After dropping out of the EDM competition, I trashed my recording studio.

My “bestie” Betty Rose couldn’t sit still, tagging me on Instagram every single day.

“Margaret, come back to the competition. Even limited talent deserves a chance. Your light shouldn't be hidden in my shadow!”

My boyfriend Leon kept calling, demanding I return and apologize to Betty.

I blocked both of those bitches without hesitation.

In my past life, Betty stole every EDM track I made, releasing them as her own.

Everyone called me a plagiarist while Betty became a famous DJ with millions of followers.

The scandal destroyed my parents, and they died of an overdose.

On my way to court, I was shot and killed by one of Betty's crazed fans.

When I opened my eyes, I was back to the day Betty convinced me to enter this competition.

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1

"I've barely slept for the past two weeks preparing for this competition, just grinding away in the studio, searching for inspiration."

"I just finished a demo for the preliminary round this morning. Since Mixmag is here for an interview, I thought I'd give you all a sneak peek."

Betty’s cloying California sweetheart accent echoed in my ears from the Twitch livestream.

A shiver ran down my spine as I snapped back to reality, away from the searing pain of a bullet tearing through my chest. I looked around, stunned and disoriented.

When the drop I had poured my heart and soul into creating blared from Betty’s MacBook, I almost couldn't catch my breath.

I was sure of it. I had been reborn, sent back to the start of the competition that had ruined my life!

"This is fire! An absolute masterpiece!"

"Totally Betty's signature style—psychedelic and ethereal. That lead synth in the middle? Pure genius! It’s like the God of EDM is showing off!"

"Eargasm! I’m calling it, the competition’s over. Betty is the champion!"

On the large screen of the livestream, the Twitch comment section was scrolling frantically. The number of online viewers had already surpassed one million.

Both online and off, everyone was showering Betty with praise.

But no one knew that the track, from beginning to end, every single beat, was my original work.

That iconic bass line, in particular, was the final version I settled on only after burning out two synthesizers and going through countless rounds of debugging and polishing.

Now, just as it had in the nightmares of my past life, it had inexplicably become a showpiece for Betty.

"Margaret, where's your piece?"

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Betty made a show of calling my name.

"Hey, sweetie, the reporters are here. Hurry up and show them what you've got! This is a great chance to get more followers!"

The comments section was filled with praise for Betty's beauty and kindness, impressed that she'd help a competitor even during a competition.

Some of Betty's fans with good memories recognized me and immediately started firing shots in the comments section.

"Isn't that Margaret Chen, the one who's copied Betty several times? Betty, are you stupid? Why are you helping this copycat!"

"Pfft, it really is that idiot! When other people plagiarize, they at least change the key. She just straight-up copies and pastes Betty's released songs every time. Does she really think changing the filename makes it her own?"

"I heard Margaret was Betty's roommate at Berklee College of Music! I swear, she must be obsessed with copying her bestie!"

"Betty is just too kind for her own good. If it were me, I wouldn't even waste my breath on trash like that!"

Seeing me sitting motionless in my chair, Betty simply stood up, walked over, and opened my MacBook Pro with a smile.

"This is no time to be shy, sweetheart. I'll help you play it!"

She pressed the play button, and the exact same beat from moments ago erupted from the speakers.

"Wait... Margaret, why is my demo on your computer?"

Betty's expression immediately shifted to one of hurt, her eyes already welling with tears.

"This morning, I told you I was having problems with my Logic Pro and asked you to take a look... You... you didn't... back then, did you...?"

The expressions of the surrounding contestants and the panel of judges all changed. They stared at me, their eyes filled with utter disdain and contempt.

"I knew it. That bitch never learns. Stealing Betty's work again!"

"Holy shit, I broke out in a cold sweat. If Betty hadn't gone first, was that bitch really planning to pass this track off as her own for the competition?"

"You can tell this is Betty's style the second you hear it. Margaret is such a clown! Can they just disqualify her already?!"

Just as the live stream’s comment section was screaming for my blood, Betty stood before me once again, delivering a passionate speech to the cameras.

“Everyone, please don’t say that! This competition is a world-class stage. The ultimate champion won’t just receive a massive cash prize, but will also land a record deal with Interscope and become the brightest of stars!”

“With so much on the line, Margaret simply made a mistake in a moment of desperation. I completely understand!”

“I don’t intend to hold her responsible, and I’m asking the judges and the fans to please give Margaret another chance! After all, for every Asian-American producer who makes it on the world stage, our American EDM culture gains another layer of diversity!”

