At the school gate, I tossed a cold bun into the trash can and turned to leave. Suddenly, strange words floated before my eyes: [OMG! The Heroine is actually eating a bun out of the garbage!] I whipped my head around just in time to see a skinny, sallow-faced girl fishing my discarded bun out of the bin. She looked at me, terrified. “I… I’m sorry. I thought you didn’t want it.” I strode over to her, snatched the cold bun from her hand, and threw it back into the trash. 1 [No way! Is this NPC really that evil? He won’t even let her eat garbage?] [I feel a profound sense of powerlessness, unable to slap him through the screen.] The girl lowered her head, consumed by shame. “I’m sorry.” I flashed a bright smile. “You can’t eat stuff from the trash. Come with me, senior’s treat. Noodles on me!” She looked like a freshman. The girl froze, her instinct was to refuse. “No, no need!” “My family owns a noodle shop. It’s free. Let’s go!” I forcibly dragged the girl onto my electric scooter and headed straight for my family’s shop. [I take back what I said earlier. NPC Senior is actually a good guy.] [But wait, this plot isn’t right!] [Maybe it’s an adaptation? But it’s good, hopefully the Heroine escapes her misery sooner.] [What if the Heroine falls for this NPC Senior?] [Definitely not. The Male Lead is her canon match. Though NPC Senior might get promoted to Second Male Lead.] On the way, I asked for her name and grade. She was indeed a freshman, named Tara. After getting off the scooter, Tara dawdled, too scared to follow me inside. I had to grab her wrist and pull her in. “Mom, I’m back!” The shop was empty right now. My mom and dad were sitting there on their phones. They looked up, startled. I knew why they were surprised. I had only ever brought guys over to leech food. This was the first time I brought a girl. But they recovered quickly, both beaming with smiles. My mom said, “Hey there, pretty girl! Sit, sit. What kind of noodles do you want? Auntie will make them for you.” “We have toppings like ribs, chicken, beef, and spicy intestine,” my mom added. Tara sat down nervously, whispering, “Thank you, Uncle, Auntie. I don’t like meat. Just plain noodles is fine.” [Baby, isn’t beef noodles your favorite?] [She just doesn’t want the owner to spend too much.] [The Heroine is so good, her life is just too bitter.] I made the executive decision: “Mom, triple portion beef noodles!” My mom smiled and replied, “You got it! Jay, come help me in the back.” “Okay.” 2 I followed my mom into the kitchen while my dad stayed out front talking to Tara. My mom turned on the stove, her face darkening as she whispered, “What’s your relationship with her?” I quickly explained, “Nothing! She’s a freshman. I didn’t even know her half an hour ago.” My mom huffed, “If you don’t know her, why bring her to the shop? Is she starving or something?” I sighed. “Mom, she was eating a cold bun I threw in the trash.” My mom’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t speak for a long time. After a while, she raised her hand and smacked me. “Wasting food? You looking for a beating?” I clutched my head, acting pitiful. “You packed too much! I couldn’t finish it, and I was scared you’d yell at me if I brought it back!” My mom gritted her teeth. “From now on, take only what you can eat! No waste!” I grinned apologetically. “You got it!” My mom, afraid Tara wouldn’t be full, cooked a huge portion of noodles. There was plenty of beef topping left over, so she dumped it all on. I stared at the massive basin of noodles, dumbfounded. “Mom, isn’t that a bit much?” “You think everyone has a stomach the size of a thumb like you? Girls her age have huge appetites!” 3 When I placed the basin on the table, Tara looked overwhelmed. “Senior, it’s too much, I…” “Whatever you can’t finish, just leave!” Tara corrected herself. “I can finish it.” “Eat if you can, but don’t force yourself. Don’t make yourself sick.” “Mmh.” Tara’s eyes suddenly reddened. She lowered her head, staring at the table. “Thank you.” My mom smiled. “No need to thank us. Eat up before it gets soggy.” [NPC Senior’s family are all kind people. Looks like the Heroine won’t starve anymore.] [Not necessarily. Helping once doesn’t mean helping forever.] [It’s still better than her bio mom, who got a new family and completely ignores whether the Heroine lives or dies.] Tara ate the noodles in small bites, but large teardrops fell into the bowl. Seeing this, my parents and I felt a sour ache in our hearts. We all looked away. My mom dragged me back to the kitchen. “What exactly is the situation with this girl’s family?” The floating text hadn’t revealed enough yet, and having just met her, I shouldn’t know too much. I said uncertainly, “Her mom remarried and ignores her. Her dad is probably dead.” My mom was furious. “What kind of people are they? Forget it, can’t control other people’s families! From now on, you bring her breakfast. Lunch and dinner, you get food from the cafeteria for her. Bring her to the shop for supper. Consider it sponsoring a needy student!” I nodded vigorously. “Okay!” 4 My mom was right. Tara’s appetite was indeed impressive. She actually finished the entire basin of noodles. My mom loves it when people finish her food. She beamed, “Pretty girl, were Auntie’s noodles good?” Tara nodded seriously. “Auntie’s noodles were very delicious!” My mom’s smile grew even wider. “Then come every day to support Auntie’s business! Auntie won’t charge you!” Tara looked troubled, seemingly embarrassed. My mom proactively offered, “How about this? You come help out in the shop every night, and Auntie will make you noodles. How does that sound?” “Thank you, Auntie.” After Tara finished eating, my parents closed up shop. Tara fought to do the cleaning. She was quick and efficient, helping us tidy up in no time. Afterward, my dad offered to walk her home. Tara refused at first, but she couldn’t out-stubborn my dad, so she eventually agreed. However, an hour later, my dad brought her back home, along with a large woven bag. My mom and I looked at each other. We didn’t understand, but we welcomed Tara to sit. My dad drank some water, fuming with righteous indignation. “That woman isn’t human! To force the kid to drop out and work, she kicked her out of the house. Ignored her completely. This child has been living next to a public toilet for two or three months, surviving on picking through trash!” My mom and I were stunned. My mom recovered, grabbing Tara’s hand, tears in her eyes. “Tara, if you don’t mind, stay with Uncle and Auntie. We have a spare bedroom.” My dad comforted her too. “Don’t feel burdened. When you’re successful later, you’ll have plenty of chances to pay us back.” Tara lowered her head, choking back a sob. “Thank you, Auntie, Uncle.” “For what? Small thing.” My mom glanced at me sideways. “No bullying your sister, hear me?” I was speechless. Why would I bully this poor little thing?

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I was three years old when I was diagnosed with selective mutism. My father, a forensic pathologist, immediately filed for divorce. His reasoning was cold, clinical, and simple: Forensics is a field that requires collaboration and communication. He didn’t need a child who couldn’t become a Medical Examiner. Even though my mom clung to the judge’s leg in court, screaming and begging not to divorce, the gavel still came down. The decree was final. My mom wiped her tears, drove me to a street corner, and set me down on the curb. Then, clutching the massive alimony check my dad gave her, she vanished. 1 I was picked up by social services and taken to an orphanage. I was five by then. Although I couldn’t speak, I was acutely aware of the reality: Mom and Dad had thrown me away like garbage. To be honest, the orphanage was way more chill than my house ever was. At home, it was either my dad freezing the room with his icy stare, or my mom crying her eyes out. Sometimes, she’d secretly slap me across the mouth, hoping the pain would shock a word out of me. The more she did it, the deeper my silence grew. When I was eight, a middle-aged woman adopted me. She had a hard face, etched with a permanent grimace, and her smile looked painful, like cracked pavement. Standing near her, you’d swear the temperature dropped ten degrees. But her hands were calloused and warm. So, I took her hand and walked out of that orphanage. My adoptive mom—let’s call her Martha—was always busy. She’d lock me in the apartment for safety. She’d come home exhausted, dragging her feet. But she always made sure I had three square meals, and she’d hold me in her lap to read stories. Still, that cold aura clung to her. For a while after I learned to read, I genuinely suspected Martha wasn’t among the living. Later, I found out why. Martha worked at the crematorium. She was a “removal technician.” A body snatcher. 2 I couldn’t talk, which made normal schooling a nightmare. Special ed was too expensive, so Martha taught me to read and write after her shifts. Slowly, I became literate. But I still couldn’t vibe with kids my age. Martha, afraid I’d rot away locked in my room, started bringing me to work during her night shifts. Her job was grueling and dull. It wasn’t just driving; it was hauling all kinds of “human confetti”—complete bodies, pieces of bodies, fresh ones, ripe ones… She had to babysit the furnaces overnight. Because of my condition, I lacked the natural fear of the dead. Maybe it was just exposure therapy. I saw them as Martha’s clients. I had to treat them with respect. The crematorium staff all knew me. When they worked, they’d toss me little nuggets of trivia. At first, I just watched. Later, I stood at the main table, stitching bodies back together. Maybe it was in my blood. Eventually, I could take one look at a corpse and tell you exactly what made those marks. I got recommended to the PD’s Medical Examiner’s Office as an intern, dealing with even more bizarre “human puzzles.” I still didn’t speak. But the autopsy reports I typed up let countless restless souls finally sleep. I was good. Until the day before my official promotion letter was supposed to drop. My spot was given to someone else. 3 The unit suddenly got a new Assistant ME. Her name was Bella Vance. Bella was a bubbly, “pick-me” kind of girl. On day one, she was already besties with everyone, dragging the squad out for drinks. “Come on, are we brothers or what? Don’t be a little bitch. We’re getting wasted tonight!” The new Captain, Captain Miller, ate it up. “Bella has worked huge cases at City HQ. She’s down here in the trenches to get gritty experience. She’s taking over the lead ME role for our squad.” Miller finished his speech, but the expected applause didn’t happen. One detective looked awkward. “Cap, we already have a dedicated examiner.” Miller glanced at me, dismissive. “Just a temp. Let her go.” The old ME had retired, and I’d been doing the actual work for years. I had a disability, sure, but everyone knew I was a wizard with a scalpel. My promotion vote had been unanimous. I was an intern on paper, effectively doing the job of a lead. Now Bella waltzes in, steals my job, and kicks me to the curb. My teammates, who had all voted for me, spoke up. “Maya has been with us for years. She knows the flow. Swapping her out now feels wrong.” Miller frowned. “What’s wrong about it?” “Bella’s father is Dr. Sterling Vance. The guy is a legend. Every agency fights for him. You got those genes? That pedigree? You think the mute girl can compare to Bella?” Seeing the team waver, Miller softened his tone slightly. “Maya can stay as Bella’s assistant. Support role.” I rolled my eyes. Didn’t say a word. I usually play deaf when dealing with idiots. Besides, who can force a mute girl to kiss ass? 4 After the meeting, Bella cornered me. “You must be Maya. The Captain put me with Lt. Davies. I honestly didn’t know you and the Lieutenant were partners. I’ve known him for years—if something was gonna happen between us, it would have happened by now. Don’t worry.” I assessed Bella’s personality type in exactly 0 seconds. You probably can too. I kept my head down, working, pretending I was deaf. She didn’t get the hint. She slung her arm around my shoulder. “Maya, look, today is for the boys. No girls allowed, you know? Don’t take it personal, I’m just one of the guys. I’m blunt like that.” I was speechless. Not literally, well, yes literally, but also figuratively. This was such low-tier gaslighting. It was embarrassing. I noticed the rest of the squad glancing over, their eyes glued to us. I grabbed a notepad and scribbled a note: [Are you a dude?!!!!!!] I heard a detective snort-laugh nearby. Bella’s face turned bright red. Pure rage. She tried to recover, grabbing my hand. “Maya, it’s my fault. I came in and took your spot. I’ll go tell the Captain to give it back right now!” I yanked my hand away like she was toxic waste and turned my back. Bella looked confused. A teammate stepped in to save her. “Maya has a trauma response to men. She probably thought you were a guy.” Bella’s face went from red to green. She was choking on it. “Maya, I am a girl. The guys just treat me like a bro because I don’t like hanging out with other girls. Too much drama.” I nodded like I finally understood. I wrote another note. [Maybe you and Lt. Davies should have a contest to see who can pee the farthest?] The sound of grown men trying not to explode with laughter filled the room. Bella’s face went from green to purple. 5 Captain Miller treated Bella like royalty. First time Bella went to a crime scene—this “legendary daughter of Dr. Vance”—she took one look at a bloated, decomposing floater and puked her guts out. Lt. Davies literally had to carry her away. Miller defended her. “She’s just adjusting. It’s a new environment.” He comforted her like a toddler. “If you’re feeling sick, just take the week off.” Then he barked at me: “You finish the autopsy report and give it to Bella. She’ll analyze it. I’m sure her analysis will be more professional than yours.” I pretended I didn’t understand English and went to help the team fish out the rest of the body parts. Since Bella arrived, Captain Miller had become a “Bella Supremacist.” Everything started with Bella. If she poured a cup of coffee, Miller acted like she invented caffeine. I suspected that if we weren’t at a murder scene, Miller would have complimented the artistic pattern of her vomit. Naturally, Bella took credit for the report. The detectives weren’t stupid. Seeing their hard work claimed by a nepo baby pissed them off. But Miller was the boss, so they only complained in the breakroom. I sat nearby reading files, my ears tuned in like radar. “Acting like her dad’s reputation is gonna get him a promotion.” “I think Miller wants to make Bella the Captain.” “I saw Miller take Bella to a hotel. Bought her flowers.” “I heard Bella calling Miller… ‘Daddy’.” Snap. The pen in my hand broke. Miller is in his early thirties. He definitely doesn’t have a twenty-something daughter. Spicy.

