After getting fired from my company, I returned to the countryside, spending my days playing rummy with my grandmother, but my entire family went insane, searching for me everywhere.

It was because my younger sister, the family's prodigy jewelry designer, couldn't come up with a single design after I left.

In my previous life, at the National Jewelry Design Competition, she managed to produce designs identical to mine before I even finished mine.

Everyone assumed I had copied her work. Even my own family testified in her favor.

The company accused me of misconduct and plagiarism, claiming my actions had tarnished their reputation. I was fired on the spot and ordered to pay a huge fine.

My family, seeing me as nothing but a burden, threw me out of the house.

Crushed by the weight of family betrayal and public judgment, I fell into depression, only to be killed on the street by one of my sister's obsessive fans.

As my consciousness faded, I couldn't understand why my sister managed to create the exact same design before I did.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day I just signed up for the National Jewelry Design Competition.

Shadows of the Past

"Charlotte, do you feel confident about this competition?"

The chatter in the office snapped me back to reality.

And then, it hit me that I had been reborn.

"Charlotte has won the company's Outstanding Designer Award several times in a row. How could she not be confident?"

Her shoulder bumped mine as she smiled warmly.

Her words left me momentarily speechless. Only I knew what awaited me.

In my previous life, I had poured days of effort into my designs for the National Jewelry Design Competition, only to have them accused of plagiarism at the event.

The organizers displayed two identical design drafts, every line of the patterns matched perfectly, but the other one had been turned in first.

It belonged to my own sister, Melody Sutton.

She stood in the crowd, eyes red, staring at me in disbelief.

Grabbing the microphone beside her, she demanded loudly, "Charlotte, why did you copy my work? If you couldn't come up with a design, I could have helped you find inspiration, but why steal mine?"

I froze. That was my design, safely stored on my computer, never shown to anyone.

I opened my mouth to explain, but the crowd erupted.

"Plagiarist! Get out!"

"How dare you submit a stolen design? Bold move."

"Someone like this doesn't deserve to be a designer. Ugh!"

I snatched a microphone, trying to defend myself, but hardly anyone believed me.

Then, my parents displayed photos of Melody working late into the night on her designs, claiming they regretted having a daughter like me and that they would disown me.

Nobody believed me anymore.

Security escorted me out. My phone buzzed nonstop with hateful messages.

I checked my computer and found no viruses or remote access. Every sketch, every note, every draft was with me. There was no way anything had leaked. So, why did Melody's design match mine exactly?

Every line, every idea, every sketch had come from me, painstakingly drawn by hand. I could never have copied her.

"Charlotte, I heard your sister is entering this competition too. Who do you think will take first place?"

Not long after I joined the company, Melody somehow ended up at the same place.

Fear clenched my chest when I heard her question. My fists were so tight that it felt like my palms might break open.

Destined to Clash

When my sister Melody was born, something about her was already strange. In the delivery room, every baby cried the moment they entered the world, except her.

My mother freaked out. She said it had to be some kind of curse and dragged in a local psychic to check on her.

But the moment he stepped into our home, his gaze didn't fall on Melody; it fell on me.

He said our fates were in conflict, that my presence would drain Melody's luck and weaken her very life. According to him, I had to leave the house, or Melody wouldn't survive past twenty-five.

From that day on, my parents were consumed by the thought of how to get me out of the house.

I felt it, so I tried everything I could to win my place, to please her.

I would sneak my favorite toys into her room, though her shelves were already overflowing with the newest dolls, stacked neatly in every cabinet.

When I got close to her, she looked up at me with that sweet, innocent smile. For a second, I thought she liked me too.

I was wrong.

She shoved over the blocks she'd just stacked, sat down on the floor, and burst into tears.

When my parents rushed in at the sound of her sobs, they went straight to Melody, leaving me standing there. That was when my mother's hand struck me.

Ringing filled my ears. Blood trickled down the corner of my mouth.

In that instant, I realized something I had known deep down all along. Melody and I could never get along.

Eventually, I was sent to live with my grandmother, who raised me on her own.

Years later, out of nowhere, my parents decided to bring me back home. I had longed for their love and care, so I agreed.

…

Back at my desk, I booted up my computer and stared at the designs on the screen.

Melody had spent her entire childhood studying dance. When did she even learn art and design?

I asked my colleagues for the files of her previous submissions. Soon, one arrived. It was a folder filled with Melody's designs.

I flipped through them, and with each page, my chest tightened.

They were all identical to mine. Every single one.

