My girlfriend Chloe Bennett's childhood buddy, Daniel Miller, binds himself to a transfer system. Everything he eats gets sent straight into my stomach.

He creates a live stream channel and eats nonstop for 12 hours a day to rake in money. Meanwhile, I end up in the ER with acute pancreatitis.

I try to explain everything to Chloe, but she just looks at me like I've lost my mind.

"How could something that ridiculous exist? If food could magically transfer, nobody would starve in the world. You're just jealous he's making money from streaming."

Afterward, Daniel's every live stream triggers another pancreatitis episode, sending me back to the ER until I'm barely holding on.

I get tested, but the doctors can't figure out what's wrong. They even want to admit me to psych.

Later, in a desperate bid to outdo another streamer, Daniel downs ten pounds of mashed potatoes at once. The overload destroys my spleen and stomach, causing massive internal bleeding that kills me.

When I open my eyes again, I'm back on the day of Daniel's very first live stream. This time, I rush out and order 20 takeout dishes before him.

"This time, I'm eating first."

As I watched Daniel Miller devour an entire bucket of fried chicken on my phone screen, a heavy wave of fullness hit my stomach. The feeling made no sense. I hadn't even had a sip of water all day.

It seemed I had been right. Even though I had been reborn, nothing had actually changed.

Whatever Daniel ate still transferred straight into my stomach.

While I was still frozen in shock, Daniel took out a giant plate of spicy aglio e olio. A half-gallon bottle of soda sat beside it.

"That chicken was just a warm-up. Time for the main course," he told his viewers.

Off-camera, someone gasped. "Oh my god, Dan, you're insane. I couldn't finish that in three days."

Just as Daniel was about to bury his head into that plate bigger than his face, I grabbed my car keys and bolted out the door.

I couldn't let him keep eating. If he did, I would meet the same end all over again.

On the way, I pulled out my phone and ordered 20 takeout meals. This time, I needed to figure out exactly what he was up to.

I reached my girlfriend Chloe Bennett's building just as the delivery drivers arrived. I grabbed the bags and hurried upstairs, pounding on her door.

She opened the door with an irritated look. "Why are you here? Are you checking up on me again? Dan's streaming right now. Don't start anything. Just go. Dan's in a great mood eating, and if you scare off the big spenders in his chat, I swear we're done."

In my previous life, right after we had graduated, Daniel had moved into Chloe's apartment. He said it was only temporary until he found a job and could afford his own place. When I told her the arrangement felt inappropriate, she immediately snapped at me for even bringing it up.

"Daniel and I go way back. If anything were ever going to happen between us, you wouldn't have even been in the picture."

Later, Daniel threw himself into competitive eating streams, and I followed his account, trying my best to be supportive.

That was when the nightmare began. Every time he went live, my stomach swelled as if it had been stuffed to the brim, like it was about to split open.

Eventually, I ended up in the hospital with pancreatitis.

The doctors said it was caused by extreme overeating. Severe cases could kill a person outright.

When I told Chloe what was happening, she didn't believe me. She even accused me of being jealous of Daniel.

Since she helped run his channel, she kept me far away, terrified I would interfere with their income.

Meanwhile, I kept collapsing at home in unbearable pain, hauled off by ambulances more times than I could count. Doctors warned me again and again not to throw my life away with this eating disorder they thought I had.

Then Daniel tried to beat a major streamer in an eating challenge. They each had to finish ten pounds of mashed potatoes, and whoever finished first won.

My spleen and stomach ruptured on the spot. I bled internally and died.

With my soul still lingering in the world, I watched Daniel celebrate his victory. He was crowned the new king of competitive eating, with Chloe wrapped in his arms, glowing with joy.

I died with no answers. So in this life, even if I had to take him down with me, I wasn't letting him walk away victorious.

I stormed straight into the live stream, interrupting Daniel mid-bite, holding up the 20 takeout orders in my hands.

"Daniel, you can't keep eating. This is terrible for your health. I'll help you eat. You should take a break."

Daniel lifted his head from his plate, confused. "Ryan, I'm streaming. Can you not cause trouble right now?"

I stepped into the frame, making sure my face was fully visible. I had dressed up for this, and being slimmer than Daniel naturally made me look sharper and more attractive on screen.

He was still a small-time streamer with almost no loyal followers. The moment I appeared, the chat exploded. Everyone wanted to watch me eat.

Daniel didn't dare scold me on camera, so he stood up and motioned for me to take over.

I reached for a box of fruit salad first. It was mostly mango, which Daniel was allergic to.

I chose it intentionally. I wanted to see if the transfer system worked both ways. If I ate something he couldn't, would he react?

I finished the fruit salad. The chat praised my eating style, saying it was satisfying to watch, and a few viewers even sent me generous gifts.

I gave Daniel a faint smile. "Seems like the audience likes watching me eat more. Don't worry, this was just a spur-of-the-moment idea. All the gifts are yours."

Daniel scowled, clearly unhappy at losing the spotlight.

I kept my eyes on his face, hoping to catch any sign of an allergic reaction, but I saw nothing but anger.

