My best friend, Sydney Cox, is a troublemaker by nature. She thinks everyone around her owes her a good life.

During summer break, she insisted on working in a factory. I was worried that she might get tricked, so I let her work in my family's factory out of the kindness of my own heart. In fact, I even gave her the easiest position with the lightest work.

But I didn't expect her to think that her salary was lower than that of the veteran employees in the factory, leading to her setting fire to my neighborhood.

The blaze was far too strong. Even though the firefighters came as soon as possible, my family and I still ended up dying in the fire.

When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before Sydney's first day in a factory.

"Chloe, what do you think about this factory? Their benefits are enticing."

Sydney Cox's voice left me in a daze. Didn't she, my very best friend, set me on fire and burn me alive?

"Hey, say something," she grumbled, elbowing me sharply.

The pain snapping through my arm made me realize that I had been reborn—not just that, but on the day before she started work at the factory.

In my previous life, I invited her to join my family's factory because I was afraid she might get scammed into working at a sweatshop. On paper, she was there to work, but in reality, she was only there to have fun.

Sydney and I lived and ate together. In a day, she would spend about two hours, at most, on the production line. Mom and Dad also sympathized with her situation, so they turned a blind eye to her inaction.

Ultimately, when Sydney found out her salary was slightly lower than that of a veteran employee, she accused my parents of using her for cheap labor. That night, she set our house on fire, burning me and my family alive.

Thankfully, fate was on my side. It gave me a second chance to make things right while I could.

Watching Sydney select her choice of factory, I could hardly suppress my smile. That place was infamous for being a sweatshop that particularly scammed people from out of town.

They would always lure their victims in with grand promises, only to slash wages later under every pretext. Sometimes, the victim might even have to pay out of pocket.

"What are you smiling about?" Sydney snapped, tossing her phone to the floor.

I quickly pulled my face straight. "Nothing. I'm just happy for you, finding such a great job with amazing benefits."

At that, she arrogantly raised her chin. "What can I do? I'm too good. And don't worry, once I settle in, I'll put in a good word for you and get you in."

So far, I was most grateful that I hadn't told her about my family's factory. Seeing how hopeful and excited she was, I couldn't help but anticipate what would happen to her in the end.

In this life, I wanted to see just what kind of trouble she would stir at another factory.

One day, Sydney texted me for the first time since starting work. "I'm off for tonight, Chloe. Let's have dinner."

Of course, I couldn't wait to see her.

"Over here!" she exclaimed, excitedly beckoning me over.

When I came closer and saw her, I realized she looked different. I pointed at the gold necklace resting around her neck and asked, "What's with that?"

She touched her neck, then glanced at me shyly. "I think I've found my one true love."

One true love? At a sweatshop? That was no different than discovering trash in a trash can.

I concealed the contempt on my face, replacing it with eager curiosity for the story. "What? Who is it?"

Sydney looked around, ensuring no one we knew was around, then leaned over. "My manager, Mr. Walmsley."

As in, the Fred Walmsley, the manager of that sweatshop?

She quickly covered my mouth before a squeal could escape. "Hey, keep it down! Mr. Walmsley prefers to keep things lowkey."

Keep things lowkey? More like keep it away from his wife's radar.

That old creep had a terrible reputation around here. He was known for preying on new female workers.

I thought he would lie low for a while after his wife beat him up recently, but man, was I wrong. Sydney had become his new target.

"What if he's married? Won't that make you the mistress?" I asked softly.

Sydney pouted, as if not bothered by that label. "I'm not the mistress if I'm the one he loves."

Wow. When did being a mistress come with such lofty excuses?

After chatting for a while, Sydney took the menu and placed a bank card on the table generously. "Eat as much as you want. Everything's on me today."

Her words drew repeated glances from the customers around us. I was so mortified, I wanted nothing more than to crawl under the table.

Sydney, on the other hand, strode over with complete confidence. "Don't bother. I'm not the kind who'll make friends with just anyone."

What a narcissistic fool.

Not long after she returned to the table, food was served. Barely two minutes in, she told me she had to leave. "Hey, Chloe? I have to bounce. My babe misses me. I'll catch you again next time!"

I pretended to hesitate as I looked over the dishes. Sydney looked displeased, but still paid the bill before leaving. After she left, I couldn't help but feel a wave of disgust as I stared at her back.

She killed my family in the previous life, and in this one, I would do anything to watch her sink into eternal ruin.

The next day, I casually packed my bag and headed to Sydney's workplace. I preferred witnessing her downfall every step of the way.

When I showed up, she was shocked and quickly pulled me to a corner. "What are you doing here? You're not jealous and come to take Mr. Walmsley away from me, are you?"

If I could, I would've slapped her across the face, but I held back, knowing I couldn't afford to burn bridges yet. "How could you think of me like that? I'm so worried about you that I ignored my mom's objections just to be here with you."

Honestly, I almost convinced myself.

Knowing she had gone slightly overboard, Sydney softened her tone. "Fine, but I don't have all the time in the world to look after you. Don't bother me unless necessary."

I nodded eagerly. After checking in with the supervisor, Sydney took me to the production line.

