The day before finals. The class heartthrob's birthday.

Samantha Gilbert—class president and said heartthrob's girlfriend—proposed that everyone hit a bar to celebrate, a pre-exam send-off for the Elite Track.

The top students voted unanimously in favor.

In my last life, I was the academic chair. I'd blocked that absurd idea, argued that the night before the most important exam of our lives was no time for alcohol and parties—that it would wreck everyone's performance.

Samantha's face went cold. "You're jealous again."

Our classmates sneered. "Always acting so above it all. You're just bitter that Samantha treats Roger so well."

I ignored their mockery. I begged them not to go.

I even stayed up calling each of them, one by one, confirming they were home and resting. The next morning, I waited at the exam site in the sweltering heat, phoning everyone to make sure they left on time.

They crushed the exam.

But when scores came out, so did the news—Roger James had gone to that bar alone to celebrate. A wealthy woman had taken interest. He'd been found beaten nearly to death, bones shattered, bleeding out. Rushed to the hospital.

When Samantha heard, she lost her mind.

She rallied the entire class. They pushed me off the roof.

I died on impact.

When police questioned them, they lied in perfect unison:

"He threatened us. Said if anyone tried to help Roger, they could forget about taking the exam."

"He got scared when it backfired. Jumped."

Those calls I'd made that night? The security footage of me counting heads at the exam site? All twisted into "evidence" of my guilt.

The internet tore me apart. Some psycho doused my family's home in motor oil and set it ablaze.

My parents burned alive.

Samantha lived next door. She stood on her balcony, arms crossed, watching my mother and father scream themselves hoarse—and only called the fire department after they stopped.

I didn't learn the truth until after I died.

Roger James had orchestrated everything.

Now I'm back.

When Samantha laced her fingers through Roger's and announced, all smiles, "See everyone at the bar tonight—"

I grabbed my bag and walked out.

This time, let them make their own mess.

I'm done trying to save people who'd sooner see me dead.

1.

"Even though he bullied me over family stuff and threatened our classmates not to rescue me... he's gone now. I forgive him."

He sighed, perfectly rehearsed. "But I have trauma around the exam now. I can't bring myself to retake it. I've decided to study abroad instead. I know I promised everyone I'd get into Stonebridge University—I'm sorry to let you down."

He'd built his whole persona on being the "genius heartthrob," the guy destined for the nation's top school.

His followers ate it up. Called him an inspiration, a survivor who rose above tragedy. He gained a million new fans overnight.

The second the stream ended, he was tangled up with his sugar mama, smirking ear to ear:

"I cheated on every single test. If I'd actually sat for finals, I'd have been exposed in a heartbeat. Lucky I came up with this scheme—and bonus, it covered up your husband finding out about us and landing me in the hospital."

He stretched lazily. "Originally, I was gonna lure Samantha to the bar that night. Get her pregnant. Marry into money. But that dog Daryl Shepherd ruined it."

A shrug. "Whatever. Samantha's so broken up about what happened, she swore she'd marry me the second I recover."

His laughter cut through me like shattered glass.

I wanted to claw his throat out.

Then—

A voice. Familiar. Dripping with contempt.

"Daryl Shepherd, what's with that face?"

"Roger's birthday wish was to celebrate with the whole class. He invited you. The least you could do is act grateful instead of standing there looking disgusted."

"Then again, Roger streams every day and still outranks Daryl. Meanwhile, Daryl grinds himself to death just to place third. Jealousy's an ugly look."

"He's been kissing up to Samantha so obviously, and she doesn't even give him the time of day. Now that she's throwing a birthday party for Roger, he's totally losing it."

I froze, the realization hitting me like a thunderbolt—this was the night before the college entrance exam.

I pinched myself. Hard.

It hurt. But I was trembling—not from pain, but from sheer, overwhelming excitement.

I've actually been reborn.

Seeing me standing there with my head down, saying nothing, a few classmates who'd always been decent to me spoke up.

"Are we being too harsh? Daryl was just looking out for us..."

Roger let out a theatrical sigh.

"Daryl, I had no idea you hated me this much. Cursing everyone to bomb their exams? Come on. We're the Elite Track—you really think one birthday outing is going to tank our scores?"

Samantha immediately stepped in front of him, her voice dripping with contempt.

"Don't waste your concern on us. We're not like you—so terrified of a little test that you're running to the bathroom every five minutes. And then you blame your garbage scores on a few extra trips?"

She tossed her hair. "The college entrance exam is nothing. For geniuses like us, it's a breeze."

The whole class erupted in laughter.

My fists clenched. A dull ache spread through my chest.

During the placement exam in junior year, stress had wrecked my stomach. Every time I tried to focus, I'd need the bathroom. The constant interruptions destroyed my concentration, and I'd missed the cutoff for the Elite Track by a handful of points.

Afterward, I'd hidden in an empty study room, drowning in disappointment.

Samantha had found me there. She'd rushed in and thrown her arms around me, her voice soft with concern.

"I had my housekeeper make congee for you. You need to eat something. I knew you'd be hiding somewhere, beating yourself up over this." She'd squeezed my hand. "It's okay. One bad exam doesn't define you. There's always next time. I'll tutor you myself—and we'll get into the same university together..."

But the moment Roger transferred in, everything changed.

I took a deep breath and unclenched my fists.

Ignoring their laughter, I gathered my things and slung my bag over my shoulder.

