It was already noon by the time I walked home on foot.

But as soon as I reached my front door, I found the entire house surrounded by police.

“There he is! He’s the one who stole Uncle Briggs’s dragon-etched jade pendant!”

I was still completely baffled when Oscar suddenly jumped out of a patrol car and rushed over to grab me.

“He’s the thief! Just look at him—you can tell he’s no good!”

“I heard it was a dragon-patterned jade once treasured by a Tang Dynasty emperor—absolutely priceless. This young man got greedy!”

“Scum like him deserves to rot!”

Accusations and jeers exploded all around me, and only then did I begin to realize something was terribly wrong.

Panicked, I scanned the crowd and spotted the elderly antique collector. I dropped to my knees and kowtowed to him, tears in my eyes, begging him to tell the truth and clear my name.

But the man who had once treated me with such warmth now glared down with a face full of rage.

He grabbed my sleeve and shouted, “You shameless thing! You dare steal a national treasure I planned to donate to the museum? I was kind enough to let you into my home, and this is how you repay me? Have you no conscience?”

With both Oscar and the collector pointing fingers at me—and the jade bracelet that had mysteriously shown up in my bag—any words I said in defense sounded hollow and pathetic.

My family and fiancée were dragged into the mess. They lost everything—reputation, money, peace of mind—and were reduced to the laughingstock of the neighborhood.

And me? Before I even made it to prison, I was hacked to death by a group of deranged antique fanatics. They left me in pieces and tossed my body into the wilderness like garbage.

The blood and betrayal of my past life clung to my soul like an old scar—its pain feeding a hatred that burned deep and bright.

But this time, I made sure to stand directly beneath a surveillance camera, with both video footage and a blood test to back me up.

Let’s see who dares pin this on me now.

After the blood draw, I curled up on a cold, hard hospital bench and caught a bit of sleep. Despite the discomfort, I’d never felt more at ease.

When I woke up, the nurse informed me that my blood alcohol level wasn’t high enough to be considered drunk driving. The officers had no choice but to let me go.

It was already noon—I'd perfectly dodged the time when Oscar had framed me in my past life.

To be extra cautious, I shamelessly told the traffic officer that my vehicle had been impounded and politely asked if he could give me a ride home.

He agreed, and the moment I stepped off his motorcycle, a mob of police officers waiting outside my building swarmed toward me.

Leading the charge was none other than Oscar. He rushed at me with tears in his eyes, clutching my hand dramatically.

“Russell! Didn’t we agree to just look at the collection this morning? Why... why did you have to steal something?!”

I stared at him in disbelief, eyes wide open.

Even the traffic officer beside me looked stunned.

I’d spent the entire night and morning at the hospital—how could he still manage to throw dirt on me?

Frowning, I started to explain, “I was questioned for suspected drunk driving last night, and I’ve been—”

But before I could finish, Oscar’s face lit up with fake panic. He cut me off mid-sentence.

“Drunk driving?! Oh my god, Russell, what did you do last night? Even if you were drunk, it’s not an excuse to steal a national treasure!”

The surrounding onlookers, already curious, were now whipped into a frenzy by his words. Anger erupted all around me.

My explanation was drowned in the roar of voices.

In less than a minute, hands grabbed at me from all sides. I couldn’t even count how many blows landed on me. My arms were already bruised in several spots.

Thankfully, the officers nearby realized something was wrong and rushed in to disperse the crowd.

Finally able to catch my breath, I glared at Oscar and shouted, “I wasn’t drunk, and I didn’t steal anything! Can you people stop accusing without evidence?!”

Oscar’s expression darkened for a split second, but he quickly replaced it with a look of concern.

Turning to the officers, he pleaded, “Officers, you heard him, right? My friend is still drunk—he doesn’t know what he’s saying."

“Please, he didn’t mean to steal anything. I beg you, take it easy on him.”

Just as he reached out to drag me toward the patrol car, the officer who had driven me home forcefully pried his hands off me.

The traffic officer suddenly stepped in front of me, blocking Oscar.

“This man has been at the hospital since last night. I just dropped him off here,” he said calmly.

“You’re accusing him of theft—do you have any proof?”

Faced with the officer’s question, Oscar snapped back without thinking, “And who are you? I’m assisting with an investigation. I’d appreciate it if irrelevant parties stopped interfering.”

