Sophie’s eyes froze for a moment as she studied my expression.

She realized I was serious this time. But even so, she refused to apologize in front of everyone.

Her tone turned cold as she gritted her teeth.

“Fine. It’s just 300,000. I’ll transfer it.”

She pulled out her phone and tapped the screen a few times, pretending to complete the transaction.

“I’ve sent it. Don’t ever talk to me again!”

Despite her performance, no transfer notification came through.

Ethan, unaware she was faking it, reached over excitedly to check her phone so he could withdraw the money.

But after scanning for a while, confusion crept over his face.

“Wait… Sophie, I don’t see any transfer record. Which app did you use? Which bank? Tell me—I’ll get the money out.”

I nearly laughed out loud. Sophie’s face flushed crimson. She snapped at him in a panic:

“Shut up!”

She tried to drag him away, but I stepped forward and blocked them.

“If you really wanted to transfer the money, just do it honestly. Why the show? I haven’t received anything. So what are you trying to pull here?”

“You look down on my money, but still enjoy eating soft rice? Hypocrisy much?”

Just to be clear, I held up my phone and opened all the major payment apps, showing everyone there were no incoming transfers.

Sophie hadn’t expected me to completely strip her dignity like this in public. Her expression stiffened.

Then she forced a smile.

“It’s probably a network delay. The money didn’t go through. I’ll send it again.”

This time, the payment notification chimed loudly.

[You have received 42,000 dollars]

She looked like she’d just swallowed poison, but still tried to keep her pride:

“See? I don’t care about your money. I can buy whatever I want with or without you.”

I smiled as I checked the balance.

“Good. The money’s in. Now we’re done. Clean break. From now on, we have nothing to do with each other.”

I turned to leave with Liam.

But Sophie grabbed my arm.

“Wait! You haven’t apologized to Ethan yet! You still owe him an explanation for isolating him!”

Her voice rang out in front of the whole class.

Ah, right—Ethan hadn’t finished smearing my name yet.

Thankfully, I used to dine in private rooms at my family’s restaurant, and there were always surveillance cameras running.

I made a quick call and soon after, posted a video clip to the class group chat. It showed all four of us dining together—no one left out.

“If you’re wondering whether we excluded him, just check the video in the group.”

With that, I walked out with my roommates.

By the time we arrived at the salon, the class group chat was already exploding:

[Seriously? He’s been crying poor this whole time while freeloading off others? Gross.]

[Forget Julian Reed—if I saw someone like Ethan coming, I’d cross the street.]

Ethan, seeing the backlash, sent a crying emoji and claimed I faked the video out of spite.

But no one was buying it.

His act had collapsed.

He started spamming my phone with messages, begging me to explain and “clear things up.”

Not long after, Sophie messaged me too:

[Julian, I’m so disappointed in you. Just a little misunderstanding, and you had to slander Ethan like that?]

[He’s emotionally devastated. You need to apologize, return the 300,000, and transfer 100,000 more as compensation—or I’ll never forgive you. We’re over for good.]

Her righteous tone while asking for money was so ridiculous, I actually laughed.

Did she really think I was her personal ATM?

That’s when a memory suddenly resurfaced.

In my previous life, after Ethan started changing his hairstyle, hiring a personal trainer, and buying luxury brands, people had asked him how he could afford it all.

He always answered smugly, “From part-time work.”

I believed him—until I overheard him and Sophie whispering about how they’d milked me dry.

How he mocked me for being born lucky, all while sucking me dry without guilt.

Thinking about it again now ruined my good mood.

I typed a final reply and hit send:

“Get lost.”

Just as I was about to block Sophie for good, a new notification popped up—an intimate payment alert.

It was a charge from the hair salon.

My hand froze.

Anger surged through me as I opened the detailed transaction history. My fingers trembled as I scrolled through the long list of charges.

Men’s underwear. Condoms. Restaurant bills. Hotel stays.

The earliest transaction dated back to March of last year.

So they had already started betraying me that early?

Without hesitation, I posted a screenshot directly in the class group and tagged Sophie.

[@Sophie] So this is how you’ve been using my intimate payment service? Keeping a man on the side while spending my money?

Before she could reply, I tagged Ethan too.

[@Ethan] Having fun? Happy now? A scumbag and a gold digger—what a perfect match.