Under the flashing lights of the cameras, Betty looked like a saint, a savior of all mankind, basking in everyone’s praise.

In my past life, even though I was certain I hadn't plagiarized, I was backed into a corner. Unwilling to give up on my dream, I gritted my teeth and continued with the competition.

But who would have known that in every single round, Betty, who performed right before me, would present the track I had just finished, claiming it as her own.

In order to advance, I had no choice but to scramble during the meager break—a mere few dozen minutes—to hastily slap together a subpar version.

Even so, I was still accused by the judges and the audience every single time, who claimed I was crudely imitating Betty's style, a despicable and shameless music thief.

And just like that, Betty skyrocketed to fame as her fanbase exploded, while my own reputation was dragged through the mud.

In the grand finale, besides Betty and me, there was also a famous DJ from Sweden.

The challenge, conducted under fully isolated and live-streamed conditions, was for each contestant to independently compose a one-minute single based on a given theme within two hours, and then present it on the spot.

I was ecstatic at the time, believing that under the scrutiny of the 360-degree, all-seeing cameras, there was absolutely no way Betty could steal my work again.

But who could have guessed that when it was Betty's turn to present, the sound coming from her player would be the very audio track I had finished rendering just a minute before, identical down to the millisecond.

I was utterly dumbfounded, not even realizing when my own turn came.

By the time the judges played my track for me, I was branded a plagiarist forever, with no hope of recovery, a fate that ultimately led to the tragic deaths of my entire family.

Now that fate has given me a second chance, I will turn the tables and expose the real plagiarist for all the world to see.

"Margaret, say something! Anything! Don't just sit there in silence!"

Leon, my boyfriend and manager, urged me frantically through my earpiece from backstage.

He had been one of the few people who 'believed' in me. In my previous life, after my downfall, he had shown me infinite 'support' and even offered to help me investigate.

"Since Betty believes I stole your demo, how about we improvise a new track right now, live on the DJ decks?"

I looked at Betty and spoke slowly.

She was visibly stunned by my words, and the crowd around us sneered in disdain.

"Has this bitch lost her mind? Is she implying Betty copied her?"

"She's completely delusional. Betty is a Berklee-certified genius. Her professors called her a once-in-a-generation talent. How dare a plagiarizing piece of trash like her even question Betty?"

Betty gave me a strange look. She seemed conflicted for a moment before letting out a sigh and nodding.

"Margaret, I know you're just as talented as I am. You've just lost your way."

"So, I'm willing to give you another chance. You have to perform well this time, and don't copy my work again, okay, sweetie?"

Betty's blue eyes seemed to flirt with everyone she looked at.

But her gaze just made me sick.

"Oh my God, Betty is an absolute angel. How can she be so perfect?"

"Margaret, if you have any shame, get the hell out of here!"

"I really don't know how your parents raised a piece of social trash like you. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

The audience was already starting to lose control.

I remained silent, waiting for the organizers' instructions.

Of course, the organizers were more than happy to support this kind of dramatic conflict that would send ratings through the roof. They quickly arranged everything.

"The theme for this round is 'Hope,' and you have twenty minutes. Time is tight, folks, but that's what makes it a true test of skill."

The host's words sent the crowd into a frenzy.

This kind of thrilling, impromptu showdown was incredibly eye-catching, and countless people started placing bets on the outcome.

"Twenty minutes? Margaret won't even have time to plagiarize, will she?"

"Let's see how she fakes her way through this one. Can't she have a little self-awareness and just get lost?"

Almost no one in the audience believed in me.

Just then, my boyfriend, Leon, appeared by my side, cheering me on.

"You can do this, Margaret. Don't be nervous. This is the perfect opportunity to prove yourself!"

Leon cheered me on, his expression completely serious.

I smiled and nodded. His voice always had a way of calming me down instantly.

As the host announced the start, I opened Ableton Live to begin sampling and arranging. Across from me, Betty also started working, completely unruffled.

The minutes and seconds ticked by. Just before the submission deadline, I closed the track I had just created and submitted a different file instead.

I refused to believe it. How could Betty possibly end up with the same track as me this time?

“Alright, we've received submissions from both contestants. And now, let's listen to Betty's original track—'Neon Dreams'!”

As the host’s voice rang out, my heart dropped.

I jerked my head up to look at Betty.

A cold smirk was playing on her lips, and her eyes, filled with derision, were fixed on me!

When that painfully familiar melody filled the venue, I was reeling in confusion.

How did Betty get my file again?