Frankly, I had never seen so many lively young men in my life, definitely not in the past 20 years. They kept staring at us the whole way, and some crazier ones even catcalled us.

Sydney didn't mind at all. If anything, she seemed to enjoy the attention.

After chatting with those men for a bit, she took me to the dorm. That was when I experienced a whiplash. A tiny dorm, no bigger than 108 square feet, was packed with about 20 people of both genders.

"You guys live here together?" I asked Sydney.

She lay sprawled across the bed and replied, "Of course. Besides…" She lowered her voice, her tone turning mysterious. "…it gets really fun at night."

I quickly stepped away from Sydney, as if I would catch something from her. She simply guffawed at my reaction. "You really think you're some pampered rich girl? Find somewhere else to stay if you hate it so much.

"And here's a little advice from your best friend. Win the heart of any man in the factory, and you'll win yourself a life of luxury."

A life of luxury? With the help of those lecherous men?

At this point, she might as well admit she had rocks for brains. Those men couldn't be clearer about what they were after.

I ignored her and found myself a relatively safe bunk. If it weren't for witnessing every step of her downfall, I wouldn't be staying here for another second.

After settling in, Sydney disregarded my protests and pulled me outside. She wore a sinister smile, saying, "Come on. They want to meet you."

They? Who were they?

It wasn't until we arrived that I realized they were the very same young men I had seen on the production floor earlier in the afternoon.

"What's up, pretty thing? Why don't I buy you a meal so we can all get to know each other?"

I subtly dodged his hand and forced a smile. "Sure. Thanks."

At the table, Sydney deliberately encouraged me to drink. Looking at those several pairs of ill-intentioned eyes, I instantly knew what was going on.

Seeing the table full of booze but the pitifully small amount of food, I immediately thought of an idea. I slapped my thigh and said, "Hey, I thought we were drinking tonight."

The others looked at me, bewildered.

I continued, "We can't drink on an empty stomach, can we?"

In the next heartbeat, Sydney understood what I meant.

She started urging those men to bring the menu over so we could order more dishes. The moment they heard we wanted extra food, their faces fell, though nobody wanted to be the first to speak up.

Seeing this, Sydney beckoned them to the side. After whispering to the for a few minutes, the men who had looked so sullen earlier suddenly broke into big grins.

Oh, Sydney. In both lives, you would do anything just to put me in harm's way, wouldn't you?

"Done talking? Can I order more food now?" I asked, pretending to look naive as I looked at them.

They were so smug that they grinned devilishly. "Of course! Order whatever you want!"

In that case, I wouldn't hold back.

"This one, this one, this one, and that one," I said to the waiter, tapping the menu. "Oh, and all of these too."

"Can you even finish them?" a green-haired guy asked me.

Before I could answer, Sydney silenced him with her stare. "Let her eat. She'll need all her energy later."

Those cryptic words sent a ripple of excitement through the table. She was right. She should eat more and conserve her energy for what was coming.

The dishes arrived quickly, but I barely had the chance to eat any of them. Instead, they kept asking me to drink, as though eager to get me drunk.

Too bad for them, they had found the wrong target. I had been sneaking Dad's booze since I was ten, and though I might not be able to drink anyone under the table, handling these men was more than enough for me.

When the timing felt right, I pretended to lose my balance and collapsed onto the table. The men leaned in to check if I was still conscious. I grabbed one of them by the wrist, and they jumped in surprise.

"Restroom," I slurred. "I'll be right back for another round."

Then, I staggered off to the restroom.

Standing around the corner, I smirked as I looked at Sydney, completely wasted and lying sprawled on the table.

The next time I saw her, it was the following afternoon. She walked toward me, limping, her gaze filled with resentment. "Where on earth did you go last night?"

Last night?

I propped my chin on my hand, pretending to think. "Oh, I ran into my mom when heading to the restroom last night. She was so dead-set on dragging me home, and it took me so much effort to escape this morning."

My response left Sydney no way to refute or throw a tantrum. All she could do was motion me over to support her. As soon as I neared her, though, I caught a whiff of something unpleasant. Immediately, I jumped to the side.

She glared at me, then steadied herself against the wall without relying on my help.

"Oh, right…" I began, and she quickly turned to look back at me. "Mr. Walmsley was looking for you this morning, but I told him you weren't here."

At the mention of Fred, she turned unreasonably feisty and clutched my collar. "You bitch! Were you trying to replace me while I was gone? Don't even dream about it! Mr. Walmsley said I'm the only one he loves!"

I scoffed and pushed her hand away. "That insecure, huh?"

She glared viciously at me, her fists clenching into balls.

"I'm just kidding," I said with a chuckle. "We're best friends. Why would I ever steal your man?"

At that, Sydney finally relaxed.

"Still, I should remind you to get a checkup," I added. "You'll never know if you'll catch anything from them."

Her face flushed red in an instant. "Mind your business," she muttered and walked off.

As I watched her awkward gait, I couldn't help but feel a strange sense of satisfaction.

Maybe this was what it felt like to shoot oneself in the foot. I wouldn't know, though, for Sydney would soon be the one getting used to it instead.

"Come on out," I said toward the corner.