I immediately unlinked the payment connection and began calling every business I’d ever recharged a membership card with.

Effective immediately, no one could use my name or money except me.

---

Meanwhile, Sophie had just paid for Ethan’s first perm using the intimate payment service—only to find the payment didn’t go through.

She thought it was a bug. Logged out, logged back in. Tried again.

Nothing.

The hairdresser grew suspicious, watching her every move like she might run off.

Ethan, oblivious, urged her under his breath.

“Sophie, come on. Just pay it first. I’ll make it up to you later.”

With no other choice, she switched to her personal account and paid with her own money.

When the confirmation beep sounded, Sophie let out a shriek.

“4,000?! For one haircut? Are you serious?! Ethan, were we scammed?!”

The stylist raised an eyebrow and sneered.

“This is a premium salon. 4,000 is standard. If you can’t afford it, don’t sit in the chair.”

Sophie’s face turned pale, then flushed with humiliation.

At that moment, her phone buzzed wildly—99+ unread group messages.

She nearly fainted.

She tried to message me in fury, but realized she’d been blocked.

---

I, on the other hand, was in a good mood, enjoying my new hairstyle.

Liam dyed his hair a bold blond. Noah went with a Morgan perm.

I chose a slicked-back style—clean, cool, and impossible to copy.

When I thought about Ethan’s face the next day, I almost laughed out loud. I nearly posted it to my Instagram story but held back. No need to tip him off too soon.

---

The next morning, just before class, I stepped into the corridor.

Someone called out my name—but it wasn’t directed at me.

I turned my head just in time to see one of the class committee members smiling… at Ethan’s back.

Ethan had gotten his hair permed to mimic mine again.

He turned around with a smug grin. “Hey, I’m not Julian. Guess I just look too much like him, huh? You’re not the only one who’s been confused today.”

I walked over, eyes cold, and cut in:

“Alike? You and me? Really, Ethan? I’m taller, my skin’s lighter, and my eyes aren’t tiny slits. Let’s not lie to ourselves, okay?”

The class rep blinked, finally noticing my new look. His eyes widened.

“Oh wow—yeah, you two don’t look alike at all. I just saw the same American front fringe and got confused.”

Then he clapped me on the shoulder, beaming.

“But dude, your new hairstyle is amazing. Way cooler than before. Who’s your stylist? Hook me up—I want the same treatment.”

Other classmates chimed in:

“Yeah, you look like Beckham with that slick-back. It suits you perfectly.”

“This is definitely a custom style. If anyone tries to copy you now, it’ll be obvious who came first.”

Ethan’s face turned bright red. His mouth twisted, and he stomped his foot.

“What are you trying to say? That I copied him? That I want to look like him? What’s so great about being a spoiled rich second gen anyway?!”

But even as he ranted, his envious gaze lingered on my hair.

“It’s so ugly. Who told you to get a slicked-back hairstyle? It doesn’t suit you at all!”

Ethan’s voice dripped with bitterness, but I couldn’t even be bothered to get angry.

Instead, I casually ran my fingers through my hair and smiled smugly.

“Oh? I happen to like it.”

I brushed past him, but he chased after me again.

“Sophie won’t like this new look! She liked the old you better—you should change it back, quickly!”

Afraid I wouldn’t believe him, he dragged Sophie over and shoved her in front of me.

“Right, Sophie? Tell him. You liked the way he looked before, didn’t you?”

Sophie looked at me, her ears turning red, lips trembling like she was about to seize. She said nothing.

Ethan, frustrated, shoved me and stormed off toward the classroom.

“You’re insane! If something’s wrong with you, go get treatment!”

I calmly pushed him back. “And if something’s wrong with you, go back to the factory settings.”

---

During the break, Noah returned from the restroom and leaned in close, whispering:

“I just caught Ethan on the phone—he scheduled a tattoo appointment this afternoon. Guess what design he gave the artist? The one you sent in our group chat two days ago.”

He glanced around and lowered his voice further.

“If I hadn’t accidentally glanced at his screen, I wouldn’t have known he was still spying on you.”

That sparked a little idea in my head.

I had originally planned to block him and be done with it—but this was too good to pass up.

“That’s great,” I said. “Maybe I should change my tattoo now.”