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I’m the only sane person in my family. My mom is a total yandere, obsessed with forcing her twisted love onto my dad 24/7. My dad has severe mental health issues. If he’s not having a breakdown at home, he’s in an ambulance being rushed to the ER. My brother inherited the “best” of both worlds. He’s a total doomer who hates the world, and his idea of romance is trying to convince the love of his life to jump off a building with him. As the only normal human being capable of stopping them from going full psycho, I have a slight problem. I’m dead. 1 I died, and my soul is currently floating next to my mom. She doesn’t know I’m gone yet. She’s in her corner office, staring at her monitor. The screen shows a live feed of our house—specifically, my dad sitting on the balcony, staring into space. She reaches out, caressing the screen obsessively, and even gently kisses the pixels where his face is. I facepalm. Standard operating procedure. If she were at home, she’d be clinging to him like a koala twenty-four-seven. “Ms. Chang, Sunny hasn’t been home since the day before yesterday. Her phone is going straight to voicemail.” My mom’s cell rings. It’s the housekeeper. Mom doesn’t even look away from the computer screen. “It’s fine. Sunny probably just wants some space. She’s fine.” Sunny is me. I am Sunny. She hangs up, scrolls through her gallery, finds a PDA-heavy selfie of her and Dad, and texts it to Dad’s ex-girlfriend. Yes, you heard that right. Dad’s ex. “Sorry, looks like our love is still unbreakable today.” She hits send with a smug look. Ever since Mom stole Dad from his ex years ago, her hobby has been “force-loving” my dad and then DMing intimate pics to the ex to flex. The ex replies almost instantly. “One day, you’re going to regret everything.” Mom lets out a cold, dismissive laugh and types back: “I’ll worry about that when I regret it.” What Mom doesn’t know is that the ex was triggered. In fact, she was so triggered that my dismembered body is currently chilling in her deep freezer. Today is Day 2 of being dead. 2 My ghost follows Mom back home. She sees Dad and immediately tackles him into a hug. He shoves her away violently. “Get off! Don’t touch me!” Dad roars with rage. For years, Dad has rarely given Mom a decent look. According to my brother, Dad was a rookie idol back in the day. Mom, the embodiment of evil capitalism, saw his pretty face and decided she had to have him. Dad had a girlfriend and tried to resist, but money talks—or rather, it screams. He was forced to submit. “Good. Play hard to get.” The next second, Mom’s face goes dark. She grabs the chain attached to Dad’s ankle and drags him toward the basement. If I were alive, I’d step in, speak up for Dad, act cute, and Mom would let him go for my sake. But I’m not here. Mom drags Dad into the basement. I watch the whole thing, feeling second-hand embarrassment. Damn, Mom eats good. I’m not trying to look, okay? My soul is tethered to her; I can’t leave. I cover my eyes, but… I peek through the fingers. When Mom’s finally done, she drags Dad back to the bedroom. They lie in bed. Dad has his back to her, looking miserable. He’s on the verge of another episode. Sure enough, he suddenly flips over, hands around Mom’s throat, face twisted in madness. “Why are you still alive?!” Mom calmly pulls out a taser from under her pillow. As soon as Dad sees the sparks, he lets go and lies back down like nothing happened. I facepalm again. Is this what they call “survival of the fittest”? Seeing Dad settle down, Mom finally remembers I exist. She calls my phone. “Probably out partying somewhere.” When I don’t pick up, she mumbles a complaint and immediately forgets about me. She snuggles up to Dad, snaps another selfie, and sends it to the Ex. The Ex replies with a photo. It’s my clothes. There’s a little blood on them. Mom obviously doesn’t recognize my outfit. She mutters, “What is this trash?” and goes to sleep hugging Dad. I didn’t have much hope for her anyway. Her brain is 99% Dad, 1% everything else. I probably occupy about 0.01% of her heart. 3 Day 4 of being dead. The house is a chaotic mess. Dad’s episodes are getting more frequent. When I was alive, things were manageable because I was the emotional buffer. He used to dislike me too, but I was persistent. Compared to Mom’s suffocating obsession, a kid wanting to play catch was easier for him to stomach. Mom loved that he loved us, so she never stopped our bonding. Sometimes she’d even drag my brother—who always looked like he was attending a funeral—to join in. We almost looked like a happy family back then. But this time, Dad snapped hard. He even injured my brother. The doctor had to sedate him just to get him to stop screaming. “Mom, it’s been years. Just let him go,” my brother says, collapsing onto the sofa, arm over his eyes. He looks done with life. My brother, Damian, inherited the core traits of both parents. He’s been a nihilist since birth. When I was a kid and asked why he was always sad, he told me his future was pitch black. I said, “That sounds like a great time to nap,” and he dragged me to the roof of a 50-story building to “sleep.” As we got older, he got more unstable. He only tolerated me. Then he met his “Luna”—his soulmate, the one who could heal him. But then his brain rot kicked in, and he decided he was scared she’d stop loving him, so the logical solution was a murder-suicide pact. I told him, “Great, your future is bright now, literally. Because you’ll be walking into the light.” He actually smiled at that. He took Luna on a trip, but they just got back to this madness. Mom glares at him. “Get lost. You don’t understand anything.” Damian doesn’t bother arguing. You can’t fix crazy. He sits up, sighing. “Where’s Sunny?” I’m usually the fixture in the living room. He’s surprised I’m missing. Mom is too focused on Dad’s sleeping form. “She said she was visiting a friend. Still hasn’t come back.” Damian calls me. “The subscriber you have dialed is busy…” He doesn’t call again. He leaves a voice note: Come home soon. Then he walks away. I sigh. Bro is definitely thinking about deleting himself from the server again. Shortly after he leaves, Mom gets a text from the Ex. It’s a photo of me when I was alive. “Sunny looks just like her father.” Mom scoffs. “Psycho.” “She’s his biological daughter. Who else would she look like?” 4 Day 5. Dad wakes up. He’s lucid, not manic. He asks about me. “Where is your daughter?” I suddenly feel hopeful. I whisper in his ear, I’m right here, Dad. He scratches his ear confusedly. Mom explains again. “She’s with friends. Haven’t seen her.” Dad frowns. He snorts coldly. “You better go find her. Don’t let her die out there with no one to collect the body.” I go, “Whoa.” Dad’s intuition is elite. Father-daughter connection is real. Mom explodes. “Julian! Can you say one nice thing?! Do you want her to die? Would you be happy if the kids and I all died?! Sunny is the only good thing in this house! I don’t ask you to love her, but can you not be so heartless to your own flesh and blood?!” Dad realizes he crossed a line. He purses his lips, a flash of guilt in his eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant you should check…” His phone rings, cutting him off. “Hello, is this Damian’s mother? Your son is on a roof dragging a girl with him. You need to come now.” See? Siblings know siblings. Mom is already stressed. Hearing Damian is trying to fly without wings again pushes her over the edge. “Every single day, just trouble…” She sighs, forces herself to calm down, and mutters, “I never realized the house would be this chaotic without Sunny here.” Dad actually agrees with her. “Yeah.” First time hearing them praise me. I’m blushing. Mom grabs her coat. I float along as she rushes to the scene. Damian and Luna are standing on the edge of a 50-story roof. Luna is shaking like a leaf, trying to talk him down. “You brat! What is wrong with you?!” Mom screams the second she bursts onto the roof. I want to tell her to use a gentle parenting voice, but Mom has zero patience for Damian. She thinks he’s useless because he couldn’t win Dad’s heart. Damian just looks back at her with dead eyes, then takes a small step forward, dragging Luna. “Damian! Calm down!” Luna screams, gripping his hand for dear life. Damian looks at her with tragic, puppy-dog eyes. “Luna… my life is a mess.” “I don’t understand why I was born.” “Every time I see my parents, I feel suffocated. I want to live, I do… but when I see them, I lose control.” I really want to say: Can you solve your trauma without killing my future sister-in-law? “Damian, think about Sunny! Do you want your sister to come home and find your cold dead body?!” Luna pleads. Mentioning me actually works. He hesitates. I feel a little proud. Damian looks around. “I brought her here once. I wanted to jump with her. I thought she was pathetic like me.” Thanks for the memory, bro. “I stood here for a long time. When I turned around, she was asleep. I couldn’t do it. She was so small. She didn’t know anything.” Yeah, you dragged me up here at 3 AM. Of course I slept. “So you have to stay calm! Or Sunny will live with the regret of not seeing you one last time!” Luna is the MVP. She talks him off the ledge. Mom sees him step down and immediately rubs her temples. She hands the cleanup to her assistant and turns to leave. Damian calls out. “Mom. Which friend did Sunny go to see?” I get excited. My brother is the reliable one! “We just need to call the friend, realize I’m missing, and trace the timeline!” 5 I did go to see a friend. Well, an internet friend. Her handle was “Tessa.” We met gaming. She was my age. We vibed. Since it was summer break, she invited me to her house in a tourist city. I thought, free vacation, and agreed. But when I landed, I didn’t see Tessa. I saw Evelyn—Dad’s Ex. She greeted me with a surprise smile, asking if I was Julian’s daughter. She seemed gentle, inviting me for coffee. Hearing my dad’s name made me lower my guard. Plus, I was curious about Dad’s past. Who knew this nice lady would drug my latte? Mom racks her brain but can’t remember the friend’s name. She never remembers people she doesn’t care about. Damian, being the tech-savvy depressed kid he is, manages to log into my social media and video calls Tessa. Then, things get creepy. Tessa answers. She says I’m in the shower and can’t video chat. She walks the phone to a bathroom door and knocks. “Sunny, your brother is on the phone.” And from inside the bathroom… my voice answers. “Tell him I’m washing my hair! I lost my phone, I’ll buy a new one tomorrow and call him back!” I shiver. My soul literally shivers. I never met Tessa. Is there a second me? Mom doesn’t overthink it. She says “Be safe” and heads to the office. Damian wants to say more, but the call ends. I float away with Mom. She gets another text from Evelyn. “She must really regret being your daughter.” Attached is a photo of my shoes. Mom doesn’t recognize the shoes either. She sends back another couple pic. “With a dad this handsome? I doubt she has any regrets.” Honestly? A few regrets. I just wanted a normal family. But right now, I’m confused. Why did Tessa lie to my family? I’m dead. Who was in that bathroom?