“He’s a traffic cop,” I said slowly, my voice steady.

The moment I spoke, Oscar’s expression stiffened.

“From the moment I was stopped for suspected drunk driving last night until just now, I’ve been under his watch the entire time.”

As soon as my words fell, everyone fell silent.

The officers immediately turned serious, checking the ID of the now plain-clothed traffic cop. Then they turned to Oscar with a sharp expression.

“If this man has a confirmed alibi, why did you identify him as the thief?”

Oscar clearly hadn’t expected this move. His mouth opened and closed, but no words came out.

Just then, the elderly antique collector stepped forward. His eyes were cold, his brows furrowed, and he pointed a trembling finger at me.

“I can confirm—he’s the thief!”

Seeing the very man who had indirectly caused my tragic death in my past life ignited a fire in my chest. For a moment, my temper flared.

In my previous life, at least I had been inside the collector’s house. Maybe he mistook me for someone else in his old age.

But in this life, I hadn’t even seen him, and hadn’t stepped within ten feet of his property.

So how dare he accuse me?

I clenched my jaw and snapped, “Sir, you can eat whatever you like, but don’t talk nonsense. We don’t even know each other—why are you framing me?”

I stared him down, searching for any flicker of guilt or hesitation in his expression.

Instead, he grabbed my left arm with a hint of triumph flashing in his eyes.

“I have a habit,” he said smugly. “Whenever I invite guests over, I smear a special ink on the outside of my cabinet doors. It’s a blend I created myself—I'd recognize it anywhere.”

As he spoke, he yanked up my sleeve.

A dark brown smudge appeared for all to see.

The crowd fell into stunned silence. Even I was left speechless.

I hadn’t even gone near his house in this lifetime. I had checked my clothes before returning home. So how—

“You’ve always had sticky fingers, but I never thought you’d go this far. Not just stealing, but bribing others to lie for you. You’re truly shameless!”

Oscar jumped in, taking the opportunity to drag my name through the mud. The malice in his eyes was no longer hidden.

Then, he pulled a laptop from his backpack. “I have surveillance footage to submit as evidence.”

The video showed a man in white entering the collector’s home with Oscar at 9:30 a.m. that morning.

The figure’s build, outfit, and even the hairstyle were identical to mine.

The crowd exploded.

“That’s him!”

“You can’t see his face clearly, but anyone with eyes can tell it’s him! He even dared walk into a camera—doesn’t he fear consequences?”

“Young people these days are fearless. Ten years in prison might teach him a lesson!”

Angry shouts crashed down on me like a tidal wave.

Someone kicked me hard from behind. Pain shot through me so suddenly I nearly fainted.

Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to stay upright and shouted hoarsely, “I have video evidence too!”

I exchanged a glance with the traffic officer, who nodded and retrieved the body camera from his motorcycle.

“My identity has been verified,” he said, addressing the officers. “None of this is fake. Mr. Russell has been under observation since last night, and we have full footage from the body cam and his blood test records. All of it confirms his alibi.”

Two conflicting sets of surveillance footage.

Two completely different narratives.

Now, not just the crowd—but the police and the antique collector—were stunned into silence.

One of the officers stepped aside to call the traffic division and the hospital, verifying my whereabouts from the previous night to this morning.

Meanwhile, the collector muttered to himself, clearly shaken. “That can’t be... I would never mistake my ink...”

Under the scrutiny of the growing crowd, Oscar could no longer maintain his mask of false concern. His eyes burned with hatred as he glared at me, teeth clenched.

I met his gaze with a cold, mocking smile and asked casually, “Disappointed that once the police finish their investigation, my name will be cleared?”

To my surprise, Oscar suddenly smiled again, lips curling into a smirk.

“What are you talking about? We’re friends, aren’t we? If you didn’t steal it, of course I’m happy for you.”

Before I could react, he lunged forward and slammed a hand against my side, the movement was swift and precise. His other hand darted toward the pocket at my waist.

In one motion, he yanked open the zipper and shouted sharply, “Officers! The national treasure is on him! Restrain—”

But his voice stopped mid-sentence.

He froze, eyes widening in disbelief as he stared up at me.

“You... you actually—”

I looked down at him calmly, meeting his shocked expression with a smile. “Oh? What’s wrong?”