “Are we… are we next?”

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My husband, Captain Ethan Vance, had to make a choice. Me, his pregnant wife, or Maya, “the one that got away.” We were both trapped in the floodwaters. He hesitated. Then he chose me. By the time he went back for her, it was too late. The current had swept her away. He blamed me. He said I delayed him. He said I killed her. For seven years, he hated me. He never even let our son call him “Dad.” The day the commercial Time Jump technology went public, he abandoned everything to go back. “Ava,” he spat before stepping into the pod. “If I hadn’t been worried about ruining Maya’s reputation by saving her first, I never would have touched you.” “I only saved you to protect her good name.” After he vanished into the past, my in-laws turned on me. “If Ethan had saved Maya, they would be so happy right now.” Even my son screamed at me. “It’s your fault Maya died! That’s why Dad hates me! Why didn’t you die instead?” Facing their venom, I made a choice. I stepped into the machine too. This time, I’m saving myself. And I won’t owe Ethan Vance a damn thing. 1 The vertigo from the time jump faded. Bone-chilling cold took its place. I was back in the flood. I felt like I was drowning all over again. I forced my eyes open. There was Ethan, standing on a small wooden skiff, looking at me with cold indifference. Our eyes met. Without a second of hesitation, he turned the boat around. He rowed toward Maya, who was stranded on a submerged rooftop. The current was ferocious. I clung to a piece of driftwood, kicking with everything I had toward the bank. Just as I was about to reach safety, Ethan’s boat passed me. Maya stumbled, nearly falling into the churning water. To catch her, Ethan dropped an oar. The boat swung wild and slammed hard into my side. Crack. Pain exploded in my abdomen. I almost let go of the wood. But Ethan didn’t even look back. He was too busy comforting a frightened Maya as he rowed her to shore. When I finally dragged myself onto the muddy bank, coughing up water, Ethan was already there. Maya was safe and dry beside him. He walked over to me, his voice icy. “Ava, you can swim. You stayed in the water on purpose to force me to save you first, didn’t you? You wanted her to die.” A shiver ran through me that had nothing to do with the cold. He didn’t know I was from the future too. “Planning to tattle to my parents again? Say whatever you want about me, but if you slander Maya, I won’t let it slide.” I pressed a hand against my throbbing stomach and looked up at him. “Let’s get a divorce.” Shock flashed across his face. Then he frowned, impatient. “I have work to do. I don’t have time for your tantrums.” “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I’m serious.” In the previous timeline, before he left, Ethan told me his biggest regret—besides not saving Maya—was marrying me to please his parents. I wasn’t going to let history repeat itself. I was giving him what he wanted. He could fix both regrets. Ethan scoffed. “My parents aren’t here, you don’t need to act. You’re just using divorce as a threat.” “Save your petty schemes. Don’t use marriage as a bargaining chip. Get in the car, I’m taking you to the hospital.” He shot me a warning glare and reached out a hand. The pain in my lower belly was intensifying. Just as I was about to take his hand to pull myself up, Maya shoved me aside. She clung to Ethan’s arm, sobbing. “Ethan! Buddy swallowed a lot of water trying to protect me. He’s not breathing right! Can you take us to the vet first? Please?” Buddy was the golden retriever Ethan and Maya had adopted together years ago. Without hesitation, Ethan agreed. He glanced at me, remembering his offer. Maya dropped to her knees in front of me, tears streaming down her face. “Ava, you’re not hurt. Please let Ethan take Buddy to the vet first. I can’t lose him.” Ethan nodded. “I’ll find someone with a bike to take you to the ER. I’ll come find you after I take Maya and Buddy.” I answered calmly. “Okay. Go.” Ethan looked surprised. But with Maya urging him, he didn’t dwell on it. He drove off in his jeep with her and the dog. As they sped away, I turned to look at the back of my dress. It was soaked in blood. By the time I walked to the hospital, the doctor told me it was too late. I lost the baby. 2 In the original timeline, Ethan saved me first, so the baby survived. But after our son was born, Ethan never held him. He paid the bills, but he was a ghost in his own son’s life. He even threw away a birthday gift our son made for him. Our boy cried, asking why other dads bought their kids presents but his dad wouldn’t even buy him a candy bar. I never understood the depth of his hatred until I overheard him talking to our son one day. “Don’t call me Dad. I will never acknowledge you as my son.” While the boy sobbed, Ethan pulled out a lock of golden dog fur he kept in his wallet. “Because everyone was busy rushing your mother to the hospital, Buddy got lost in the chaos. I failed to protect Maya, and I failed to protect Buddy.” “If I could do it all over again, I would save them. Even if it meant losing you.” I wiped a tear from my cheek, pulling myself back to the present. I had come back determined to divorce Ethan. I hadn’t planned on keeping the baby anyway. I wrote my divorce application