"You're right. Since that's how it is, have fun tonight."

I didn't explode the way they expected. I didn't cry.

Their laughter died in their throats, the sport suddenly gone out of their mockery.

Someone shrugged and turned back to the group, enthusiasm rekindled. "Let's do the fruit wine—only three percent alcohol. Definitely won't affect the exam."

I let out a quiet scoff.

One glass of that bar's fruit wine could flatten a grown adult. Dad's hospital regularly admitted people with alcohol poisoning from that exact place.

In my past life, that was precisely why I'd begged them not to go.

But this time? I wasn't going to stop anyone.

I shouldered my bag and headed for the door.

But Samantha didn't look satisfied. If anything, her brow furrowed deeper as she watched me.

The moment I moved to leave, her hand shot out and locked around my wrist.

"No. You're coming with us."

The room went silent. Everyone stared at me in confusion.

"Why would he come? He'll just kill the vibe and bring everyone down."

Roger's expression shifted to concern—the practiced kind.

"What if Daryl comes tonight and bombs his exam tomorrow? He'll blame me for ruining his score. I can't deal with that kind of guilt."

His eyes were wary, guarded—like he was terrified I might actually take Samantha up on her offer.

And why wouldn't he be? If I tagged along, how was he supposed to get her tipsy and make his move?

Samantha let out a sharp laugh.

"Daryl's too clever for his own good. Don't you remember what happened during the Dragon Boat Festival break? The English teacher forgot to assign homework, and this one"—she jerked her chin at me—"actually called her to ask for worksheets. Then he texted every single one of you to make sure you knew. Ruined the entire holiday."

The classroom went dead quiet. The looks people gave me shifted—harder now, resentful.

I smiled, bitter and self-mocking.

Those worksheets were practice exams from the top prep school in the province. They'd predicted dozens of actual test questions the year before. The teacher had specifically requested them to help boost everyone's scores.

I was afraid everyone would miss the exam, so I reminded them one by one.

But what I thought was being responsible turned out to be a crime in their eyes.

Samantha looked at me with mockery dripping from her gaze.

"Watch—he'll run home and call our parents again. Little snitch."

I finally snapped. "I don't have time for that."

I forced my voice steady. "I promise I won't say anything. I won't call anyone. Okay? I just want to go home, rest, and do well on the exam tomorrow."

I tried to pry her fingers off my arm, but she used the motion to snatch my bag instead.

"What are you doing?!" I shouted, my stomach plummeting.

The next second, she pulled out my exam admission ticket and waved it in the air.

The blood drained from my face. I lunged for it. "Are you insane? Give it back!"

Samantha tossed it to Roger like she was playing fetch with a dog. Roger flicked it to another classmate.

They watched me scramble back and forth, grabbing at air, and laughed like it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen.

Samantha looked down at me, queen to peasant.

"Your promises mean nothing to me. The ticket's mine now. You want to take that exam tomorrow? Then behave. Don't ruin Roger's birthday."

My eyes burned. My voice shook.

"Samantha, give it back. Don't make me hate you."

Something flickered in her expression when she saw the raw hatred in my eyes. Her tone softened—just a fraction.

"All you have to do is keep your mouth shut, and I'll return it. We promised we'd get into the same university, remember? Of course I'll give it back."

"Just don't ruin Roger's eighteenth birthday."

I stared at her earnest face, and my heart sank inch by inch.

Eighteen years. We'd grown up together for eighteen years.

And my entire future meant less to her than Roger's party.

My whole body trembled. I couldn't look away from her.

She avoided my gaze, turning to the crowd with a bright smile.

"Crisis averted! Everyone can relax and enjoy the party now."

Roger was on her instantly, pulling her into his arms. His voice dropped low, intimate.

"Thank you, Samantha. This party is the best gift I could ask for."

Her ears flushed red, but she didn't push him away. If anything, she leaned in, her palm settling against his chest.

"As long as you're happy."

The room erupted in catcalls and whistles.

"I don't think the party's his best gift—I think you are, Samantha!"

"You're both legal adults now. A kiss isn't too much to ask, right?"

Samantha swatted at them playfully. "Oh, stop it."

But she couldn't hide the excitement dancing in her eyes.

I stood apart from them, watching. My nails dug into my palms so hard I nearly drew blood.

Laugh. Have your fun.

Let's see if you're still laughing tomorrow when you're staring at your exam papers.

I didn't bother asking for my bag back. I turned to leave.

But they weren't about to let me go.

Samantha's voice rang out like a verdict. "Don't let him leave. Lock him in the gym."

"We'll let him out after the party's over."

I glared at her, thrashing against the hands grabbing me. "You've lost your mind! Let go of me!"

Several guys swarmed in, wrenching my arms behind my back and dragging me toward the abandoned gym.

They hurled me onto the concrete floor. My arm scraped against the rough surface, leaving a smear of blood.

A flicker of hesitation crossed Samantha's face—gone in an instant, replaced by something almost gleeful.

She brought her heel down on my phone. Once. Twice. She didn't stop until the screen went black and stayed that way.

"Don't be so jealous," she said soothingly, like she was calming a child. "Just wait here like a good boy."

"I'm the class president. I'm just helping a classmate celebrate his birthday. If it were your birthday, I'd do the same thing."

"Stay put. I'll come back for you, and we'll walk home together."

The door slammed shut.