After learning that I had a monthly living allowance of 500,000 dollars, my childhood friend and boyfriend, Scarlet Voss, started copying everything I did.

I had naturally curly hair—so she curled her long, straight black hair.

I got a new manicure—she took a photo of it and visited twenty different salons just to replicate it.

I wore luxury brands—she skipped classes, took on five part-time jobs a day, and bought the same ones.

At first, I thought she was just a harmless copycat. But a month later, I was diagnosed with a terminal illness and died swiftly.

As I closed my eyes for the last time, the family who once adored me didn’t even come to say goodbye. Instead, they patted my roommate’s head and called her by my name.

I was devastated. What on earth had happened?

After death, my soul lingered—and drifted toward Scarlet Voss.

She had moved into my room and was curled up in my boyfriend's arms, smiling smugly.

“Thank you, Brother Ethan,” she said sweetly. “If you hadn’t helped fund me, I’d never have had the money to imitate her, steal her luck through the system, and become her. Everything she had is mine now.”

So that’s where it all went wrong—it was the system she used.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day Scarlet first asked to perm her hair like mine.

——

The sound of a camera shutter broke the silence, followed by a flash. Scarlet, who was secretly taking pictures again, quickly hid her phone.

Beside me, my friend Sabrina Kaye leaned over and whispered in my ear:

“Celeste, want me to check if she’s taking photos of you? Lately, I always catch her pointing her phone at you—she’s like an obsessed fan. I really can’t take it anymore.”

I shook my head and gestured for her to ignore it.

In my past life, I’d confronted her—demanded she hand over the photos.

But her phone was empty, and I ended up being accused of bullying her.

That same night, her previously straight hair was suddenly permed to match mine—same color, same curl, same length.

After that, even my friends began mistaking her for me from behind.

Remembering the system she mentioned, I texted my personal stylist:

“Sis, I’m tired of my curls. Design me a hairstyle that’s so unique no one can copy it. Do it well, and I’ll give you a bonus.”

She was excited and sent a photo right away: a team of seven or eight stylists in a design meeting for my new look.

I smiled, locked my phone, and turned to Tessa Wynn.

“Let’s go get haircuts later. Invite Lydia Quinn too—my treat.”

“Alright! But only if you let Lydia and me treat you to dinner after. We don’t want to mooch off you all the time.”

I was about to reply when Scarlet’s shrill voice interrupted from behind.

“Where are you eating? Why didn’t you invite me? We’re dormmates—why are you excluding me? Celeste, do you think you’re better than me?”

Her voice was so loud that it drew the attention of the entire class.

Noticing everyone’s stares, she immediately switched to a pitiful tone and lowered her head.

“I know you’re all from wealthy local families. I’m just a girl from a small town—you must all look down on me. But I really just want to be friends.”

But her idea of friendship?

Every time we went out, she used her supposed poverty to dodge the bill.

Whenever we insisted she pay, she guilt-tripped us with sob stories—how hard her life was, how little she had.

After enough of that, none of us wanted to hang out with her anymore.

Just as I was about to pull out my phone and show everyone the evidence, Ethan Granger—my boyfriend and the class monitor—suddenly jumped out like some white knight.

“Celeste, didn’t I tell you already? I can’t stand domineering girls. Just because your family has a bit of money doesn’t mean you can bully others!”

"Scarlet may not come from a wealthy family like yours, but she's better than all of you born with silver spoons in your mouths. Coming from a small town and still getting into the same university—don’t you see how hard she’s worked..."

Listening to him go on and on about "poverty" and watching him defend Scarlet so righteously made me feel sick.

If my family hadn’t sponsored him, he’d still be stuck in that remote village, turning screws in a factory.

If I hadn’t begged my parents to give him an extra living allowance, if I hadn’t bought him luxury items, how could he have ever pretended to come from a well-off family, looking all polished and refined?

But Ethan wasn’t grateful at all. He resented the scent of money on me.

Worse, he knowingly used my family’s money to help Scarlet—the same girl who was scheming to replace me.

Recalling the nauseating image of him embracing Scarlet in my past life, I took out my phone and immediately messaged my parents.

Starting today, the company will cut all funding to Ethan.

Let him and Scarlet enjoy life as a "hardworking part-time couple."

Noticing I was still on my phone, Ethan grew even more agitated.

"Celeste Marlowe, don’t you think you’ve done anything wrong?"

"I, Ethan, can’t accept a girl as domineering and unreasonable as you. If you know you’re wrong, then apologize to Scarlet right now and make it up to her, or else I..."

"What are you going to do?" I asked coldly.

Ethan thought I was afraid, and raised his voice.

"If you don’t apologize, I’ll break up with you!"

In the past, just hearing the words “break up” would have made me cave instantly.

After all, he saved me from those gangsters two years ago. I’d always obeyed him out of gratitude for that.

But after experiencing a strange and untimely death in my previous life, I was no longer a girl who saw nothing but love.

"Then break up," I said without hesitation.