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I’m Hollywood’s certified “Jack-of-all-trades” darling. Every time I book a role, I download a new skill into my brain like I’m in The Matrix. Play a chef? I’m suddenly whipping up Beef Wellington like Gordon Ramsay. Play an action hero? I walk away with a black belt in Krav Maga. Even when I played a delinquent teen, I mastered the art of hotwiring a car and butterfly knife tricks. My motto: If I’m on set, I’m learning something. The internet is obsessed. They tweet: [Is there anything Harper Moon can’t do?] Until I went on a reality show and brought my childhood best friend along. On filming day, he acted all “sick” and clingy, practically gluing himself to my side. After the 101st time pushing his heavy head off my shoulder, I finally snapped, “If you’re itching that much, go take a shower.” Julian: ? Live Chat: [I finally figured out the one stat point God forgot to give Harper. No wonder they say Julian is like a cat. He’s actively simping for her, and she’s like: ‘Why is this house cat vibrating? Is it broken?’] 1 I’m a B-list actress who recently skyrocketed to #1 on Twitter Trending because of a viral news clip. Here’s what happened: I was at a food truck festival in Santa Monica when I spotted a greasy creep behind me. His hands were wandering, trying to grope the girl standing next to me. Without thinking, I executed a perfect Judo hip toss and slammed him into the pavement. Then I put him in an armbar and dragged him to the nearest cop. There was a crowd. Naturally, everyone had their phones out. They were shook that a petite girl like me had the combat skills of John Wick. The video hit TikTok and blew up instantly. The hashtag #VigilanteHarper took over the internet. The comment section was on fire. People were praising my form and, surprisingly, my face. [Real talk, not only can she fight, but she’s gorgeous. She looks like a porcelain doll but hits like a truck. If I met a girl this pretty and dangerous in high school, I would’ve been down bad for at least three years.] [How does someone look this good with zero makeup? One body slam and she slammed right into my heart.] [Who is she? We need a name!] [Why does she look familiar?] Finally, my small but loyal fanbase arrived in the comments: [Is it possible… that’s our girl Harper Moon? She’s an actress! She hasn’t had her big break yet, but invest now! She’s pretty, can act, and is basically a ninja. Lowkey flex: Harper is a black belt, speaks three languages, sings opera, plays three instruments, paints, and does archery. You won’t find another celeb this over-qualified. Stan now!] Thanks to my fans, the internet started digging. They realized that in my two years of acting, I maxed out my skill tree. One role, one skill. Chef role? Michelin star cooking. Action role? Eight-pack abs and a black belt. Delinquent role? I can now shuffle-dance and pick locks. The internet was stunned: [Is Harper Moon actually a cyborg?] Riding the wave, my new drama aired shortly after. I played a unhinged villainess. The acting was solid, the character was iconic, and I officially leveled up to “It Girl” status. 2 My agency didn’t waste time. Between shoots, they signed me up for a slow-living reality show called Life, Unscripted. The show is famous for being chill, healing, and voyeuristic. No crazy challenges, just vibes. The theme this season? “Companionship.” I invited Julian Vance. In the first episode, the producers asked us to introduce our guest. I opened a photo album for the camera—courtesy of Julian’s mom. “This is my neighbor and childhood bestie, Julian. We grew up together. I’m five years older, but he’s been my shadow since he could walk.” I pointed to a throwback photo. I was in a blue dress, looking like a little princess. Next to me was Julian—round face, big eyes, looking like the Michelin Man’s cute son. He had chocolate smeared all over his mouth, holding a wrapper, licking it like it was gold. “Julian had a massive sweet tooth. One time, he was eating a candy bar and his baby tooth fell out. He started bawling, asking me if he was turning into a grandpa. He was terrified he couldn’t eat ribs or gummies anymore, or play tag with me because ‘old people fall apart.’” I flipped the page to a photo of Julian in his teenage years. The back of a head with neon orange hair. “He had an emo phase. He got obsessed with those Wattpad bad boys. He’d walk around saying stuff like, ‘Say the word, and I’ll burn the world for you.’ Eventually, he insisted on dyeing his hair because ‘all the misunderstood alphas have dyed hair.’ I couldn’t stop him, so I went with him. The stylist botched it. He wanted blonde; he got traffic cone orange. He cried all night saying he looked like a minion.” The producers were cracking up. They asked why the photo only showed his back. “Oh, his eyes were swollen shut from crying. He looked like he went twelve rounds with Tyson. He refused to turn around.” 3 The live chat was losing it. Everyone thought Julian was a lovable idiot. [LMAO help! ‘Say the word and I’ll burn the world?’ That is peak cringe and I love it.] [I’m wheezing. We all had that phase, but the orange hair? Foul.] [Did anyone catch that Harper went with him to get it done? She’s a real one. If my brother did that, I’d roast him. She really spoiled him.] [I bet when Harper played that delinquent role, she used Julian as her muse. You can’t fake that kind of trauma.] While the chat was roasting him, a knock echoed on the door. I opened it to see a familiar, handsome face. 6’2″, broad shoulders, narrow waist, legs for days. Pale skin, sharp jawline, and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. But his eyes… they were soft, smiling eyes. He pushed his glasses up, looked down at me, and said in that velvety voice, “Hey, Moon.” The live chat froze. The sheer visual impact silenced the trolls. Then, the name tag appeared on screen: Julian Vance. [??? Excuse me? That’s the orange-haired crybaby? NOBODY TOLD ME HE GLOWED UP LIKE THIS?!] 4 Even the director paused, mumbling, “That is an aggressively handsome man.” While everyone else was swooning, I walked up to him and frowned. “Jules, aren’t you dying of heatstroke?” I looked at his three-piece bespoke suit. It looked incredible, sure. But it was 95 degrees in Los Angeles today. Julian’s gentle smile twitched. The cracks started to show. He looked down, a flash of grievance in his eyes, and mumbled, “Don’t I look good? Isn’t this your favorite style? Why aren’t you praising me…” “I…” Before I could say ‘you’re gonna melt,’ he pivoted. “Yeah, actually, it is hot. So hot.” He immediately shed the blazer, revealing a crisp white dress shirt. No tie. Top button undone, showing off a sliver of collarbone. The vibe shifted instantly from ‘CEO’ to ‘Hot College Senior.’ He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, exposing veiny forearms. Then, catching me staring at his hands, he smirked subtly. He reached for his collar again. One button. Two buttons… He grit his teeth, looked like he was making a life-or-death decision, and went for the third button. “Stop.” I grabbed his hand. “Any lower and we get demonetized, Jules. This isn’t that kind of website. If you’re hot, go take a shower.” The chat exploded. [OPEN IT! I AM LOOKING RESPECTFULLY!] [This is the premium content I pay my internet bill for!] [LMAO Harper really said ‘Bonk, go to horny jail.’ What kind of website did she think he was aiming for?] [Is nobody gonna mention that Julian is practically doing a striptease for her? I bet 5 bucks he’s in love with her.] 5 A memory flashed in my mind. Back when I was prepping for The Martial Artist, I spent two months in the gym. Julian was there every day. He said he was doing a “summer shred” and needed to manage his physique. He’d send me daily progress pics of his chest, abs, and biceps, claiming he needed me to “evaluate his gains.” I watched him transform from lean to ripped, though he kept it classy—lean muscle, like a Greek statue. After I finished that role and moved on to learning piano for the next one, we stopped going to the gym together. I wondered if he still had that six-pack… Judging by the way his shirt clung to him, yeah. He definitely did. I snapped out of it and noticed Julian’s ears were bright red. I was standing too close. He was wearing long sleeves. He really must be overheating. I stepped back, creating distance. “Still too hot? I’ll lower the AC.” Seeing me back away, Julian’s eyes dimmed with disappointment, but he nodded obediently. [Look at those red ears! Is it the heat? I don’t buy it.] [Neither do I.] [He’s so innocent! A tall, handsome, childhood friend? I ship it. The Leopard and the Cat!] [I accepted this ship in zero seconds.]

