When Jeremiah Jenner, an academician from a research lab, has bombs strapped to him by a malicious criminal, I know that I can save his life by cutting the right wire.

But my husband, Callum Johnson, keeps pinning my hand down with all his might. He tells me that I should wait for his crush, Shirley Gibson, to arrive so that she can save the day for once.

This was what happened in my previous life.

Thanks to Shirley's mistakes, the timer's countdown decreased from ten minutes all the way down to ten seconds.

I was the one who had to shove her away and cut the triggering wire based on my experience. That was how I saved Jeremiah's life.

Shirley, on the other hand, was so frightened that she passed out on the spot. She became the laughingstock of the entire squad, which led to her leaving the squad due to depression.

Callum didn't say a single word. Instead, he dispatched me to the border as a spy.

On the day my mission was supposed to be wrapped up, Callum got in contact with me via a secretive channel. Then, he leaked my coordinates to my enemies on purpose.

"Couldn't you just let Shirley play the hero for once? Since you like showing off that much, then you might as well stay as a heroine forever in this place!"

The next thing I knew, I felt a bullet piercing through my chest. My enemies had me surrounded immediately before burning me alive, resulting in my death.

As I breathed my last breath, I saw Callum embracing Shirley while watching me being licked hungrily by the flames from a long distance away. There was nothing but satisfaction in his eyes.

When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the scene where the bombs are set to be removed. Slowly, I put down the pliers in my hand.

Fine. I won't steal Shirley's thunder this time.

I'd like to see how the golden couple can maintain their bombastic, passionate relationship in a place that's about to be blown apart.

"You're to cease your actions right now, Hope Linwood!" Callum Johnson, my husband, yelled.

I then heard the deputy commander's bark through the comms. "You're the only shot we have since the bomb disposal robot was hit by heavy interference. The assault team can't find a sniper position!"

I raised my gaze and looked coldly through the blast-proof mask at Callum. He was holding my wrist in a death grip. I could see that his eyes were brimming with unmistakable disgust as he said, "I told you to wait for Shirley, the primary figure of this operation."

It was happening all over again—just like in my past life.

I looked at the red digits on the bomb's timer—09:43—and turned my gaze toward the silver-haired academician bound to the chair with a gag in his mouth, shaking with terror.

I then looked at Callum before I pried his grip from my wrist, finger by finger. I said calmly as I stepped back, "I'll wait for her, then."

Callum was visibly taken aback. He must have assumed I would fight him on this, driven by the hostage's safety and my duty as a police officer. He had his rebuttals ready, prepared to call me "selfish" and "jealous of Shirley's expertise".

He looked on in surprise as I simply moved to the corner, standing there like a spectator. He only looked surprised for a split second before his expression turned into one full of disdain. "You've at least come to your senses, I guess."

In that instant, over the comms, the deputy commander yelled, "Have you lost your mind, Callum? How could you use this situation to let your lover show off when lives are at risk?"

Callum directly disconnected the deputy commander's comms and let out a cold huff. "What a nuisance!"

It wasn't long before a woman in a high-end custom suit and three-inch high heels arrived with an entourage. It was none other than Shirley Gibson, Callum's sweetheart and a theoretical prodigy fresh from abroad.

She didn't even bother wearing any protective gear, carrying her dainty toolbox gracefully as if heading to a high-society dinner.

"Is this it? It's much simpler than I expected," Shirley said as she glanced around the chaotic scene before looking at me in the corner provocatively.

"It's been a while, Ms. Linwood. I heard you're still on the front line. It must be quite taxing—unlike me. After winning a few awards and publishing a few papers abroad, I was specially recruited back."

She walked up to the bomb, putting on a professional front as she studied it. "It's an old-school setup—a standard pressure plate and dual timer trigger. I've handled hundreds of these on the simulator."

Shirley's voice, transmitted through the small microphone, was clearly heard by everyone in the command center.

A few of the younger team members whispered to one another, "Shirley makes it sound so effortless. Is she for real?"

I crossed my arms and watched in silence. I knew that the fuse was a complex, multi-layered trap, which I'd never encountered before, though Shirley just called it old-school. I was also aware that one wrong move would trip the secondary power and detonate it instantly.

In my past life, I was in this very spot, watching Shirley cut the most deadly red wire.

"How's it going, Shirley?" Callum asked. His voice was unnervingly gentle, tinged with an encouraging warmth.

Shirley smiled confidently as she grabbed a pair of custom gold scissors and said, "It's a piece of cake!"

She pointed to the blue wire and continued, "Do you see that, Callum? That individual who designed this has a very predictable mindset. He'd definitely use a unique color for the key wire just to prove how 'smart' he is."