Some designs were even sketches I had never released, private works I had created for myself. Yet here they were, public for everyone to see.

How was this possible?

Some of those designs were my own private projects, intended as the foundation for a future studio. No one else was supposed to know about them.

I deleted all the files from my computer, trying to steady my trembling hands, forcing myself to stay calm.

I had died once and come back. There had to be some flaw, some crack in all this that I hadn't seen.

From high school, I had studied art relentlessly, earning top honors and a direct recommendation to art school, before moving on to specialize in jewelry design. My foundation was solid, my craft precise.

I took a deep breath, letting determination replace shock.

No matter what tricks she used, I would design again. I would create something new.

I shut my computer. After all this, I couldn't risk being copied again.

Violet's Kiss

I pulled out a blank sheet of paper and began sketching a new jewelry design.

Once I'd mapped out the structure and materials, my pencil started moving almost on its own.

I didn't know how long I'd been at it when I finally looked down.

A delicate ring had taken shape on the page, its band made of fine strands of rose gold, gently intertwined. A platinum violet bloomed at the center, set with a rare purple gem that gave off an air of mystery and quiet luxury.

I named it "Violet's Kiss."

Suddenly, a voice rang out from across the office. "Wow! Melody's got another new design, and it's gorgeous!"

My brows furrowed. A new design?

"Oh my gosh, this is stunning!"

"Charlotte, your sister's so talented. I'm jealous!"

One after another, their voices filled the room with admiration.

Everyone was holding their phones. I picked up mine and opened my social media app.

Right at the top of my feed was Melody's latest post. 'I'll keep working hard to create even more beautiful designs for everyone. This one, "Violet's Kiss," is for you all.'

My heart dropped as I stared at the photo. It was my design, the one I'd just finished sketching. And somehow, Melody had posted it first.

Then, someone passing by my desk grabbed the sheet I'd been working on. "Hey, look! This is the exact same design Melody just posted!"

People crowded around.

"It really is identical!"

My pulse spiked. I started to stand and snatch my drawing back, but someone shoved me away. "Charlotte, don't tell me you're trying to copy your sister's design?"

Gasps and whispers rippled through the office.

"I can't believe it. She always looked so proper, but she's actually a thief?"

Someone's voice rose above the noise. "Come to think of it, Charlotte's old designs all look kind of like Melody's, don't they?"

Before I could react, people started pulling out my past sketches, comparing them to Melody's.

I used the moment to snatch my paper back. "This was mine to begin with. Melody's the one copying me. She always has."

Just then, Melody walked in from the hallway. She stood in the center of the crowd, wearing a short white dress.

Her eyes were red, tears sliding down her cheeks as she spoke in a trembling voice. "Charlotte, why would you steal my work? I know you don't like me, but those designs mean everything to me. I worked so hard on them. Ever since you came home, you've hated me. Is this because you're mad at Mom and Dad?"

Her soft, pitiful tone made everyone's sympathy instantly swing her way.

The air turned heavy with judgment. Someone behind me gave a hard shove.

I lost my balance and fell forward, my head slamming against the edge of a desk. Warm blood trickled down my cheek, dripping onto the floor.

Melody rushed toward me, crouching as if to help, then suddenly fell backward in an exaggerated stumble.

'Oh, come on,' I thought. 'Is she serious? In front of everyone?'

She looked up at me, eyes wide and watery. "Charlotte, why did you push me? I was just trying to help you up."

Everyone ran to check on her instead of me.

Someone pointed a finger at me and barked, "Charlotte, that's too much! You plagiarize and then act violent when you're caught?"

"Exactly! Melody, don't bother with her. Someone that shameless deserves it."

Melody slowly stood, her voice soft and trembling. "No matter what, she's still my sister. I'll be fine."

A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. I looked her straight in the eye. "I'm sorry, Melody. Come closer. I just want to tell you something."

Melody hesitated, then stepped toward me, still looking wounded and meek.

I smiled sweetly back, and the moment she got close, I slapped her hard across the face. The force sent her sprawling to the floor.

"Oh dear, Melody, how could you be so careless? I only gave you the gentlest little push."

Melody sat there clutching her face, her hair falling forward like a curtain. Through the strands, her eyes glared at me, dark and furious.

Then, as if remembering her audience, she lifted her head again, wide-eyed and innocent.

I'd had enough of her act.

While everyone's attention was still on Melody, I stood up, ignored the murmurs and glares, and walked out, leaving that poisonous crowd behind me.