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My grandma refuses to listen to reason. On the day of my little brother’s SATs—the biggest exam of his life—the whole family was anxious. We begged her to watch the clock and remind him to grab his Admission Ticket. Instead, while he was brushing his teeth, she took the ticket, crumpled it up like trash, and flushed it down the toilet. Whoosh. Gone. My brother turned his backpack inside out but couldn’t find it. He missed the exam. His future was ruined before it even started. Then, it was my turn. I was up for a massive promotion at my company, a Director position. I warned her a thousand times not to talk to strangers about family business. What did she do? She went around telling everyone I was “vomiting in the middle of the night.” The company heard the rumors, assumed I was secretly pregnant and unmarried, and immediately scratched my name off the candidate list. My dad finally snapped. He decided to send Grandma back to her old house in the countryside. Before leaving, Grandma said she wanted to make a “peace offering” dinner—her famous meatloaf. The kitchen smelled amazing. She brought the steaming dish to the table, smiling like a saint. We were mid-chew when the neighbor started screaming from the window: “Where did my rat poison go?! That stuff is lethal!” Grandma slapped her thigh and yelled, “Oh snap! I thought that was seasoning!” Before she even finished the sentence, our stomachs cramped into knots. We collapsed, foaming at the mouth. We all died. Grandma didn’t shed a tear. She immediately moved her illegitimate son and her old lover into our house and lived happily ever after on our life insurance. But when I opened my eyes again, I was standing at the front door on the exact day Grandma was coming to stay. 1 “Son! Open up! It’s Mom!” The door banged loudly, shaking the frame. Inside, me, Dad, Mom, and my brother Josh all jumped. Josh’s face went pale. He grabbed Dad’s arm, his voice trembling. “Dad! Don’t let her in!” Mom reacted instantly. She ran to the kitchen, grabbed a cleaver, and stormed back. “David! If you let that woman in, I’m divorcing you right now!” Dad, usually a total mama’s boy, looked grim. “Don’t worry, Karen! I’m sending her away!” I realized it instantly—my whole family had reincarnated. In our past life, Grandma demanded to come stay to “help” with Josh’s exams. But the shrewd old woman suddenly acted like a senile fool. In the middle of a heatwave, she switched Josh’s AC to ‘Heat’ while he slept. He woke up with severe heatstroke and almost ended up in the ER. When Mom screamed at her, Grandma played innocent: “I thought he might get cold! I tried to turn it off, but I guess I hit the wrong button!” Dad couldn’t bring himself to kick her out. Then came the ticket flushing incident. Her excuse? “I wanted to sew it onto his jacket so he wouldn’t lose it, but my hand slipped!” Josh missed college. He became a shell of himself. Then she ruined my career with the pregnancy rumors. She even sabotaged Mom. Mom finally got a shot at hosting a prime-time TV slot. She set three alarms. Grandma deleted them all while Mom was showering. Mom missed the broadcast and was blacklisted by the station. Dad finally tried to kick her out, and she fed us poisoned meatloaf. We died in agony. She lived in luxury with her secret family. 2 Seeing Dad about to charge out, I blocked him. “Dad, if you kick her out now, she’ll throw a tantrum on the lawn. We’ll never have peace,” I said quickly. “The neighbors don’t know she’s a monster. They just see a poor old widow. If we leave her out there, she’ll ruin our reputation. Josh needs to focus on his exams; he can’t handle a scandal right now.” Mom’s hand was shaking on the cleaver. “That old witch is evil! I want to chop her up right now to protect you guys! But… going to jail isn’t worth it.” I clenched my fist. “Since we know her playbook, let her in. We’ll counter every move and expose her true colors to everyone.” The family agreed. We opened the door. Grandma, who was mid-fake-sob to the neighbors, froze. I plastered on a smile and grabbed her bags. “Grandma! Sorry, we were cleaning up for you! Mom made your favorite Pot Roast!” Mom forced a smile, tied her apron, and brought out the oily, glistening beef. The neighbors oohed and aahed. “David’s mom is so lucky! Karen is such a good cook!” Grandma’s face dropped. She spat, “She knows I hate fatty meat! She’s doing this on purpose!” Dad stepped up, his voice booming for the whole hallway to hear. “Mom! Stop lying! Whenever there’s a buffet in the village, you pile your plate with meat! You act like a beggar just to make us look bad!” The neighbors started whispering. “Yeah, like that rich lady in building 4 who digs through trash for attention. David and Karen are good people. Stop looking for trouble, old lady.” Defeated by public opinion, the neighbors dispersed. 3 Grandma walked in, fuming because her first scheme failed. The second she saw Josh, she put on a fake smile, reaching out to touch his head. “Since the big exam is coming up, I’ll sleep in Josh’s room! I’ll make sure he doesn’t kick the blankets off and cook him snacks!” I knew exactly what she was planning. I hugged her arm tightly. “Grandma! I missed you so much! Sleep with me instead!” She couldn’t refuse without breaking character. Before bed, she asked me how to use the AC remote. I knew the drill. I deliberately taught her the buttons backward—telling her the ‘Heat’ button was ‘Cool’ and vice versa. In the middle of the night, I cracked my eyes open. Grandma crept out of bed and sneaked into Josh’s room. I heard her muttering: “Josh, don’t blame Grandma. Your horoscope clashes with Zack’s. If you get into college, Zack loses his spot. Blame your mom for birthing you at the wrong time.” Zack was the illegitimate son she had at 40 with the village Handyman, Hank. Hank claimed he found Zack in a dumpster to cover it up. But Zack looked exactly like Hank. The whole village knew, but nobody suspected Grandma because she was “too old.” If we hadn’t died and seen them living together as a happy family in the afterlife, I never would have guessed that Zack—who was the same age as Josh—was actually my Dad’s half-brother. 4 I was lost in thought when Grandma turned around. She saw me standing there in the dark and screamed like a banshee. “AHHH! GHOST!” I didn’t say a word. I turned on a flashlight, pointed it under my chin, and slowly drifted around the living room. Mom and Dad rushed out. I winked. Dad immediately put on a worried face. “Mom, I forgot to tell you. Chloe has severe sleepwalking issues. Don’t wander around at night. She’s harmless with a flashlight, but sometimes she grabs a knife…” Grandma rubbed her twisted ankle, groaning. “She never had this before! You’re trying to scare me away!” She didn’t buy it. The next night, I saw her get up again, muttering, “Is the remote broken? I set it to ‘Heat’ but Josh is fine. I need a new plan.” She grabbed her cane and headed for Josh’s door. I threw off my covers, marched into the kitchen, grabbed a heavy cleaver, and started hacking at a cutting board. Thwack. Thwack. Grandma side-eyed me but kept going toward Josh’s room. The second her hand touched the knob, I charged at her, raising the cleaver. “Chloe! You little psycho! You trying to kill me?!” she shrieked. I stared blankly through her, pulled the knife back, and swung it wildly near her head. Grandma rolled on the floor, screaming for Dad. Dad came out, looking annoyed. “Mom! I told you not to wander! You can’t wake a sleepwalker! Do you want to die?” “I just need to pee!” she lied. “Sleepwalkers don’t care,” Dad said coldly. “Risk it if you want.” Seeing me still holding the knife, Grandma scrambled back to our room on all fours. For the next week, I “sleepwalked” every night, chopping meat in the kitchen. Grandma was too terrified to leave the bedroom. 5 But she was relentless. A few days later, I was waiting for Josh at the school gate. He didn’t come out. I ran to his classroom and found him passed out on his desk. I splashed cold water on his face to wake him up. “Josh! Did you pull an all-nighter?” I asked. He looked dazed. “No, Sis. I slept at 10:30. But the second I got to school, my eyelids felt like lead.” My heart sank. “Did you eat anything Grandma gave you?” “Just breakfast Mom made,” he said. “And a bottle of milk. But the seal was broken.” I asked Mom and Dad. Neither of them had opened it. I immediately bought micro-cameras and hid them in the kitchen. The next morning, the footage showed Grandma grinding sleeping pills into the milk. Mom watched the video, shaking with rage. “That monster! She brought sedatives from the village just to drug her own grandson for that bastard Zack!” We couldn’t kick her out yet. She was too slippery. Instead, we switched the milk. We gave the drugged bottle to Grandma. She slept all day, snoring like a chainsaw. When she woke up, she groggily asked Josh, “Were you tired at school today?” Josh yawned theatrically. “So tired! I almost fell asleep during the mock exam!” Grandma grinned, her wrinkles bunching up. She thought she’d won. We held back our laughter and kept playing along.

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I’m a villain. A total Mean Girl. Ten years ago, I leveraged a family debt to force Julian Sterling to marry me. I forcibly tore him apart from his soulmate, Annie Clarke, and made him hate my guts. He loathed me for a decade. But later, when we were trapped in a catastrophic flood, he swam against the current, exhausting every ounce of his strength to save me. When the water rose again, threatening to swallow us whole, he lifted me high above his head, keeping me safe while the deluge consumed him. The water crept over his lips, then filled his lungs. In his final moment, Julian looked at me with a mix of regret and relief. “Nessa, you have to be brave and live on, even if you’re alone.” “If only… I had been brave enough to refuse you back then.” At the funeral, the Sterlings cursed me. They called me a curse, said I killed their son. They sobbed, saying they never should have forced him to marry me. Everyone said I killed him. Including me. On the night I left the Sterling estate, I sank into a bathtub and let the water take me, drowning myself in penance. But when I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the day Julian’s parents were forcing him to marry me. This time, I’m putting away my delusions. I just hope that all the regrets of his past life can be made right in this one. 1 “I won’t marry Vanessa Winslow. Even if it means giving up the CEO position at Sterling Corp, I won’t do it!” The moment I opened my eyes, I heard that familiar voice. It felt surreal. I turned to look at his face—determined, handsome, alive. Tears instantly blurred my vision. “Nessa, don’t think that giving me those puppy dog eyes will make me soft. I’m not marrying you!” “I love someone else, and it isn’t you!” Julian looked at me with a complicated expression, his voice booming with resolve. Even his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling, were shocked by his intensity. They looked uncomfortable. But me? I laughed. Looking at this Julian, who was acting completely different from the resigned man in the original timeline, I knew. He came back too. We were both back at the turning point of our fate. In the last life, Julian didn’t want to marry me either, but he caved under pressure. He spent the next ten years regretting it. This time, I wasn’t heartbroken by his rejection. I was relieved. I was so incredibly lucky that it wasn’t too late. I turned to the Sterlings and spoke calmly. “Since Julian’s heart belongs to someone else, I won’t force him.” “Uncle, Auntie, let’s settle this today. I’ll accept Julian as my godbrother. From now on, I’m just family. I won’t have any other ideas.” Just like Julian’s refusal, my answer was absolute. I wiped the tear from the corner of my eye and smiled at Julian. “Brother.” He whipped his head around, staring at me in disbelief. The determination on his face vanished, replaced by pure shock. In the last life, I was shameless. I clung to him like a parasite. The Sterlings forced his hand because they owed my family. I got what I wanted. But he lived in hell. For ten years, he drank himself into a stupor every night. No matter how much I dressed up or begged, he wouldn’t touch me. Eventually, I pressured his parents again, saying I wanted an heir. Julian panicked. He renovated a room in the house into a private chapel. He started studying theology, locking himself away. One time, I broke into his sanctuary and stole the wooden prayer beads he cherished—a gift from Annie. When he found out, he begged me with red, swollen eyes. “Give them back. I’ll do anything you want.” I still remember how pathetic and helpless he looked. He closed his eyes in despair and let me have my way with him. What he didn’t know was that I had already cut those beads apart and burned them in the fireplace. 