One fruit salad clearly wouldn't do. I took out a large mango pudding and a giant slice of layered mango cake.

Daniel tried to take back control. "Ryan, my streaming career is just starting. If you want to stream, create your own account. Don't steal my spotlight. Move over and let me eat. If you insist, we can eat together and see who eats more."

He reached for his plate of spicy aglio e olio, but I grabbed it first and held it up to the camera.

"I'm just looking out for your health. This pasta is loaded with chili, which isn't great for your stomach, especially with ice-cold soda. If you want to eat, go for something lighter, like oatmeal."

I grabbed one of the takeout boxes—a hearty serving of oatmeal loaded with nuts and dried fruit—and set it in front of me.

The chat loved my thoughtful gesture. They called me handsome and kind, sent even more gifts, and urged Daniel to take a break. Everyone wanted to watch me instead.

Daniel looked like he wanted to call Chloe for backup, but she was grinning at the gift revenue flashing on her screen. As far as she was concerned, anyone who made money was fine, especially since I was earning more than Daniel.

Despite my stomach protesting, I finished the mango pudding and the layered mango cake. However, Daniel didn't show a single reaction.

In the past, he would have broken out in hives after just one bite of mango.

Damn it. The transfer system was one-sided.

Everything Daniel ate went to me, but nothing I ate transferred to him.

Feeling completely stuffed, I waved my phone at the camera. "It's late, everyone. Get some sleep. Staying up isn't good for you. See you next time if fate allows."

After saying goodbye to the viewers, I ended the live stream.

Back in my car, I grabbed a plastic bag and emptied my stomach, vomiting everything I had just eaten.

I made it home deep into the night, but rest was out of the question.

As long as I stayed in the dark, my life remained at risk.

I lay in bed, tossing restlessly, when a sudden wave of nausea twisted through my gut.

I gagged hard, but nothing came up. The feeling reminded me of being a kid, forced to choke down greasy meat that made my throat tighten.

I staggered to the fridge, grabbed an ice cream bar, and hoped the cold would settle the queasiness.

It didn't help at all.

Then it hit me.

I grabbed my phone and opened Daniel's stream. Sure enough, he was live again.

"For tonight's show, I'm eating nothing but thick-cut bacon. Gifts up, folks."

He held up a slab of glossy, quivering fat and bit into it like it was candy. Even through the screen, the sight was nauseating.

I immediately typed into the chat.

"Stop eating! That's disgusting!"

Daniel glanced at the comment and smirked.

"Who do you think you are? I'm not stopping just because you told me to. Let's see if you've got what it takes."

The nausea intensified. I quickly sent several expensive gifts, hoping to get him to quit.

The gifts went through, but Daniel didn't stop. Instead, he hauled out a giant mixing bowl filled with mayonnaise.

"If bacon's not your thing, I'll go for something lighter."

Mayonnaise was practically pure grease. He shoveled it in by the spoonful, and I nearly vomited blood from the revulsion.

"What are you doing to me? Why am I the one paying for it every time you eat?

"Stop, Daniel! Don't eat another bite!"

He only laughed harder as he read my frantic messages.

A stabbing pain ripped through my abdomen. I used the last of my strength to dial 911.

Thankfully, the paramedics arrived fast enough to drag me back from the brink. Just like in my previous life, I had gone into acute pancreatitis from sheer stomach overload.

The doctor looked over my chart, baffled. "With how thin you are, I'm surprised you can put away that much food."

I stayed silent, signed the discharge papers, and headed straight to Daniel's place. The moment the door opened, I pressed a kitchen knife to his throat.

"Ryan, what the hell are you doing? Calm down!"

I didn't bother with pleasantries. I glared at him and said, "I'm done with this. Tell me why I'm the one suffering every time you eat."

Daniel blinked, pretending to be clueless. "Dude, what are you even talking about? I seriously have no idea."

My grip tightened on the knife. "Drop the act. Talk."

His face was drained of color. "Okay, okay! Calm down, I'll talk!"

Then he suddenly shrieked, "Chloe, help!"

I hadn't even realized she was behind me. She kicked me hard, knocking me to the floor, and wrestled the knife out of my hand.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

She turned on Daniel's stream right there, then dumped 30 burgers onto the table.

"Didn't you say you're the one who gets sick whenever Daniel eats? Fine. Let the viewers decide if that's true."

The viewers had no idea what was happening. Comments flooded the screen.

Chloe addressed the camera. "Everyone, my boyfriend's lost it. He claims everything Dan eats transfers into his stomach. You're all witnesses tonight. If he keeps acting crazy, I'm breaking up with him."

Daniel grabbed a burger and took a huge bite without hesitation. The overwhelming fullness hit me like a hammer. My stomach couldn't take another bite. Pain ripped through me, my knees gave way, and I collapsed to the floor, shaking.

Someone in the chat tagged Chloe and wrote, "He's faking it. Smack him a couple times, and he'll shape up."

She stared at me coldly. "If you're still going to put on a show, I won't hold back."