"In fact, the one really controlling the timer is this most unremarkable black wire," Shirley said as she lightly poked the black wire with the tip of the scissors, her movements as graceful as a conductor leading an orchestra.

"If I cut this, the countdown will cease."

In that instant, a chorus of muffled gasps broke over the comms. It was common knowledge that the black and white wires were off-limits until the circuit was mapped. It was the golden rule of bomb disposal, chapter and verse.

The deputy commander's voice returned through a different comm link. "Hold on! You must know that the black wire is usually the negative wire, Ms. Gibson. Cutting it directly will cause a short circuit! It will detonate instantly!"

Shirley scoffed as though she had heard a joke. "You're just a bunch of amateurs, so stop spouting nonsense! You're only interfering with my judgment now!"

She glanced at me in the corner with disdain before continuing, "Isn't that right, Ms. Linwood? You see, sometimes, relying on experience is exactly what gets people killed!"

I offered no response. I simply watched her in silence, looking at the foolish yet confident smile on her face.

Callum instantly came to Shirley's defense over the comms. "You all better shut up right now! I trust Shirley's judgment. After all, she's a world-class genius!"

Shirley became even more arrogant with Callum backing her. She no longer hesitated and aimed the scissors at that black wire. "You guys should watch closely—this is the difference between a genius and an ordinary person."

There was a distinct cutting sound before time seemed to freeze right then. Those present—on-site and off-site—held their breath in anticipation, though the timer didn't stop even for a second.

It got worse instead. The numbers started flashing at a weird speed, then jumped. It suddenly jumped from seven minutes to three minutes.

Shirley shrieked, dropping her scissors in terror as she collapsed to the floor. "How can this be? That can't be right! There's no way my theory is wrong!"

Callum was stunned as well. He yelled into the comms, "What's going on here? How could this happen?"

I scanned the internals of the bomb through my blast-proof mask, noting that faint trails of green smoke were rising from the severed end of the black wire.

In my past life, I was standing too close to the bomb. I inhaled just a tiny amount of the green smoke, yet I spent a month coughing up blood.

It was VX nerve gas—a colorless, odorless nerve agent designed to destroy the central nervous system in minutes. It was saturating the room at ten times its original speed—quicker than I remembered.

"It's VX—the nerve gas—so please evacuate this instant!" I issued a warning in the public channel, sounding unnervingly calm.

In that instant, chaos erupted in the command center.

"W-What? What do you mean there's nerve gas in there?"

"Hurry up and execute the emergency protocols! Get the medical team on standby!"

Upon hearing that, Shirley's complexion instantly paled. She clutched her throat and began to cough violently, as if she had already been poisoned.

She wailed as she scrambled on all fours toward the exit, her movements desperate and clumsy. "Help me, Callum! I can't breathe!"

Callum was the first to respond. "Get the tactical team to breach that entrance this instant! Get in there and rescue Shirley!"

He yelled furiously, completely forgetting that there was another hostage in the room, along with me, his wife.

It was then that one of the team members asked, "What about the hostage and Ms. Linwood, Mr. Johnson?"

"Go rescue Shirley first! You'll all be accountable if anything happens to her!" Callum commanded, leaving no question about his intent. "Hope won't die since she has protective gear. That academician's life is all in the hands of fate now!"

As I listened to Callum's comments, I stared at his face on the screen. It was contorted with worry, but I felt completely cold inside.

In my past life, that single order—"save Shirley first"—was why we missed our window. I managed to diffuse the bomb, but the academician inhaled too much gas and couldn't be saved. I, on the other hand, was left with permanent health issues.

I wasn't going to let that tragedy happen again in this life, though. I wasn't looking to rescue them this time.

I was there to save myself.

The tactical team stormed in, focused solely on Shirley. They hoisted her up from where she was "fighting for air" on the floor and hurried her out. They didn't even bother looking at the academician bound to the chair. Likewise, I was completely ignored.

It was as if the two of us were nothing but thin air, of no consequence to anyone.

I checked the countdown—01:37—and mused that I had plenty of time. I approached the academician, who was slumped in the chair. He looked at me, his clouded eyes brimming with despair.

I kneeled and whispered in his ear, "You have nothing to worry about, Mr. Jenner. I won't let anything happen to you. Do you remember the young girl you saved from a blast in North Averia 15 years ago, Mr. Jenner?"

In that instant, Jeremiah Jenner shuddered, his pupils constricting suddenly as he stared at me with an expression of total disbelief.

I winked at him before dragging the chair toward the corner against the room's load-bearing wall—the sturdiest spot in the entire room.

I looked at the countdown and noted that there were still ten seconds left before I turned to look at the doorway one last time. I could see Callum holding Shirley through the crack, looking utterly worried.

I then noticed that Shirley was glaring at me, radiating sheer malice. I just smiled faintly as the countdown ticked down.

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