2 Seeing my change of heart, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling let out a sigh of relief. They quickly released a statement announcing me as their goddaughter. From then on, Julian was just my “brother.” To smooth things over, they threw a gala. At the party, I saw her again. Annie Clarke. Julian’s white moonlight. Unlike me—the villainess in designer silk—she wore a simple white dress. No makeup, pure innocence. Just standing there, she drew more eyes than I ever could. Julian frowned and immediately stepped between us, shielding her. He lowered his voice, pleading. “This is your adoption party. Don’t cause a scene, please.” I smiled faintly, but my fingernails dug into my palms. My reputation as a monster was clearly deep-rooted in his mind. In the past, I would have exploded. If he told me not to do something, I’d do it twice. Even that flood happened because I insisted on going to a remote island for our tenth anniversary against his wishes. I was supposed to die there. He took my place. This time, I nodded obediently. “I know, Brother. I’ll sit right here. I won’t cause trouble.” Julian looked surprised, like he was in a fever dream. He opened his mouth but said nothing. The party started, and Julian had to go mingle. Annie seized the moment. She walked over to me with a glass of red wine, stopping a safe three feet away. She looked at me timidly. “Congratulations, Miss Winslow.” Before I could reply, she downed her entire glass in one go. Her pale face instantly flushed pink. No wonder Julian couldn’t forget her. That face was made for pity. “Congrats on what? We’re just siblings now. You’re the one who should be congratulated.” “He’s never stopped loving you. You know that, right?” I grabbed a glass and took a huge gulp. The alcohol burned, suppressing the acid rising in my throat. I exhaled, the smell of wine drifting toward her. She was a lightweight. She stumbled, looking like she was about to faint. Julian sprinted over like an Olympian and slammed into my right arm. Red wine splashed all over my couture gown. My makeup was ruined. He caught Annie, his eyes burning with rage. “Vanessa! You promised me! You said you wouldn’t cause trouble!” His accusation was loud. He completely ignored the fact that I had been sitting there quietly the whole time. But I got it. I had a rap sheet a mile long. Why would he trust me? I used to bully Annie constantly. She was his secretary, but I treated her like my personal servant. I slapped her once. I made her run across the city for dumplings. In my last life, the more he loved her, the more crazy jealous I got. I forgot that cruelty only pushes people closer together. Like right now. Annie leaned against Julian’s chest, trying to explain through her dizziness. “No, Mr. Sterling… I drank too fast. I got dizzy.” Julian’s face was dark. He cut her off. “You don’t need to protect her. Vanessa needs to learn to take responsibility for her actions!” Seeing him defend her so fiercely broke me. I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing back the tears. I bowed to Annie. “I’m sorry. For everything I did in the past. I won’t bother you again.” 3 When I looked up, I met Julian’s gaze. His eyes were stormy, unreadable. I smiled calmly. “Is that enough, Brother? If we’re done here, I’m leaving.” I didn’t wait for a response. I turned and walked away. The second my back was to them, liquid ran down my face. I couldn’t tell if it was wine or tears. It felt like a boulder was crushing my chest. The next day, I had Annie transferred back to Julian’s department. I told the Sterlings I was moving out. I used to be shameless about living in their villa just to be near Julian. In the last life, I stayed there for ten years. Now, it was time to go. The Sterlings hesitated. “Nessa, we really wanted you as a daughter-in-law, but Julian…” “It’s okay, Auntie. Julian deserves someone he loves. Annie is great. If he marries her, he’ll be happy.” Julian, this is the last thing I can do for you. I wheeled my suitcase out the front door. And ran right into him. Julian had just come back from the office. He stared at me, his expression complex. When he saw the suitcase, his voice dropped an octave. “It’s late. Where are you going with that?” I stood before him, the obsessed look in my eyes completely gone. “Brother, I want to live on my own.” “No! I forbid it!” He rejected the idea instantly. I paused. I expected resistance, but not this fast. It was just like when he rejected my love in the past. “Impossible. Don’t even think about it.” He coughed, realizing he was too agitated. “I promised your parents I’d take care of you.” “You live here. No one is kicking you out.” I looked at him in surprise. In the past, he tried everything to get rid of me. I was the one who refused to leave. But now that we were “siblings,” maybe he felt a duty. He just hated the idea of marrying me. “No thanks. I prefer being alone.” Julian froze. He didn’t expect me to say no. I walked past him. When I was out the gate, he finally snapped. “Vanessa, do you have to force me like this?” I turned back, confused. Julian’s fists were clenched, his body shaking with humiliation and anger. He slumped his shoulders, looking at me with dead eyes. “I won’t marry Annie. Are you happy now?” I stared at him, stunned. He let out a scornful laugh. “You brought Annie up in front of my parents on purpose, didn’t you? To get this result?” “You knew they wouldn’t let me marry a woman from a lower class, so you provoked them!” “Vanessa, your heart is filthy.” 4 My brain buzzed. Static noise. My heart felt like someone was wringing it out like a wet towel. Julian looked utterly defeated. “No… I didn’t mean…” He didn’t let me finish. He stumbled up the stairs and slammed the door. I watched him go, hating myself. Why does everything I do make it worse? I don’t blame him. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I did too much evil in my past life. No one trusts a villain on a redemption arc. I blinked back the tears and left the estate. I checked into a high-end hotel. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Julian drowning. The sensation of water filling my lungs… I knew it too well. Knock, knock. I jumped. I opened the door to find Annie standing there. She was wearing a housekeeping uniform. “Miss Winslow? Do you need turndown service?” I gaped at her. “Aren’t you a secretary at Sterling Corp? Why are you a maid?” Annie gave a bitter smile and shook her head. She walked in to clean. While wiping a table, she accidentally sliced her finger on my eyebrow razor. Blood dripped. Without warning, she fainted. I froze. Before I could check on her, a massive force slammed into me. I flew backward, my lower back hitting the corner of the desk hard. I bit my tongue to keep from screaming. Julian was there. He looked at Annie with panic, wrapping her finger in a tissue and scooping her up. When he looked at me, his eyes were full of disgust. “So this is why you moved out? Vanessa, does your word mean nothing?” “I promised I wouldn’t marry her, and you still want to torture her?” “She was fired from the Group. She’s scrubbing toilets in a hotel. Why can’t you let her go?” He stopped yelling and looked at me with exhaustion. “What do I have to do to make you stop?” Hearing his hoarse accusation, I trembled. My eyes burned. I laughed softly. “If I told you I had nothing to do with this, would you believe me?” Julian’s face was ice cold. He shook his head slowly. “Last chance, Vanessa. I hope this is the last time.” “Or else, don’t blame me for forgetting our families’ friendship.” He turned and left. I clutched my bruising back, drained of energy. I watched the empty doorway, and the tears finally fell. He will never believe me. Leaving is the only option. It’s the only way to stop hurting him and the woman he loves. I packed my bag and checked out. I hailed a rideshare to the airport. At a red light, my car pulled up next to Julian’s. He saw me. He turned his head away calmly, avoiding my gaze. He rolled up the window, sealing us in two different worlds.

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Because I didn’t rank first in the whole school on my finals, Momma locked me in the woodshed and starved me for seven days and seven nights. In the end, I starved to death. Momma just smiled, looking relieved. “Finally dead. Now I can focus on birthing my son in peace.” When I opened my eyes again, I was that newborn son. They named me Hunter. This time, I became their living nightmare. 1 My name was Penny. Nobody in my family liked me. When I was three, a traveling psychic came to our porch. Momma grabbed him, desperate to know when she’d get a boy. The psychic took one look at her, frowned, and dropped a bomb that turned everyone pale. He said, “Give it up. You’re destined to have only one child in this life.” Momma’s face went cold. “What if that child… wasn’t around anymore?” The psychic shrugged. “Just treat the kid you have right.” Momma’s face went dark. She looked at me with pure hatred. She blamed her lack of a son entirely on me. “If you died, maybe I could have a boy.” I was too little to understand. I just thought Momma looked scary, so I reached out for a hug. She slapped my hands away. When I was five, Momma took me to the city on a train. She “accidentally” left me at the station. I screamed until my throat bled. A nice lady found me, and it took two weeks for the police to get me back home. At six, Momma locked me in the house. A fire started out of nowhere. I pounded on the door until my knuckles cracked. A firefighter pulled me out just in time. Momma just scoffed, muttering about people being “nosy busybodies.” When I was seven, Momma got pregnant. She paid good money for a scan that promised it was a boy. She was ecstatic. I was happy for her, too. I knew if I had a little brother, Daddy and Nana might finally be nice to Momma. But every time Momma rubbed her belly, she remembered the psychic’s words. She couldn’t relax. She spent her days figuring out how to get rid of me. That night, she found an excuse—my grades—to deny me dinner and locked me in the woodshed. “If you ain’t number one, you don’t eat.” “Starve until you learn.” And that’s how I died. Alone in the cold, hungry for seven days. In my last moments, my mouth was dry as dust, and every organ in my body shut down. After I died, my soul lingered. I watched them burn my small body and toss the ashes onto a dirt pile like trash. Momma rubbed her belly, cooing softly, “Momma only needs you, baby boy.” “That wretched girl is gone. You’re gonna be healthy. The psychic said one kid, and now, there’s only one left.” I drifted for eight months until my soul began to fade. In my final second, I saw Momma being wheeled into surgery. Outside stood Nana, who used to call me “waste of space,” and Daddy, who never looked at me. They were laughing, chatting, waiting for the Prince. I felt a blinding light, and I didn’t want to watch anymore. I let go. Then I opened my eyes. I was a baby. Nana took me from the nurse, grinning so hard her dentures nearly slipped. “It’s a boy!” Daddy’s eyes lit up like Christmas lights. He stuffed a thick wad of cash into my swaddle. “The Miller line is safe! We’ll call him Hunter. He’s gonna be the best of us.” Momma, lying weak on the bed, squinted her eyes in joy. “Bring me my baby boy.” The second she saw my face, she flinched. “Why… why does he look exactly like Penny did when she was born?” Nana snapped, “Shut your mouth! Don’t speak that bad luck on him. All babies look the same. You’re talking crazy.” Daddy sneered. “You lost your mind in labor? He’s way better looking than that little mistake ever was.” My face was red and scrunchy, eyes barely open. Of course they wouldn’t admit the resemblance. When I was born a girl, they left the hospital immediately. They never really looked at me. Nana stomped home in a huff that day. Daddy went “out of town for work.” I snapped out of the shock of rebirth. The smiles around me were sickeningly sweet. “I’m giving my antique gold chain to my grandson.” “Daddy’s gonna give you the world, son.” “Our family finally has a legacy.” I never got an ounce of love before. Now I knew why. It was just because I was a girl. Since God gave me a second chance—and made me their precious golden boy—I was going to make sure they