I’d decided to disappear from the internet completely, stop writing altogether and start a nomadic life.

But my best friend wouldn’t hear of it. She yelled at me, calling me crazy, accusing me of being a fool for not making money when I could.

I cut ties immediately, blocked her and escaped deep into the mountains, determined to keep my distance from her and her family.

In my previous life, I was a bestselling web novel author. She released chapters ahead of me, framing me as a plagiarist.

Readers lashed out at me viciously. They doxxed my account and subjected me to relentless cyberbullying.

At the critical moment, she spoke up publicly, “Ruth lost her parents at a young age and lived as a guest in my home. I can’t believe she’s repaid my kindness by plagiarizing my work. Don’t trust a word she says!”

The internet ran with the story of my parents’ deaths. The attacks escalated until I fell into deep depression. In a daze, I was hit by a car and died.

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day my work was first published.

***

The screen before me was crystal clear, my gaze fixed on the computer.

With just one press of the "confirm" button, the article would be scheduled for release—and I would plunge into an abyss from which there was no escape.

In my past life, right as I reached the highest peak of my novel’s updates, a plagiarism scandal erupted against me.

It was clearly the same work, yet somehow, another person's account always managed to post just moments before mine. Even the drafts I hadn’t published yet were identical to mine, down to the smallest detail.

When I tried to defend myself with evidence, my so-called best friend Kimberly Craft held a live stream, her voice trembling and tears streaming. “Ruth lost her parents at a young age and I pitied her. My family took her in, but I never thought she’d plagiarize my work and claim it as her own!”

Her mother joined the fray, broadcasting a livestream to release damning footage. In the video, I was seen rummaging through their home, stealing gold worth tens of thousands to sell off.

“This poor child had it rough, so I didn’t pursue her for it. But who would’ve thought she’d go this far? It’s outrageous, a disgrace to justice!”

The internet turned on me in an instant. My photo was edited into black-and-white memorial images and the website demanded millions from me in breach-of-contract penalties.

In a daze, overwhelmed by it all, I was hit by a speeding car and killed on the spot.

Gripping the mouse, my knuckles turned white from the pressure. This time, I have to uncover the truth and make the real plagiarist pay the price!

With that resolve, I quickly contacted my editor and typed a line in bold letters.

[Editor, I need to take a break from updating.]

My usually kind and understanding editor immediately changed her tone, asking with confusion, “What happened?”

Following my memories, I opened the website and searched for the latest chapters posted. I then sent all my remaining drafts to her.

Three seconds later, a series of voice messages popped up. The moment I clicked, her shocked voice erupted, “How is it possible that her work is exactly the same as yours?!”

Our signed contract carried legal weight and plagiarism would come with severe legal consequences.

Normally, I stored my completed drafts in my account and by all logic, they shouldn’t have been stolen.

Could it be that she used some kind of program to spy on my computer? Or perhaps exploited AI to manipulate my account’s backend?

I immediately called in a computer technician to examine and update my system. After a thorough check, the results showed no signs of tampering.

Then… could Kimberly have installed surveillance in my room? But even so, how could a camera capture the words on my screen?

I racked my brain for answers but couldn’t figure it out. Given the sensitivity of the issue, I explained everything to my editor. She made an exception, allowing me to pause updates, released a public plagiarism statement and hired a lawyer to issue an official notice.

Her one condition for me: I had to find the plagiarist.

For the first time ever, I didn’t update my work.

My readers flooded the comment section of my account, asking why the updates had stopped.

I was just about to respond when, to my shock, Kimberly beat me to it. In the author’s statement section, she publicly tagged my pen name, demanding an explanation.

“This book is my heart and soul, my labor of love. I poured countless hours into it and yet you, my so-called best friend, had the audacity to plagiarize it!”

Kimberly’s fans quickly uploaded comparison charts and color-coded analyses, flooding my account with hateful comments. They didn’t stop at me—my family became targets too.

Most of my fans were peaceful and non-confrontational, completely overwhelmed by the wave of abuse and unable to fight back.

Seizing the moment, Kimberly publicly revealed that I had been living in her home. The insults grew even louder.

“I can’t believe Ruth Norris shamelessly squatted in someone else’s house and still had the nerve to plagiarize!”

“No parents, no manners—no wonder she’s been exposed as a fraud!”

Although I had endured this storm of public outrage once before, seeing it all unfold again still struck a painful chord in my heart.

I bit down hard on my lower lip, the metallic taste of blood filling my senses as I forced myself to snap out of it and focus.

She might have stolen my drafts, but she couldn’t steal my inspiration or the soul of my writing.

Without responding to the chaos, I grabbed my keyboard and tablet and headed to a nearby café. There, I swiftly revised the story’s direction, reworking the plot and the intricate emotional entanglements between the protagonists.

The tone of the story took a sharp, dramatic turn.

After typing out 4,000 words, I closed my tablet with satisfaction. Logging into the site, I scheduled the updated chapter to go live at midnight the following day.

This time, I was determined to see how she planned to plagiarize.

When I returned home with my tablet, the living room lights were blazing. Kimberly was sitting there, her gaze sharp and her expression icy as she waited for me.

I was taken in by her family when I was nine years old. Since starting work, I had been contributing monthly to their household expenses as a way of repaying their kindness.

