I heard from the hospital staff that it was a medical dispute. My father had accidentally caused the death of a patient on the operating table, and the patient's family pursued him for months, spreading rumors that he was a quack. In the end, just as they wished, he was struck in the head by a ventilator and died.

"In my eyes, Dr. Braun shouldn't have operated the surgery if he didn't have the skill to save lives."

From that day on, my life was shrouded in darkness.

After the SAT exam, I returned home to find my mother lying on the floor, an empty bottle of sleeping pills beside her.

She followed my father to the grave.

I wasn't really surprised. After my father's death, she had lost all hope for life and was seeking an escape. She simply chose to leave after my exams so as not to delay me.

"Annika, remember, your father was a good doctor. He never wronged anyone," she would grasp my arm at night, her eyes vacant, repeating this over and over.

Overnight, I became an orphan. My home was gone, and everyone I loved had died. I had no idea how I endured those three months of summer vacation.

So it was no wonder that on the first day of college when I saw Willie, I rushed over to him with tears in my eyes.

"Willie…" My voice trembled, but just as I uttered his name, he pushed me away.

He straightened his clothes with a hint of disdain, looking at me with such indifference that I almost thought I had mistaken him for someone else.

Had he forgotten me?

"Annika."

He called my name.

I thought he recognized me, and with red-rimmed eyes, I reached out, wanting to share all my grievances and pain.

But I heard him scoff.

His lips curled into a lazy smile, a familiar shadow barely discernible beneath his aloof demeanor. But his words were so harsh. "Annika, as the daughter of a murderer, what right do you have to attend such a good school?"

I was stunned.

The last hope in my heart seemed to disappear, and everything before me grew hazy; his face twisted and wavered in the scorching sun.

For a moment, tears streamed down my face, and I almost leaped off the building.

He was my last hope. How could he utter such hurtful words?

Just as I was about to faint, a pair of hands caught my waist.

I couldn't tell if it was a hallucination or reality, but I heard Willie's urgent breaths by my ear, "Still fainting so easily, huh?"

For him to speak to me like that, he must have detested me deeply; why would he care if I fainted?

At the same time, a mechanical voice sounded in my mind: [Congratulations, host, you have activated the quest. You can choose to pursue Willie. If successful, you may die.]

[If you fail, you will continue to cycle through this world.]

I closed my eyes as tears slipped down my cheeks.

Willie, do you know how I've been cyberbullied and mocked by strangers these days? People spat at me in the street, calling me the daughter of a murderer.

How can the boy who once promised to stand up for me join them in bullying me?

[Please make your choice.]

The system repeated mechanically in my mind.

[Ten.]

[Nine.]

[Eight.]

…

[Zoe, I accept.] With that final decision in my chaotic mind, I lost consciousness.

I didn't want to face the strange looks of the one I loved, nor did I want to live in a world devoid of hope.

Perhaps, death was my only release.

When I woke up, a familiar face was before me.

Willie leaned against my hospital bed, propping his head up with his hand, eyes closed as if asleep, yet his brows were tightly furrowed as if he was trapped in a nightmare.

There were dark circles under his eyes; he must not have slept well for several days.

Willie, was that just a dream?

As if in a trance, I reached out to touch his face.

His eyes suddenly snapped open, bloodshot, and filled with a mixture of sorrow and anger that nearly consumed me.

In an instant, his expression turned cold again as he swatted my hand away.

"I'll go call the doctor." He began to stand, but I grabbed the hem of his shirt.

"Willie, do you still believe in me?"

His expression was a mix of emotions, ultimately settling into disdain as he said slowly, "No."

It felt like a knife slicing through my heart.

I had no idea what he had experienced over the past year that made him loathe me so deeply.

There was a part of me that resisted this reality, wanting to let go completely.

I asked numbly, "Why?"

"Annika, it was my mother who was killed. Tell me, what reason do I have to trust you?"

His words struck me like a thunderclap, shattering my world into pieces.

So my family and his family were responsible for each other's tragedies?

But why had my mother told me that my father had never wronged anyone?