enjoyed every second of it. 2 Because Momma birthed a son, she got treated like a queen. Nana slaughtered the old laying hens to make soup for her and waited on her hand and foot. Daddy stopped being stingy. He doubled the grocery money. Our rundown trailer felt alive for the first time. At the one-month mark, Daddy threw a huge backyard BBQ. He stood in the middle of the crowd, holding a beer. “Thank y’all for coming to celebrate my boy. Eat up, drink up!” Momma put me in the cradle so she could eat. Her body was weak, but if she didn’t hold me, I screamed. My wails drowned out the conversation. Defeated, Momma had to hold me while she ate one-handed. She couldn’t bear to let me cry. She just had to suffer. Soon, I turned one. Daddy threw a massive bash. Folks from three towns over came. I was dressed in a little red suit, held tight in Momma’s arms. Her eyes never left me, terrified someone would snatch me away. She told everyone, “Ain’t my Hunter handsome?” Before the party started, we did the “Choosing” ceremony—a superstition to predict my future. Nana laid out five items: an action figure, a shovel, a book, a wad of cash, and a red string. Momma set me on the table. The whole crowd watched. Momma kept chanting, “Pick the book, pick the book.” I gurgled, looking around. I crawled over and grabbed the book. Momma shrieked, “I told you! My Hunter’s a genius!” Nana clapped so hard she hit the table. “He’s going to Harvard!” Everyone started blowing smoke up my parents’ asses. Right then, I kicked my leg out. I aimed for the sewing scissors sitting next to the red string and knocked them right into Nana’s thigh. If I had the strength, I would’ve stabbed her myself. “AHHH!” She screamed like a banshee. Everyone saw me do it. Momma rushed to pick me up. Daddy got mad because his mama was bleeding. He grabbed my shoulder, his voice stern. “Hunter! What the hell?” Nana, clutching her bleeding leg, yelled back, “Don’t you yell at my grandbaby!” Momma snatched me back. “He’s a baby, Earl! He don’t know any better!” I leaned into Momma’s chest, fighting the urge to laugh. See? When you’re the favorite, people make excuses for your violence. With his mom hurt, Daddy was still fuming, looking at me suspiciously. I needed to cover my tracks. I looked right at Daddy, opened my mouth, and chirped. “Dada. Dada.” The whole room went dead silent. Then, chaos. “Earl! Your boy is talking! He’s a prodigy!” “He called you Dada! Get the camera!” “Speaking at one? That’s genius level.” That one word erased all of Daddy’s anger. Nana forgot the pain in her leg. She was grinning like she’d won the lottery. Everyone praised me. Daddy got lost in the ego boost. He started pounding shots, his face turning purple. Momma took me aside to keep me away from the alcohol fumes. Her eyes were shining. She whispered, “Hunter, baby, look at me. Do you know who I am?” “Say Mama.” “Hunter, I’m your Mama.” I opened my mouth. I looked deep into her hopeful eyes. “Stupid Bitch. Stupid Bitch.” Nana, hobbling by, burst out laughing. “‘Stupid Bitch!’ That’s my boy! He knows what to call you already!” She hung the gold chain around my neck. The pendant was a dragon. “My little dragon. You’re gonna be king of this hill.” Nana hugged me. Momma looked dazed. “Stupid Bitch” was what Daddy called her every single day. She comforted herself. “He’s just repeating Earl. It means he’s smart.” “My son learns so fast.” “That’s my boy.” 3 Daddy could drink, but tonight he was gone. People say the truth comes out when you’re wasted. My Daddy’s brother—Uncle Buck—was absolutely hammered. He stumbled over to me, face bright red. He stared at me for a solid minute, then spun around and grabbed Daddy’s arm. “Earl… why the hell does your boy look exactly like your dead girl?” The room dropped ten degrees. Momma and Nana’s faces went gray. Daddy was slow to process. “Bullshit. My girl is dead. This is my son. Hunter. He’s the legacy. You don’t know crap.” But Uncle Buck kept looking. “I’m tellin’ ya. I held Penny when she was one. Identical. Earl… you just rebirthed your daughter.” Nana lost it. “You’re just jealous ‘cause your wife only spits out girls!” Uncle Buck wasn’t having it. He hated that Daddy was the favorite now. He snorted and spat a mouthful of beer right in Nana’s face. Daddy roared, “You’re just bitter because my line continues and yours ends with you!” “You ain’t man enough to make a boy!” That hit a nerve. Uncle Buck smashed his beer bottle on the floor. Glass shards flew everywhere. Momma shielded me, whispering, “Don’t be scared, Hunter. Momma’s here.” Uncle Buck whipped out his phone. He dug up an old video. “Look! I got a video from years ago. The kid looks exactly like Penny. I’m telling you, you killed that girl, and now she’s back for revenge.” “Earl, you’re cursed!” “Hahahaha!” Watching Uncle Buck laugh like a maniac… honestly? He wasn’t wrong. Nana glanced at the video. She saw the resemblance. The most damning part? We both had a mole right above our left eyebrow. But I was Hunter. I didn’t need to explain. They would do it for me. Momma said, “So what? Genetics are genetics. Hunter looks stronger than Penny ever was.” Nana said, “They came from the same womb, of course they look alike.” Daddy didn’t bother with logic. He just wanted to shut Buck up. Drunk Daddy was strong. He threw a haymaker and knocked Uncle Buck out cold. Buck ended up in the hospital. Daddy spent a few days in the county jail. Afterward, Momma scolded him. “Now Hunter can’t get a government job with you having a record.” Daddy spat on the ground. “Government jobs pay peanuts. Hunter’s gonna be a CEO.” Hah. The confidence. 4 Time flew. I was three, the center of the universe. I bullied them relentlessly, and life was good. I knocked over dinner plates? They said, “He’s got spirit! Nobody will push him around!” I punched them in the face? They said, “Look at those little muscles! So cute!” I threw cash in the trash? They said, “He treats money like dirt, that means he’s gonna be filthy rich!” Every time I acted out, they spun it into a compliment. I looked at my chubby toddler body and sighed. “Revenge is hard when you’re three feet tall.” I just needed to grow up faster. But an opportunity came early. When I was four, I noticed Nana kept trying to send me outside to play with the neighbors. Before, Nana hated the neighbor kids. She used to say, “Hunter is gonna be a boss. Don’t let those trailer trash kids rub off on him.” She thought I didn’t remember. But I remembered everything. Even the nasty things she said in my past life. Something was up. Nana dragged me to the playground and tried to rush back home. I slipped away and circled back to our house. I heard noises coming from inside. Disgusting noises. My stomach churned. I never expected Nana, at 60, to be getting busy. It was shocking, even for someone who had lived twice. I calmed myself down. This was perfect. I sprinted back to the playground, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Help! Help! Bad man in the house! Nana is screaming for help! Neighbors, come quick!” “I hear Nana crying! Help!” My screaming alerted the whole trailer park. People grabbed brooms, bats, whatever they could find, and ran to my porch. I fell to my knees, crying fake tears. “Please save my Nana!” The mob rushed into the yard. They didn’t hear screaming, but I was so convincing they kicked the door down. They stormed the bedrooms. And there was Nana, tangled in the sheets with the town loner—a guy known for never bathing. They scrambled to cover up. The neighbors froze. I seized the moment. I ran in and started hitting the man. “You bad man! You hurt my Nana! I’ll kill you!” I was small, so I “tripped” and fell on my butt, wailing in pain. The Mayor picked me up. “Shameless. With the grandbaby right there.” Just then, Daddy and Momma came running home from the fields, holding hoes. “Momma! We’re coming!” Daddy yelled. He burst into the room. He stood there, brain short-circuiting. Then he started shaking. I hugged Daddy’s leg. “Daddy! Nana was being bullied! Kill the bad man!” Daddy roared and threw the hoe at the lovers. They dodged, barely. He crouched down to hug me. “Don’t look, son. Daddy will handle it.” Nobody suspects a child of lying. Especially a child who tells the truth.

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My mother’s favorite hobby is playing the rich housewife. Freshman year of college, she sent me exactly two hundred dollars a month. Rain or shine, never a penny more. But to the outside world? She claimed she was wiring me two grand a month. Whenever people asked why I dressed in thrift store finds despite my “generous” allowance, she’d sigh and say, “Oh, Summer is just so frugal. She saves every penny for a rainy day.” Then came my little cousin Tyler’s birthday. Mom bragged to the whole family that I was going to chip in two months of my “allowance” to give Tyler a massive surprise. Privately, she told me to fake a serious illness so I could skip the party and save her the embarrassment of my empty wallet. I agreed. But on the day of Tyler’s birthday, I didn’t stay in bed. I showed up dressed to the nines, walked right up to the head table, and slapped down a thick envelope of cash as a birthday gift. My Aunt Beth’s jaw hit the floor, grinning like she’d won the lottery. My mother, however, looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Summer! Where the hell did you get that money?!” 1 “Mom, what are you talking about? I saved it from my allowance, obviously! You know that. Why do you look so shocked?” I waved her off casually and turned to chat with Aunt Beth. “Right? Sis, I thought you were just hyping it up, but I didn’t think she’d actually drop this much cash on Tyler!” Aunt Beth was beaming. “Summer, you are such a sweetheart! Dropping two grand on Tyler’s ninth birthday? You’re making us look so good!” From the moment I pulled out that cash, Aunt Beth’s attitude did a complete 180. Before, she used to look at me like I was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe. Now? She was practically glued to my side. Tyler was turning nine. It wasn’t a milestone birthday. Everyone knew this party was just a cash grab. Aunt Beth did this every year. Usually, people would slip a twenty or a fifty in a card and call it a day. This time, I dropped two thousand dollars cold hard cash. She was ecstatic. If the restaurant wasn’t so crowded, she probably would have done a backflip. My mother’s face was still frozen in shock. Her mouth twitched, desperate to ask more questions. But with Aunt Beth hovering, she had to swallow her panic. “Summer, honey, I’m going to make the rounds at the other tables. I’ll be back to chat in a few!” Aunt Beth grabbed her wine glass and fluttered away. The second she was gone, Mom grabbed my wrist, her voice a harsh whisper. “Where did it come from?” “Mom, seriously? Is your memory going?” I didn’t lower my voice. In fact, I turned the volume up a notch so the whole table could hear. “I told you, I saved it from my allowance! That’s what you told everyone, right? How could you forget what you said a few days ago?” The table was packed with Mom’s side of the family. Aunt Karen (the eldest), Aunt Sarah (the second eldest), my parents, and me. Ten people squeezed into a booth at a mid-tier Italian chain restaurant. It was cramped, hot, and perfect for my plan. I had a captive audience. Just as I hoped, everyone heard me. Jessica, Aunt Karen’s daughter and my older cousin, looked at me with pure envy. She nudged Aunt Karen. “Mom, look at Summer’s lifestyle! When I was in college, I felt guilty ordering guac at Chipotle! She drops two grand without blinking. Why couldn’t you be generous like Aunt Diane?” “Jessie, look at us, then look at them. We aren’t in the same tax bracket,” Aunt Karen snapped, though she looked annoyed. “Besides, Summer got into Stanford. You didn’t even finish community college. You expect me to fund your lifestyle?” Aunt Karen scolded Jessica, then turned her hawk eyes onto my mother. “Diane, I remember you guys were renting an apartment two years ago. You just bought that new house last year with a mortgage. Where are you getting the cash to fund Summer like this?” Mom froze. She stammered, trying to find an excuse. “Well, you know what they say. You can’t skimp on education. We’ll eat ramen if it means Summer lives comfortably!” She let out a nervous laugh, shoving a breadstick into her mouth to avoid talking. She wanted to change the subject and interrogate me later. I wasn’t going to give her the chance. I glanced at Aunt Sarah, whose face was stiff and pale. I dropped the bomb casually. “By the way, Mom? I remember when we bought the new house, you said our savings were locked in a CD (Certificate of Deposit) and couldn’t be touched, so you borrowed ten grand from Aunt Sarah to cover closing costs.” “Since you’re sending me two thousand a month, we clearly have cash flow. Why don’t you pay Aunt Sarah back? It’s been a while, I don’t want you to forget.” 