“I’ll transfer thirty thousand dollars to your mother, making it a total of two hundred twenty-five thousand dollars over the years. After that, I’ll leave this house for good.”

With those words, I turned, planning to leave as fast as I could. However, Kimberly grabbed my arm, blocking my path. She stood in front of me, her lips curling into a cold, dismissive smirk.

"You think you can just walk out like that? What do you take our home for—a hotel?"

"And what about the plagiarism? Don’t you owe us an explanation?"

She had the audacity to bring up plagiarism.

I swallowed my anger and said sternly, "I wrote that story myself. You stole my ideas and now you’re turning it around on me. How can a human like you exist?"

Unbothered, she sat arrogantly on the sofa, her eyes filled with disdain. She spat near my feet and sneered, “Where’s your proof? You’re just an orphan who plagiarized from the child of your benefactor. No manners, no family background—who’s going to believe you? You’re not much better than a stray cat or dog; do you actually think you’re important?”

Her words pierced through me like a dagger. I didn’t want to waste any more time arguing. Clutching my tablet, I turned to leave.

Kimberly’s pupils suddenly constricted and she lunged at me, trying to snatch the tablet.

In the scuffle, she lost her balance and fell.

"Ruth! How dare you bully my daughter—are you insane?!"

Kimberly’s mother furious voice boomed as she stormed in, rushing to shield Kimberly like a lioness protecting her cub.

No matter how much I tried to explain, she watched me with icy detachment.

"My daughter has had a deep love for literature since childhood. And what are you, exactly? How dare you try to ruin her reputation? Get back to your room this instant!"

The way she lovingly stroked Kimberly’s hair made my nose sting with unshed tears. The only reason these two had the guts to trample on me was because I had no one to back me up.

I packed my bags and left the house, taking only a few belongings with me. I found a cramped, run-down motel to stay in, lost in thought about what to do next.

As I scrolled through my phone, a sudden message from my editor popped up.

I stared at the screen, utterly speechless.

How could this be?!

Kimberly had updated again—and it was identical to my work!

Kimberly even went so far as to issue a statement, claiming it was her new, specially crafted storyline for the main characters, catering to both Happy Ending and Bad Ending for readers to choose from.

Her fans praised her as a god-tier writer, while at the same time, they turned on me, calling me a cowardly plagiarist.

[Wow, if this story ever gets adapted into a movie, it would be a total lost!]

[Some writers are probably crying in secret—she could never live up to our ‘sweet Kimberly’!]

[Plagiarism dogs should just die. Actually, forget it! You don’t even have a family to call your own!]

……

I closed the comment section with a heavy heart, feeling completely helpless for an answer.

This time, I swapped out my equipment and changed the location where I wrote.

But I couldn’t escape the plagiarism. Watching all my ideas and inspirations stolen right before my eyes, powerless to do anything about it, was unbearable.

Staring out at the moon, I carefully weighed my decision.

I decided to leave the web novel scene—put down my pen and stop updating.

If Kimberly was being hailed as the new star of the literary world, I was going to see what she could do once I stopped updating.

I deactivated my account and after several discussions with my editor, I officially announced a hiatus, vowing to focus on polishing other projects.

Those who had once supported me were now left in confusion. Some couldn’t discern the truth and followed along with the narrative, while others, like me, chose to step away from the drama.

I packed up my belongings late into the night, taking only a few writing essentials with me and finding a cheap motel to stay in. Fortunately, over the years, I had saved some money, so at least I wouldn’t starve.

But then the internet erupted. My phone was bombarded with calls all night long, flooded with thousands of harassing messages that nearly crashed my SIM card.

Checking my social media, all I saw were people condemning me.

[Ruth Norris is absolutely disgusting. She actually stole gold and jewelry from her foster family. A person like her is just wasting air by being alive.]

Even the fans who once stood up for me had turned against me.

[She even assaulted Kimberly! I must’ve been blind to have ever liked her!]

With trembling hands, I clicked on the video. The footage showed me in a scuffle with Kimberly, followed by clips of me stealing gold and a public statement from Kimberly’s mother.

She looked frail and aged, her eyes sunken and pitiful. “I always treated Ruth like my own,” she said tearfully, “but I never thought she’d steal from us and even hurt my daughter. It’s my fault for raising a poisonous snake in my home, for inviting a wolf into our family!”

The comment section was filled with words comforting Kimberly while urging me to die immediately.

I dug my nails into my skin, forcing myself to stay calm. In my past life, I had gotten caught up in proving myself, forgetting all about reporting the incident.

This time, I was determined to fight back.

I saved the video, went to the police station to file a report and uploaded the receipt along with the official police record online.

At the same time, I publicly released all of Kimberly’s threatening voice messages.

That day when I returned home, I was prepared. I secretly started recording, hoping to capture some evidence for a decisive blow.

I wasn’t the same person I was in my past life. Even though there wasn’t any key evidence for the plagiarism, I wanted Kimberly to know that I wasn’t going to let her push me around!

After I released the recording online, her fans went into a frenzy—some questioned the authenticity of the recording, while others pressured Kimberly to provide an explanation.

The police also arrived at my place immediately to gather evidence and issued an official statement.

On the day the gold was stolen, I was at a café and there’s store surveillance footage to prove it. As for who the person in the video was, that still needs to be investigated.

This evidence would completely clear my name.