I once went out of my way to help a severely bullied boy who sat next to me in class. When others tormented him, I stood up for him. Because his family was poor, I brought him breakfast every single day. It lasted until the day he shyly confessed his feelings to me, cheered on by a crowd of our classmates. I rejected him. As a result, sometime later, I overheard him smoking in the school bathroom, boasting to his friends: "Chloe? Please, I played her a long time ago. She acts all pure and innocent, but she practically threw herself at me." Because of those rumors, I fell from grace, transforming from the school's golden girl into a total pariah. When my dad went to his house to demand an explanation, he was brutally hacked to death by the boy's schizophrenic father. My mom couldn't handle the sheer devastation. Not long after, she took her own life to follow him. Meanwhile, that boy reached his hand out to me from the mud. He smiled, a cruel, twisted expression on his face, and said: "Chloe, you used to be so high up in the clouds where I couldn't reach you. Now look at you. You're rotting down here in the mud with me." I opened my eyes. I was back to the very first day that boy transferred to our high school. 1 First period, junior year. My homeroom teacher, Mr. Davis, led a boy with his head bowed low into the classroom. "Class, we have a special transfer student joining us today. I expect everyone to get along with him. There will be absolutely no discrimination in my classroom." Everyone stared at the new kid with burning curiosity. But as he lifted his head, a collective gasp swept through the room. The entire right half of his face was severely burned. He had no eyebrow on that side, and his eye looked like a harsh slit violently carved into the melted skin. Instantly, whispers erupted from the desks around me: "Holy crap! That guy is hideous. There is literally not a single normal feature on that face." "Just our luck. Out of all the junior homerooms, we get the absolute freak." "Looking at his face just made me lose my appetite for lunch." "So gross. How does he even have the nerve to walk outside looking like that?" As the whispers grew louder, the boy's head sank lower and lower. His hands gripped his faded, worn-out jeans in a death grip. My desk-mate nudged me, whispering frantically: "How do you think he got those scars? You think his parents were tweaking and burned him by accident?" My mind violently snapped back to reality. Caleb! I had actually traveled back in time to Caleb's very first day at our school. The exact place where my nightmare began. In my past life, Caleb had faced intense discrimination the moment he transferred. He was the oldest in the class—already 19—but he was shorter than most of the girls. Combined with his terrifying appearance, his personality became incredibly isolated and dark. Almost no one dared to speak to him. But my sense of justice had flared up. I stepped forward, actively inviting Caleb to be my desk-mate. I had even chewed out the students who mocked him. Right now, facing my friend's question, I coldly blurted out: "Who knows? Maybe it's karma." Up front, Mr. Davis was already trying to find Caleb a seat. He told Caleb to pick an empty desk. But wherever Caleb walked, students physically recoiled as if he carried the plague, shrinking away like he was a monster. Finally, Caleb slowly shuffled to a stop right next to me. "C-Can I... can I sit next to you?" This time, I didn't stand up and warmly invite him like I did in my past life. Instead, I stood up, looked directly at Mr. Davis, and said: "Mr. Davis, I don't want to sit next to him. If he insists on this spot, I'm requesting to move my desk right next to the whiteboard at the front." Mr. Davis looked incredibly embarrassed. Caleb stared at me, his eyes flashing with a strange, unreadable emotion. "Chloe, I just emphasized that there will be no discrimination against our new student. This kind of attitude damages our classroom environment." I tuned it completely out. Since God gave me a second chance at life, I absolutely refused to show Caleb a single ounce of kindness. Suddenly, a girl sitting a few rows away sneered: "Some people act so high and mighty because they're the Class President and get straight A's, but they're completely fake. The new kid just wants a seat. Do you really have to look at him with such obvious disgust?" I looked at the girl who spoke up. Harper. In my past life, she had competed against me for the Class President role, but I won the vote. She held a massive grudge ever since, always looking for a reason to drag me down. Later, when Caleb spread those vile rumors about me, she was the one who broadcasted them to the entire grade and gleefully reported me to the principal. She made sure everyone knew. Staring at her now, I scoffed: "Since you're overflowing with so much sympathy, why don't you let the new kid sit next to you?" Harper's smug face froze. She immediately shut her mouth. I kept pushing: "What's wrong? You were just acting like Mother Teresa defending him a second ago. Why are you backing down now? Or could it be that, deep down, you actually think he's too hideous to look at?" I intentionally emphasized the word "hideous." I could clearly feel Caleb trembling beside me. His head sank even further toward his chest. Agitated by my taunt, Harper snapped: "Chloe, do you have to be such a bitch? Mr. Davis, the new kid can sit with me. I'm not a shallow snob." In the end, Caleb became Harper's desk-mate. I watched as Harper visibly swallowed her revulsion while forcing a fake, careless smile to help Caleb clear his new desk. A long sigh of relief escaped my lips. I couldn't stop Caleb from transferring into our class. But I could absolutely prevent any interaction with him. I would never let the tragedies of my past life happen again. Except, in this life, Caleb's desk-mate was Harper. The person who stepped up to "save" him was Harper. Does that mean the horrors I endured in my past life would now fall onto her? 2 The morning classes flew by amidst a blur of gossip and whispers about the new kid. As soon as the bell rang, my best friend leaned over, unable to hold back: "That was so unlike you today! Why do I feel like you're super hostile toward the new guy with the burned face? You're usually the first one to stand up against bullies. I totally thought you were going to help him out." My hand, which was zipping up my backpack, twitched. So that was the impression I gave everyone? A naive, sweet girl who loved playing the hero? Is that why Caleb targeted me when his confession was rejected in my past life? Did he think that in his twisted mind, I had no right to ever say no to him? "I read