2 “Oh my god, Diane! I totally forgot about that!” Aunt Karen slapped her forehead, jumping on the bandwagon immediately. “Look at you guys now. You clearly aren’t hurting for cash. Pay Sarah back!” “Sarah isn’t like you. Her son still needs a down payment for a house! He’s stuck renting! You borrowed that money ages ago.” “We all know Sarah’s had a rough year. If you have extra, you should pay her back with interest. It’s only right.” “Exactly! Aunt Diane, everyone is here to witness it. Just Venmo her now!” Jessica chimed in, loving the drama. Mom’s face turned a shade of green I’d never seen before. My dad, hearing this, stared at the floor like the pattern on the carpet was the most interesting thing in the world. Aunt Sarah and her family hadn’t said a word. From the moment I walked in wearing a designer dress, Aunt Sarah looked like she swallowed a lemon. She’s usually the quiet, nice one. When Mom claimed her money was locked up, Sarah lent her ten grand without hesitation, even though her own son was trying to plan a wedding. Now, her son’s wedding was on hold because they couldn’t afford a house. The fiancée’s family was demanding a down payment, which Sarah couldn’t provide because my mother had her money. Sarah had asked for it back multiple times. Mom always used the “It’s locked in a 5-year CD” excuse. Sarah was too polite to push. But seeing my “wealth” today broke her. “Karen, Jessie, it’s not that simple,” Mom finally spoke up, sweating. “Ten grand isn’t ten bucks. I told you, it’s in a long-term CD. The bank penalties are huge if I pull it out early.” “I was stupid, I locked it away for five years! Sarah, if you’re not in a rush, just wait a few more years. I promise I’m good for it!” “Years? How many years do I have left to live?” Aunt Sarah finally spoke. Her voice was ice cold. The temperature at the table dropped twenty degrees. “Exactly! Sarah needs that money now,” Aunt Karen pressed. Mom tried to dodge again. “Okay, okay! I’ll go to the bank next week and see what I can do. Let’s just eat! It’s a celebration!” She tried to escape. I blocked the exit. “Mom,” I said loudly. “Didn’t Dad get a huge project bonus last month? Like, thirty grand? Just use that to pay Aunt Sarah. You can transfer the rest later.” 3 All eyes snapped to my mother. She snapped. She stood up and slapped me across the face. Hard. “You little liar! What are you talking about?! When did your father get a bonus?! I haven’t disciplined you in a while and you’re making up stories!” “If you don’t explain where you got that money right now, you aren’t leaving this table!” The slap silenced the room. Even Uncle Mike and Aunt Beth, who were mingling at the back, rushed over. “Diane! What is going on? It’s Tyler’s birthday, don’t make a scene!” “This is family business, Mike! Stay out of it!” Mom screamed, her face red. She grabbed my arm, trying to drag me out. She knew the “bonus” was a lie, but she needed to get me away from Aunt Sarah before the web of lies collapsed. I wasn’t going anywhere. I stumbled backward and deliberately fell to the floor. “Mom! Why are you hitting me?!” I wailed. “Diane, are you crazy?” Aunt Karen tried to help me up, but Mom shoved her away. “Don’t touch her! This brat is out of control! Who knows what shameful things she’s been doing at college to get that money! I’m going to break her legs!” “Shameful?” Jessica scoffed. “Aunt Diane, Summer got into Stanford. She’s on the Dean’s List. We all saw the acceptance letter. What’s shameful about that?” “Exactly,” Aunt Beth chimed in, pulling me behind her. “Summer is the golden child. Why are you treating her like a criminal?” “You people don’t get it!” Mom was panting now. “I don’t give her two thousand a month! I barely give her enough to eat! Where did she get two grand to give to Tyler? Look at her dress! That’s Gucci! Unless she’s selling her body, where did that money come from?!” Silence. Even Aunt Beth let go of my arm. In my mother’s eyes, my reputation meant nothing compared to her hoarding Aunt Sarah’s money. She would rather brand me a prostitute than pay back a loan. So be it. “Summer… is that true?” Aunt Beth asked, her voice changing. She looked at me with a mix of pity and disgust. “If that’s how you got the money… take it back. I can’t accept that. Tyler is innocent. I don’t want him catching… whatever you might have.” She pulled the envelope out of her purse and shoved it back into my hand, wiping her fingers on a napkin afterward. The other relatives scooted their chairs away. Mom let out a manic laugh. She snatched the envelope from me and stuffed it into her bra. “It’s okay, Summer. Mommy doesn’t judge you. Just tell the truth and we can fix you.” I wasn’t nervous. I smirked. “Mom, that’s rich coming from you. You gave me the money. Why are you pretending you didn’t? Just to avoid paying Aunt Sarah back? Are you seriously destroying your daughter to save ten grand?” “Summer! Stop lying! I’m going to kill you!” Mom grabbed a heavy bread basket—the metal kind—and raised it to smash my head. I calmly pulled out my phone and held it up. “Stop! Look! I have proof the money came from Mom!” 4 Everyone froze. Mom hesitated for a second, then swung the basket anyway. Uncle Mike caught her arm just in time. “Diane! Stop! Tyler is watching! Do you want the cops called?” “She says she has proof. Let’s see it!” Mom was forced into a chair, chest heaving. “Proof? What proof? I have my bank records! She can’t fake reality!” “Diane, if she didn’t get it from you, where did she get it? Just look at the phone,” Aunt Karen said, suspicious. “If she’s doing… bad things… we need to know.” “Yeah,” Aunt Karen sighed. “Going to the city changes people. I’m glad Jessica stayed home.” Jessica looked smug. This was the moment she’d been waiting for. The downfall of the perfect cousin. “Fine!” Mom yelled. “Look! I’m going to expose this ungrateful brat!” I unlocked my phone and handed it to Uncle Mike. “Uncle Mike, look. These are the transfers from Mom. Dates, times, amounts.”

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I suddenly started seeing numbers floating above the heads of everyone at my elite prep school. My fiancé, who treats me like I’m invisible? [99] My cold, aloof lab partner, the Campus King? [99+] As the designated “Villainess” of this story, I have plenty of self-awareness. Those numbers are definitely hate scores. That is, until the delicate “White Lotus” Heroine discovered I was secretly funding her tuition. The number above her head instantly exploded into a bright red [100+]. At the same time, a barrage of livestream comments—like a Twitch chat—detonated in front of my eyes. [Omg Wifey! She’s so good, so cute. Her skin is so pale, if you bit her it would stay red for hours, right?] [LMAO, our baby girl really thinks her fiancé likes the Heroine? That man has been down bad for Wifey since day one. Just touch his face, watch him melt.] I couldn’t believe it. I reached out and gently poked my fiancé’s cheek. The next second, the guy who usually has a temper like a stick of dynamite suddenly went silent. The number above his head glitched out like crazy. It finally settled on [∞]. [Hehe, Wifey knows what that symbol means, right? My love for you is infinite…] 1 When the numbers first appeared, I was begging Julian, the school’s golden boy, to tutor me. Even though this is a private prep school for the 1%, the academic pressure is insane. Most kids have been building their Ivy League portfolios since freshman year. If they’re staying stateside, they’re already doing college-level work. And then there’s me. The daughter of a “New Money” tycoon. My dad used his checkbook to brute-force my way in. I’m constantly drowning in coursework. I’m not exactly a genius, so I had to beg Julian—wealthy, brilliant, and untouchable—for help. Julian was in the middle of reading some obscure foreign medical journal. He frowned, his long, pianist fingers taking my tragic exam paper. He started explaining from the very first multiple-choice question. I was zoning out, listening to the whispers in the classroom. I couldn’t hear the exact words, but I knew they were roasting me. Julian’s dad is the Mayor. His grandpa is some retired D.C. bigshot. His mom owns a massive pharmaceutical empire. Julian himself already has patents pending. Nobody dares to disturb him when he’s reading. Except me, the tacky rich girl with nothing but money. I didn’t want to bother him. I actually tried to hire a few scholarship students to tutor me. I offered to pay for their tuition, living expenses, textbooks, and even nutrition supplements. All I asked was for them to explain a few math problems when they were free. My dad might be uneducated, but he respects smart people. He’s obsessed with my grades. But somehow, my private offer got leaked. The school Discord server tore me apart. Hundreds of messages. They said I had zero self-awareness, clinging to Julian. When he ignored me, I tried to buy the scholarship kids. The other rich kids called me condescending. “Who wants her charity? We all have money.” So, publicly, I announced I stopped the funding. But privately? I was still secretly sponsoring one girl who was in the same grade as me. 2 The noise in the classroom got louder. I felt eyes burning holes in my back. It felt like a physical heat. My neck prickled. My ears turned hot. Does everyone love Julian that much? I felt like I was about to spontaneously combust from the stares. Afraid of getting roasted online again, I hesitated. “Julian, maybe I should just study by myself…” I’d ask him later when fewer people were around. But the second I spoke, a bright [98] popped up over his head. I rubbed my eyes. “Julian, there’s a number on your head.” “If you don’t want to listen, just leave. Don’t make excuses,” Julian snapped, running a hand through his hair, revealing his perfect forehead. His side profile was sharp, nose straight—literally a masterpiece. “No, it’s not that I don’t want to listen, it’s just…” I grabbed his hand in a panic. I wanted to tell him I needed this. He’s the only one who explains things simply enough for my smooth brain to grasp. But his face flushed red, and he shook my hand off. His wet, puppy-dog eyes glared at me in disbelief. The number above his head flickered between [98-99]. “If you want someone else to teach you, then stop messing with me.” Am I that scary? I looked around. Everyone had numbers. 50, 82, 95… I went silent. I took a deep breath and awkwardly let go of Julian’s wrist. Okay, so the numbers represent Hate. Makes sense. Nobody here really likes me. I pouted. My mood tanked. Suddenly, a loud voice cut through the crowd. Chase was surrounded by his entourage. He was leaning back in his chair, uniform tie loose, looking like he didn’t care about anything. I let out a breath. Good, my “fiancé” didn’t see me. After my dad hit the jackpot, he somehow connected with the ultra-elite Sterling family. Chase Sterling. His name sounds preppy, but his personality is pure phosphorus—highly flammable and toxic. I know he looks down on me. He usually ignores me completely. When I first transferred here, I was eating instant noodles in the stairwell when I heard him talking. “Chase, I heard your fiancée, Winnie, transferred in. Want me to look out for her?” a guy asked. Through the crack in the door, I saw Chase leaning against the railing. His voice was deep, magnetic, and dripping with impatience. “Look out for what? Her dad put you next to her because he’s afraid she’s too dumb for the curriculum. She’s so high-maintenance.” “If I drove my car over 60 she’d probably cry. I’m gonna wreck this engagement sooner or later.” “If you want to babysit her, you can have her.” Excuse me? I was fuming. I leaned too close to the door. Creak. I stumbled out, crashing right into Chase’s line of sight. He had a cigarette between his lips, looking arrogant as hell. But when he saw me, he froze. I turned and ran. Behind me, someone laughed. “Who was that?” “Your fiancée, Mr. Sterling.” “Oh.” Chase held the cigarette until it burned his fingers. He flinched and tossed it in the trash. “I’m quitting.” She looked so small. Soft and pale. If we kissed, would the smoke make her cough? … Thinking about the trash he talked back then made me angry all over again. Dad said to wait a bit on the engagement. So, I kept my distance. Chase seemed bored until Claire transferred into our class. Suddenly, he was energized. She was the only girl he’d talk to. Right now, he had a [98] over his head as he glanced at me from across the room. His tongue pressed against his cheek, a sharp canine tooth flashing. I shivered. So scary. If he hates the engagement, why hasn’t he canceled it? Does he want to torture me first? … “Stop looking at her. Or I’ll gouge your eyes out.” Chase stared blankly at the girl in front of him. Her clothes were faded, but her vibe was clean and sharp. It was just her eyes—always looking at things she couldn’t have. “What’s wrong with looking?” Claire looked down at her worn-out sneakers, her tone light. “You’re jealous, aren’t you? She won’t even look at you, but she’s secretly sponsoring me. She texts me encouraging messages every night.” Chase thought about how Winnie sent Claire cute photos of her day. Meanwhile, Chase had been posting on his story for a year about being “lonely” and wanting a travel buddy. Winnie never liked a single post. She probably had him muted. He wanted to scream. 