Lifting my gaze from the phone screen to his face, I continued,

"Fine, we’ll break up. Since you’re so offended by my money, you must not value it at all. In that case, return the 300,000 dollars I spent on you over the years. Transfer it back—now."

He stiffened at first when I mentioned breaking up, but when I brought up money, he suddenly relaxed.

He thought I was just bluffing—acting out of emotion, playing hard to get.

After all, I’d always been generous to him. There was no way I’d really ask for my money back.

Putting on an act, he said,

"Fine, I’ll return it. I don’t need your money anyway."

But Scarlet, who had used that money to imitate me, was immediately upset.

"No! Brother Ethan, you can’t give her anything! You’re dating—why should she take money back from you?!"

"And didn’t you spend money on her when you were together? Probably even more than she did on you! She’s asking for 300,000? You'd better tally everything so she doesn’t take advantage."

Ethan knew exactly how much he’d spent. He felt guilty, but kept pretending to be noble.

"It’s alright, Scarlet. Celeste’s my girlfriend. If she wants it, I’ll give it to her."

He even winked at me while speaking, as if asking me to let it slide—again.

In the past, I would’ve stayed silent for the sake of his pride.

But this time, I opened the gift record on my phone.

"You gave me a rose in May 2023, a silver earring in August, and a ceramic bowl in October. That’s everything I received in three years. The total value? Maybe 500 dollars…"

Then I looked up at him again.

"Ethan, do you want me to list in front of our classmates exactly how you used my money? Or should I send the payment log to the class group chat for everyone to see?"

Ethan froze on the spot, scanning my face for even the slightest hesitation.

He realized I was serious, but still refused to apologize in front of everyone.

His expression hardened as he clenched his jaw.

"Fine, it’s just 300,000. I’ll transfer it."

He pulled out his phone and jabbed at the screen.

"I’ve sent the money. Don’t ever come looking for me again!"

Despite his words, no transfer notification came through.

Scarlet, unaware he was faking it, thought the money had really been sent.

She snatched the phone from his hands, eager to withdraw it.

But after searching for a while, her expression turned confused.

"Brother Ethan, I don’t see the transfer record. Which bank did you use? Tell me so I can withdraw it."

I nearly burst out laughing.

Ethan's face flushed, and he barked at her to shut up, trying to drag her away.

I stepped in front of them.

"Ethan, if you really plan to transfer the money, do it properly. Why fake it? I haven’t received a thing. Why are you playing games with me? You look down on my money, but still live off it and enjoy every bit?"

Afraid the crowd wouldn’t believe me, I raised my phone and showed every major payment platform—no incoming funds.

Ethan hadn’t expected I’d truly expose him in front of everyone.

"It must be a bad signal—the money hasn’t arrived yet! I’ll do it again."

This time, the system voice rang out clearly: a 300,000-dollar transfer confirmed.

Ethan’s face twisted with visible pain, though he still forced a smug tone.

"See? I don’t care about your money at all."

I glanced at the confirmed balance and gave a satisfied smile.

"Good. The money’s received. We’re done here—no more ties between us."

I turned to pull Tessa away, but Ethan grabbed my wrist.

"You still haven’t apologized to Scarlet for excluding her! You’re not leaving!"

His words reminded me—Scarlet hadn’t yet flung her lies back at me.

Fortunately, I had foresight. I used to dine often at my family’s restaurant and always requested a private room with surveillance.

I called the manager, had them extract the video of the four of us eating out together, and posted it to our class group chat.

"You want to know why we stopped inviting her? Watch the footage and see for yourselves."

With that, I left with my roommates.

By the time we arrived at the salon, the class group was in chaos.

【Wow, how can someone be so proud while freeloading? She’s shameless.】

【Don’t blame Celeste and the others. If I were them, I’d avoid her too.】

As the backlash grew, Scarlet posted a crying emoji, claiming I held a grudge and that the video was fake.

But no one was buying it.

People aren’t fools.

In a panic, she began bombarding me with messages, begging me to clarify.

Ethan also joined in, flooding my inbox with self-righteous demands.

【Celeste, I’m so disappointed in you. Isn’t this just a little misunderstanding? Did you really have to slander Scarlet like that?】

【You hurt her. You need to apologize, return the 300,000, and transfer another 100,000 as compensation. Otherwise, I really won’t forgive you, and we’ll never get back together again.】

His righteous tone while begging for money made me laugh out loud.

Did he seriously think I was an ATM?

But his idiocy triggered a memory.

In my last life, when Scarlet changed her hairstyle, bought luxury bags, and got manicures, someone asked how she could afford it all.

She said she earned it through part-time work.

I believed that—until I heard her and Ethan’s conversation right before I died.

That’s when I realized she mocked me for my privileged background while bleeding me dry without shame.

My mood instantly soured.

I replied with just one word:

"Scram."

Just as I was about to block him with a single tap, a notification popped up—

a transfer alert from the "Intimate Payment" app.