Soon, it was time for the monthly exam. I'd worked really hard that month, but unfortunately, I only improved a little. There were still a few tricky questions I couldn't figure out.

Still, compared to the 30-something score I got in my past life, I figured I wouldn't do so bad this time.

I wrote down every question I couldn't answer. The moment I got home, I wolfed down my dinner and rushed back to my room to study again. Every night, I studied past midnight, only going to bed when I couldn't keep my eyes open.

One night, I'd just finished solving a tough problem when I heard a commotion outside. I went to my door and twisted it open.

Dad was sitting on the living room couch in casual clothes. His expression gave nothing away as he spoke to Whitney, who reeked of alcohol. "Why are you coming home this late again?"

Whitney wobbled a little as she walked, smiling drunkenly. "The monthly exam just ended. I went out with some friends to relax."

"Ridiculous!" Dad snapped, slamming his hand on the table. "This is the most critical period before your college entrance exam! It was just a monthly exam, yet you're already staying out all night. Don't tell me you've been hanging out with that Campbell punk again."

"Dad, we just hung out. It's not like we did anything else. Besides, with my ability, there's no way I'd mess up an exam."

Whitney hadn't realized how serious things were. She'd always been overly confident in herself, and she had no idea that it would backfire this time.

She couldn't tell the difference yet because she still had some of my luck. It wouldn't disappear all at once, but rather fade slowly, along with all the advantages that came with it.

Dad scoffed. "You'd better not let me down. If you worked even half as hard as Gabriel, I wouldn't have to worry about you."

Mom came out when she heard the commotion and tried to smooth things over before the situation got out of hand.

"Whitney, it's late. The results will be out tomorrow. Why don't you wash up and get some rest?"

She clearly didn't want the father and daughter to keep butting heads. After all, Dad's temper wasn't something she liked to poke.

Meanwhile, Whitney's face was as dark as coal. She'd been lectured several times lately, and her patience was wearing thin.

In my past life, I would take the blame for her or warn her ahead of time anytime she was about to get in trouble.

She used to sneak home late all the time, so I would drag Dad away to play chess with me after dinner. Once he got tired, he never had the energy to notice she was acting suspiciously.

Perhaps she still believed Dad was the same as always—gentle, indulgent, always siding with her. Maybe that was why she acted so recklessly.

In my past life, because my grades were bad and because I'd lied to cover for her repeatedly, she only needed to say a few words to make Mom and Dad lose trust in me completely. In the end, they'd kicked me out of the house.

The next day at school, Whitney pulled me aside. I frowned, glancing at my watch, and said flatly, "You have ten minutes. My time's valuable, so start talking now."

Maybe I'd been too distant lately, because her face tightened for a second. Still, she forced herself to continue, "I want you to apologize to Simon. You were in the wrong first, after all."

For some reason, hearing that made my chest tighten.

One time, a chubby kid tried to steal my food at the orphanage, and I immediately started fighting him.

When Whitney saw us, she rushed in front of me without hesitation, not caring who was in the wrong, and beat up the kid until he apologized to me.

Back then, she'd felt like a guardian angel to me. But now, everything that had once moved me had turned back on me.

I asked casually, "And if I don't want to?"