3 During the long break, I ran into Claire outside the bathroom again. She was washing her hands, head down. Long lashes, gentle almond eyes, loose strands of hair. She looked perfect. Almost too perfect. Like she was posing. Ever since she transferred to our class, I run into her every time I go to the bathroom. Once or twice is a coincidence. Every time? Is she blocking me? Because of Chase? I pressed my lips together and summoned my courage to stand next to her. Claire kept washing. Her movements got stiff. I washed faster. When she finished, she stood there, texting on her old phone. She sent a text. Ding. My phone buzzed in my pocket. She sent another. Ding. My face burned. Does she know? Claire transferred a year ago. She was one of the scholarship kids I targeted. Later, I set up an anonymous scholarship fund for the group, but I sponsored Claire directly. Her family situation was awful. She had a brother, and her parents treated her like dirt. I was terrified she’d drop out. Looking at the [98] hate score above her head… I wanted to pretend nothing was happening. Being sponsored by your love rival hurts your pride, right? I couldn’t ruin her focus. But then, Claire called my personal number. The one I gave her for “emergencies only.” She’d never used it before. My ringtone blasted through the silence. My scalp tingled. I felt Claire’s gaze burning into me. “Winnie, your phone is ringing. Aren’t you going to answer?” she asked, her voice thoughtful. I couldn’t hide anymore. I took out my phone with shaking hands. The moment I answered, the number above Claire’s head went berserk. [99]… [100]… [100+] [DING! Villainess System Online. Mission Activated: Please execute the bullying of the Heroine immediately!] Huh? My eyes widened. I hung up. The Villainess System explained that the numbers represent the intensity of the characters’ feelings toward me. The higher the excitement, the higher the number. As the villainess, I have to drive the plot. If I complete the missions, I get a “Clearance Gift Pack.” I asked weakly, [What happens if I don’t?] The System was ruthless: [Then the host receives the Death Gift Pack. Car crash? Cancer? Jumping off a building? It’s a random draw!] I clenched my tiny fist. I stood on my tiptoes and summoned all my strength to grab the Heroine by the collar. “Don’t leave after school… You stay… and h-help me… with my homework!” Since I offended Julian, and Claire is smart, maybe she can tutor me? “Meet me after school” was the most villainous line I could think of. TV dramas always use it. But I’m barely 5’1″. Claire is 5’7″. She towered over me. She stared at me, eyes calm, lashes fluttering. I panicked. I remembered the rumors. Even though Claire is a scholarship student at the bottom of the social food chain, the rich bullies leave her alone. Why? Because she’s a genius in the lab. Even the TAs respect her. And physically? She destroys people in P.E. She dominates every sport. I stared at her lean, muscular arms. She could probably fold me like a lawn chair. So, to boost my courage, I leaned in closer. Close enough to smell the lemon soap on her collar. Her eyes were amber? Wow. Main character energy. Even her pupils are pretty. Claire blinked. Her breathing slowed down. She whispered. “Okay. I’ll stay.” She seemed intimidated by my aura. She couldn’t even look me in the eye. Even the number on her head flickered in fear. I went to let go, but the bathroom door swung open. A girl walked in, saw us, and froze. She covered her face. “Sorry to interrupt!” Then she ran away, giggling manically. The System praised me: [The Heroine’s emotions are turbulent! Great start, Host!] I nodded proudly. That night, the school forum exploded. [BREAKING NEWS: Winnie from Class A was caught cornering Goddess Claire in the bathroom requesting a KISS?!] [OMG. Where are her morals? Where is the dignity? WHERE IS THE VIDEO LINK?!] Eh? I was confused. I thought I was playing the villain. Why do they think I’m a pervert? 4 With Claire tutoring me, my grades actually improved. She broke everything down step-by-step. It was way better than Julian’s abstract genius method. I finally enjoyed studying. After midterms, the System issued a new mission. [You are a Villainess! Why are you studying so hard? You should be punching the Heroine and stepping on rivals! Steal all the men!] It said the plot required the Heroine to be bullied so badly that the Second Male Lead (Julian) would pity her. His pity would make me jealous, leading me to force Julian to date me, isolating the Heroine further. I couldn’t imagine Claire crying and looking at the sky. She’d probably just dunk on someone and tell them to get lost. But the System said the core task was simple: [Date the Second Male Lead!] [Complete Phase 2 to unlock the Livestream Chat. The audience will drop plot hints!] I nodded. I’m rich, but I have no friends. I was a slow kid. I used to buy snacks for everyone to make them like me. They’d eat my snacks and call me “stupid cash cow” behind my back. Dad transferred me here hoping for better peers. Instead, they just called me “New Money trash.” I asked the System seriously, “Will the audience like me? Can I make friends?” The System looked at my small face and big eyes. [Guaranteed. If anyone roasts you, I’ll hack their account.]

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The Film Emperor, Julian Sterling, was getting dragged on social media for keeping his mouth shut during a kiss scene. The audience, looking pale and unsatisfied, commented righteously: [Zero chemistry. I felt nothing.] Being the messy person I am, I liked the post just to stir the pot. Suddenly, Julian posted: [Fine. Next movie, I’ll open it wide for you guys to see!] The comment section exploded with joy. I stood there, frozen. Wait a minute. Tomorrow, I’m the female lead in that “next movie.” 1 In the entertainment industry, Julian Sterling is known as the celibate, morally upright “good guy.” I, on the other hand, am known as the seductive vixen who flirts 24/7. I despise his fake persona, so I roast him online constantly. [Oh please, acting all cold and aloof, but behind those sunglasses, your eyes were practically crossing from staring at me.] He replied: [Sorry for the slow reply. It takes longer to type with my middle finger.] The comments were full of “LMAO,” used to our public beef. On the red carpet, I deliberately squeezed next to him. “Oops, my zipper feels like it’s slipping. Be a dear and zip me up?” Julian didn’t even look. He raised his hand—zip—done in 0.01 seconds. He didn’t touch a millimeter of skin. His other hand was even throwing up a peace sign for the cameras. I rolled my eyes. “So practiced. How many girls have you zipped up?” Julian looked down with a half-smile. I instinctively looked at his pants and understood immediately. “You pervert. One day I’ll expose your true face!” 2 Karma arrived swiftly. Julian was trending because he kept his mouth shut during a kiss scene. I lay on my couch, sipped my tea, and boldly liked the hate post. Then I commented: [If any of these comments hurt your feelings, let me know. I’d love to repeat them to your face!] Below me, the audience was united in their dissatisfaction. [The Film Emperor clearly has no game!] [Exactly. Zero immersion for us viewers.] [Don’t make us beg. Next movie, at the latest.] The next second, a new post refreshed. Julian: [Fine. Next movie, I’ll open it wide for you guys to see!] The fans went wild. The comments were celebrating like it was Christmas. I froze. Hold on. Tomorrow is our first scene together as leads. I took this role specifically to find evidence that he’s a fraud. I risked my own sanity for this. And now, the karma boomerang hit me right in the face. I frantically opened my phone. WeChat pinged. It was the director of Chasing Blossoms. Director: [Zoe, Julian wants to move the kiss scene from Scene 10 and the bed scene from Scene 20 to tomorrow.] Me: [You’re just gonna let him? That’s bullying, Director! Don’t let him win!] Director: [Julian’s dad is the main investor.] I went silent. But kiss Julian? I wasn’t going to make it easy for him! I raided my kitchen: garlic, onions, stinky tofu, fermented bean curd, durian. Heh heh. Just you wait. 3 The next day, before the kiss scene, I snuck into the changing room. I pulled a fresh green onion from my sleeve. Just as I was about to dip it in some bean curd, the door next to me opened. A tall man walked out, taking off his shirt. My eyes popped. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. Under the bright lights, every muscle was defined perfectly. Every curve was flawless. I screamed, covering my eyes. “Julian Sterling, you pervert! I’m exposing you on Weibo!” Then I peeked through my fingers. Nice body. Heh heh. Eight-pack abs. My face turned yellow with horniness. I completely forgot I was the one in the wrong changing room. Julian glanced at me coolly, didn’t say a word, and reached for his belt buckle. I gulped. “What are you doing? There’s an innocent maiden here! Are you blind?” Julian paused, amused. “Zoe Tao, didn’t you say you were a veteran of love, a flower in a field of men, a different guy every night? Why so shy over a belt?” Hearing that, I immediately feigned composure, crossing my arms. “That’s right. I’ve slept with more men than you’ve eaten hot dinners. Change. I’ll watch.” I stared at his knobby fingers as they unbuckled the belt. The suit pants dropped to the floor. And then… My face burned brighter than the sun. I couldn’t watch anymore. “Just you wait!” I fled the room. 4 Even while filming, the image of his defined muscles wouldn’t leave my head. “Zoe, what’s wrong? Why is your face so red?” I jumped up. “Nothing! Where’s my onion?” In the drizzling rain, Julian and I stood facing each other. “Gu Yebai, let’s just end it.” As the female lead, I dropped my arm in despair, gave him one last sorrowful look, and turned to leave. As we passed, a hand clamped onto my wrist. “I don’t agree.” That handsome face zoomed in. Lips pressed against mine, cold from the rain. Remembering his tweet, I clamped my mouth shut tight. No entry. Suddenly, a hand gripped my sensitive waist and pinched. “Mmph…” My mouth opened involuntarily. As our tongues tangled, he pulled me tight against his chest. His body was scorching hot. My fingertips tingled like I’d been electrocuted. I couldn’t breathe. Tears pricked my eyes. “Can’t handle a kiss?” He sighed lightly, chuckling into my ear. “Cut!” the director yelled. I tried to push him away, but my legs were jelly. I almost knelt. “It’s not New Year’s yet, Zoe,” he said, catching me effortlessly, grinning like a devil. “Don’t call me that.” I frowned. It felt too intimate. It made my heart feel weird. “Wait, bro, didn’t you taste anything?” I suddenly remembered I had chomped down on a raw onion right before this. “I tasted it. Very sweet.” Julian smiled at me, the mole under his eye dancing dangerously. I looked away. “You must be starving.” As for the bed scene, don’t worry about me. I have my own rhythm. I’ve filmed plenty of romance dramas. I am a pro… Wait, this kid can kiss. “Hey, where are you touching?” I pushed him weakly. My clothes slipped off my shoulder, exposing white skin. Julian’s hot breath sprayed across my neck, kissing down my collarbone. The camera zoomed in tight. Even his expressions of suppressed desire were captured perfectly. Under the covers, I took advantage of the chaos to grope his abs a few times. “Tsk tsk. Not bad.” Julian stiffened, then continued kissing me as if nothing happened.

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