in the hospital room. Just as I finished, Ethan walked in holding a bag of trendy toys. “Saw these at the store. Figured I’d grab them for the future kid before they sold out.” He showed me the toys, a rare smile on his face. “Is Buddy okay?” I asked. His smile faltered. He nodded awkwardly. “The vet said he’s fine. Please don’t tell my parents about today. I don’t want them misunderstanding Maya again. If you help me keep this secret, I’ll agree to anything.” So the toys weren’t for our unborn child. They were a bribe. I looked down and saw the label on the toys: For Pets Only. My chest tightened. He bought expensive imported dog toys for Maya’s dog and tried to pass them off as gifts for our child. “Anything?” I turned away so he wouldn’t see my eyes watering. He nodded. I pulled out the divorce paper, covering the text so only the signature line was visible. “Sign this, then.” “What is it?” “A contract. Promise you’ll never fall in love with anyone else.” Ethan always thought I was childish. He signed without reading, probably relieved I was being “silly” instead of difficult. Seeing his signature, I exhaled. Ethan had once been my savior. Now, I was returning the favor. I was setting him free. My mom and Ethan’s parents were best friends. We grew up together. My life was good until my mom died and my dad remarried. My stepmother turned my world into hell. She convinced my dad to cut off my allowance. I wore old men’s clothes to school because they wouldn’t buy me anything new. Kids bullied me, throwing red ink on my rags. Ethan stood in front of me, taking the ink stains. He beat up the bullies. He told everyone his clothes were hand-me-downs too, that there was no shame in it. He picked up my shattered self-esteem that day. Later, when my stepmother had a son and they decided I was a burden, they pushed me into a lake. Ethan pulled me out before I drowned. When my dad and stepmother went to jail, Ethan brought me home. He begged his parents to pay for my tuition so I wouldn’t end up on the street. 3 He saved me from the abyss so many times. I mistook his kindness for love. I was wrong. But at least now I could fix it. “My parents made your favorite dinner. They want to see us.” But as we reached the door, a friend of Maya’s ran up, breathless. “Maya is traumatized from the flood. She’s scared of the water and can’t cook. Can you come help her?” Ethan left immediately. I ate dinner alone with his parents. When his mother, Mrs. Vance, came back from an errand later, her face was dark. “Is Ethan with that woman again?” I didn’t react. Mrs. Vance slammed a grocery bag on the table. “You said he was working late! I just heard Maya bragging in her yard about Ethan cooking for her!” “I don’t know what he sees in her. If I wasn’t worried he’d do something stupid, I’d tell him she’s a divorcée!” I kept eating. I knew Maya had been married. Mrs. Vance told me years ago. Maya hid it well, fleeing to our town to escape an abusive ex. His parents kept it secret because they feared Ethan would ruin his career trying to avenge her. In the last life, I stayed quiet to keep the peace. This time, I was done. “He helped me because he’s kind, not because he loved me,” I said softly. “We forced this marriage on him. If he’s unhappy, we should let him go.” “Let him go?!” Mr. and Mrs. Vance shouted in unison. “Yes. He already signed the divorce papers. Once it’s processed, we’re done.” “Please keep this from him for now. I don’t want him to stay out of guilt.” Thinking of those seven years of cold silence, my heart ached. That night, just as I was drifting off, the bedroom door was kicked open. Ethan stood there, furious. “Ava, you went to my parents again! Are you trying to force Maya out of town?” 4 “Because of you, my parents went to confront her. They argued, the door was left open, and Buddy ran away!” Buddy was lost? Fear spiked in my chest. Can I really not change the outcome? “Think about it, Ava. You’re pregnant. You know how much it would hurt to lose a child. That’s how Maya feels about Buddy. Stop being so selfish.” “This is your fault. You have to fix it. If Buddy doesn’t come back, maybe we shouldn’t keep this baby.” His words were daggers. I knew the pain of losing a child better than anyone. But he didn’t know the child was already gone. “I’ll find the dog.” I walked past him. He sneered. “Don’t pretend to be noble. Finding him is the least you can do. Don’t expect me to forgive you.” I searched near Maya’s house. Her lights were on. Through the window, I saw two silhouettes embracing tightly. It was freezing. I had just miscarried. After an hour, I was dizzy and weak. But I kept looking. I had to find that dog. Then I would owe Ethan nothing. I searched until dawn. I found Buddy in an abandoned yard, tied up with a chain, shivering on a cold stone slab. I untied him and walked him back. When I arrived, Ethan was wiping tears from Maya’s face. “Buddy! Look, Maya!” Maya rushed over to hug the dog. Seeing Ethan turn to me, she immediately started crying again. “Ethan, Buddy is shivering. He might have pneumonia. Dogs die from that! Can you drive us to the vet? Please, I can’t lose him!” I was swaying on my feet, pale as a ghost. Ethan hesitated for a second. I leaned against the wall for support. “I’m fine. Take them.” As they drove off, darkness swallowed me. I collapsed.

