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.

A payment notification came from the hair salon.

My whole body trembled with rage as I scrolled through the previous transaction history—

skirts, women’s underwear, umbrellas... everything.

The earliest purchase dated back to March of last year.

So they had been cheating on me for that long.

I didn’t hesitate to post in the class group and tagged Ethan directly.

[@Ethan — Using my intimate payment to fund your mistress now, are you?]

Without waiting for a reply, I tagged Scarlet.

[@Scarlet — Feeling good? Having fun? A perfect match: the scumbag and the slut.]

Then I unlinked the intimate payment account and called every shop where I had a membership card.

Just in case they tried to take advantage again, I made sure no one could use those except me.

Meanwhile, right after paying for Scarlet’s perm, Ethan found the intimate payment system wasn’t working.

He thought it was a glitch and kept logging out and back in, trying again and again.

The clerk started watching him suspiciously, thinking he was trying to skip out on the bill.

Scarlet, clearly embarrassed, whispered urgently,

"Brother Ethan, please pay quickly. I’ll reward you later, okay?"

Left with no choice, Ethan opened his personal payment code and reluctantly used what little money he had left.

The moment the payment went through, he blurted out,

"Why is it so expensive? It’s just a haircut! Scarlet, were you scammed?"

The clerk shot him a cold glance and muttered,

"This salon caters to high-end clients. Four thousand dollars isn’t even that much. If you can’t afford it, don’t come in."

Ethan’s face turned alternating shades of red and white from embarrassment.

Just then, he noticed 99 unread messages had popped up in the class group chat.

He nearly passed out from anger.

He wanted to lash out at me, but realized I had already blocked him.

Unaware of the chaos unfolding, I was relaxing while getting my hair done.

A few hours later, I had a fresh princess cut, Tessa went blonde, and Lydia got voluminous waves.

Satisfied, I thought about posting it on my Moments feed—

but decided against it, just in case someone was watching.

Still, just thinking about the look on Scarlet’s face tomorrow lifted my mood.

The next morning, before class, I had just stepped into the corridor when I heard someone calling my name.

I turned and saw a student council member staring at Scarlet from behind, mistaking her permed hair for mine.

Scarlet turned around with a shy smile.

"Oh, student council member, I’m not Celeste. Do we really look that much alike? So many people are mistaking me for her today."

My eyes turned icy as I stepped forward.

"Look like me, Hu? Really? My skin isn’t as dark as yours, I’m taller than you, and my eyes aren’t that small. Don’t lie with a straight face."

The student council member blinked, recognizing my new hairstyle, and quickly nodded.

"You’re right. You don’t look like Celeste at all. I only mistook her because of the curls."

She grabbed my hand and smiled sweetly.

"But your new hairstyle is gorgeous—better than before. I won’t confuse you two again."

Other friends joined in:

"Yes! It's stunning. I used to think big waves suited you, but this new cut is even better!"

"It’s so unique, you can tell it was custom-designed. If anyone tries to copy it, they’ll just end up looking like a fool imitating another fool—it’ll never work."

Scarlet’s face turned crimson. She stomped her foot in frustration.

"What’s that supposed to mean? Are you saying I want to look like her? You think I want to be her?"

Her jealous gaze locked onto my hair as she spat,

"It’s ugly! Hideous! Who even told you to get a princess cut? It doesn’t suit you at all!"

I didn’t get angry seeing her like that.

Instead, I gently brushed my fingers through her hair and smiled.

"Really? I just like it."

After knocking her hand away, Scarlet chased after me and blocked my path.

"Ethan won’t like it! He prefers the way you used to look!"

Afraid I wouldn’t believe her, she dragged Ethan in front of me.

"Right, Brother Ethan? You think so too, don’t you?"

Ethan glanced at me, his ears turning red. He trembled like he was having a seizure and couldn’t say a word.

Scarlet was furious and burst into tears, shoving me into the classroom.

"You’re sick! Go see a doctor if you are!"

I cursed back and pushed her away.

During the break, Lydia, who had just come back from the bathroom, leaned over and whispered,

"I overheard Scarlet on a call. She’s booked a manicure this afternoon. Guess what? The style she showed them is the exact same photo you posted two days ago. If I hadn’t bumped into her phone, I’d never have known she’s copying you."

That reminded me—I looked up Scarlet and was about to block her.

But suddenly, I had a better idea and changed my mind.

"Perfect. I’m tired of this manicure anyway. Let’s switch it up."