I was transmigrated into a book with a mission: win the heart of Julian Vance, the cold-blooded ascetic. He was cruel, numb, heartless, and untouchable. He killed me exactly nine times. The first time, he skinned me alive and stitched the pieces into his own patchwork robe. The second time, he cut me open to take our unborn child, fashioning the tiny skull into a ceremonial bowl for his altar. The third time, he carved out my flesh to make ritual artifacts, ground my 206 bones into dust, and scattered them on the prairie for the eagles to peck. … 1 Every time I died, the world reset, and my progress bar dropped back to zero. I knelt until my knees were raw, praying for him. I endured seventy miscarriages in a single year. When he called me “dirty,” I ate mud for three years, just because he said it would purify me. But he still killed me. By the ninth attempt, I was riddled with holes, body and soul. Julian Vance had no heart. I begged the System to end the mission, but it was offline for upgrades. In a twist of fate, the reset was delayed. Floating as a spirit, I watched him gently caress the funeral portrait of his arranged fiancée, Emily Thorne. His eyes held a tenderness I had never seen directed at me. “Just wait a little longer, my love. Once I kill that bitch again, we’ll go back to before you took your own life.” “If she hadn’t drugged me, you never would have walked in on us. That was supposed to be my wedding, not your funeral.” He wasn’t affected by the reset. He remembered everything. He wasn’t a stone I couldn’t warm. He had hated me to his core ever since Emily died. The mission was doomed from the start. My spirit followed Julian as he drifted toward a door covered in scriptures. What lay behind it shocked me. The room was filled with silicone molds of Emily’s lower body, arranged in neat rows. Julian Vance, the cold ascetic who had rejected me for nine lifetimes, picked one up and kissed it fervently. He looked more devout in that moment than he ever had while praying. 2 When the kiss ended, he stripped off his clothes and used the mold with a terrifying madness. I watched, suffocating in shock. In all nine lifetimes, except for the first where I drugged him, he had refused to touch a woman. In the fourth life, when I lost control and kissed him, he felt so defiled that he poured boiling oil over himself, scrubbing his skin raw. That was the only time the world reset because he died. Since then, I never dared to touch him. But now? He was rolling his eyes back, groaning, sweating like rain in front of a piece of silicone. I looked at his ecstasy, then at my own hands, pale and wrinkled from wearing rubber gloves to clean his home. The irony was crushing. It wasn’t piety. He just thought I was dirty. Suddenly, the System came back online. “Host death detected. Initiating reset.” In a trance, I was back at the wedding altar. Julian was putting the ring on my finger. The reset point was earlier this time. Emily rushed onto the stage, tears streaming down her face, holding a knife. “Julian, are you really going to marry her?” Julian’s eyes darkened. He reacted instantly, shoving me hard. I crashed into the champagne tower. Glass shards embedded in my flesh. Alcohol seeped into the wounds. Even breathing hurt. 3 Julian didn’t even look at me. He rushed to Emily, tears in his eyes as he wrestled the knife away. “Baby, don’t do this!” He… cried? For nine lifetimes, every reset wiped the slate clean. I was used to him being affectionate one second and cruel the next. I endured the humiliation and torture to heal him, to win him. If the System hadn’t lagged, I wouldn’t have known he remembered everything. He had tears. Just not for me. “The wedding is off,” he announced coldly, holding Emily. I staggered to my feet. “What?” His face twisted in disgust. “Chloe, did you think drugging me and crawling into my bed like a whore would force me to marry you?” The guests gasped. “Oh my god, she looks so innocent, but she’s just loose!” Emily sobbed in his arms. “Julian, when I heard you two… I couldn’t take it…” He gently wiped her tears, then turned a look of pure loathing on me. “Your cheap tricks make me sick.” He grabbed my wrist and dragged me over the broken glass. “You think I don’t know? Every time you…” He stopped abruptly. My pupils contracted. I challenged him. “Every time what?” Say it. Tell them everything you remember. But he just let go, letting me tumble down the stairs. My forehead hit the floor, blood instantly masking my face. He stood above me like a high priest looking down on a sinner. “Stop trying to seduce me. I will always despise a slut like you.” 4 It hurt. Memories of nine deaths flashed before my eyes. The searing pain of being skinned alive in the first life. The gut-wrenching agony of being cut open in the second. The salty sting of having my bones crushed in the third. … The System glitched. All the pain from nine lifetimes hit me at once. He kissed Emily tenderly, not sparing me a glance. Guests surrounded me, spitting. “Slut! You deserve it!” Suddenly, hotel security rushed out. At his command, they tore at my clothes. I heard his low instruction: “When you’re done, smash a champagne bottle inside her. Make sure she can never carry a bastard child.” Lying in the wreckage, I laughed. “Julian Vance, you’re a great actor.” He turned back, eyes cold. “What did you say?” I wiped the blood from my mouth. “I said, I hope you live happily ever after.” In my heart, I called out to the System. “I forfeit the mission.” The cold mechanical voice responded: “Host has confirmed mission abandonment. Extraction in fifteen days.” That stormy night, after the guards were finished with me, they threw me out the back door.