a quote online once. It said you should try to stay away from people with extreme physical defects, because more often than not, their minds are just as defective." My friend looked at me, visibly shocked by how harsh that sounded. But I didn't want to continue the conversation. Right now, all I wanted to do was find an excuse to go home and see my parents. In my past life, when Caleb spread those rumors, it became the biggest scandal in the entire school district. Because Caleb was classified as a disabled student, the administration, desperate to show how "inclusive" and "protective" they were, merely gave him a slap on the wrist. But they turned right around and accused me of promiscuous behavior. Without even launching a proper investigation, they expelled me. My dad was so furious he stormed over to Caleb's house to demand justice, only to be hacked to death by Caleb's violently schizophrenic father. My mom refused to accept the verdict and filed appeal after appeal in court, only to lose every single time. I still remember the night I slapped my own face repeatedly, sobbing and begging my mom for forgiveness: "Was it wrong to help someone? Why doesn't being good get rewarded?" My mom had said: "Helping people isn't inherently wrong, but the prerequisite is that you must ensure you are in an absolutely safe position first. While I hope you grow up to be a kind person, I selfishly wish you had never helped him at all. Then, your father would still be coming home to us." After saying that, she resolutely jumped off the roof of our apartment building. Even now, I can perfectly recall the arrogant, sadistic smile on Caleb's face. He told me that mentally ill people don't go to prison for murder. His useless trash of a father was locked away in a psych ward, which meant my dad had actually done him a huge favor by getting rid of his biggest burden. He also told me that since my parents were dead, I was finally just like him. We had both fallen into the mud, and now we could be together forever. The story of the farmer and the viper had played out right in front of me. Because of my misplaced pity, my parents met horrific ends. Right now, all I wanted was to verify they were safe. That they were still alive and breathing in this world. I hadn't even made it to the administration office to ask for a hall pass. As soon as I stepped into the corridor, I saw Caleb being shoved into the boys' bathroom by a few of the class delinquents. I remembered this. In my past life, Caleb was targeted by these exact guys the second he arrived. Instead of pitying his appearance, they treated him like a freak of nature. They forced him to drink toilet water, humiliated him with slurs, and even took turns urinating on him. And I, overflowing with naive righteousness, had thrown myself in front of Caleb and reported those guys to the principal. From that moment on, he decided I was his "savior." The only person who could pull him out of the abyss. Watching the exact same scenario unfold in this life, I stepped back, completely avoiding Caleb's desperate, pleading eyes. I watched as his head was pinned to the bathroom tiles beneath a dirty sneaker. His face was smeared with grime and filthy water. Yet, he still stubbornly reached a hand out, trying to grab the hem of my jeans: "Help me..." I smoothly dodged his touch. Only one phrase echoed in my mind: Abandon the savior complex. Respect their fate. At that exact moment, Harper walked out of the classroom. I expected her to act like a saint and rush in to help. Instead, she pretended she didn't see a single thing and scurried right back inside. I found that quite amusing. Caleb was currently being brutalized. His cheap clothes reeked of something foul, and his hair was plastered to his wet cheeks in greasy strips. I watched as Harper peeked her head back out, putting her hands over her mouth in an exaggerated display of shock. "Caleb, what happened to you? Are you okay? Did someone bully you? Tell me, I'll go tell the teacher for you!" She put on a masterful show of sympathy. But Caleb kept his head down, saying absolutely nothing. He only occasionally glanced up, staring at me with a deeply calculating, brooding look. Alarm bells rang in my head. I hadn't offered him a single shred of help in this life. Why the hell was he staring at me? Was he going to hold a grudge against me just for being a bystander? 3 Honestly, I wasn't afraid of Caleb holding a grudge. Because deep in his bones, he was a coward who only preyed on the weak. He didn't dare retaliate against the people who actually bullied and beat him; instead, he aligned himself with them. But the people who helped him, who cared for him? Those were the ones he relentlessly exploited, genuinely believing he was entitled to their sacrifices. In this life, I didn't help him. I didn't volunteer to be his desk-mate, and I didn't intervene when he was assaulted. There were countless nights in my past life where I hated myself for my misplaced kindness, for my overflowing empathy that tore my family apart. I glared at him coldly: "What the hell are you looking at? Do I have a flower on my face? I wasn't the one who beat you up." Caleb resentfully withdrew his gaze, keeping his head down, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He pressed his lips together stubbornly, not saying a word. Right. This was exactly how he acted in my past life. Whenever something happened, he would just lower his head and stay silent, letting tears well up in his eyes. It was precisely this pathetic, kicked-puppy routine that made me step in to help him over and over again. Caleb's behavior naturally drew roaring laughter from the guys surrounding him. They mocked him mercilessly: "A grown-ass guy crying like a bitch. Why don't you just wear a skirt tomorrow? Oh wait, you're so ugly, putting you in a skirt would probably make us puke up our lunch." "Seriously, having this freak in our class literally brings down the average GPA of our entire grade just by existing." One of the instigators leaned against my desk. It was Mason, the ringleader who had just bullied Caleb. In my past life, Mason had a crush on me, but I rejected him multiple times. Later, when he saw me getting close to Caleb, his jealousy morphed into disgust. He was the one who orchestrated the public event where the crowd pressured Caleb to confess to me, purely to humiliate me. This guy was absolute trash too. He saw me not answering and assumed I silently agreed. He leaned in close to my ear and whispered: "I heard his dad is practically brain-dead. They live on food stamps and government checks. If I force him to pay me protection money, do you think he and his crazy dad will just have to eat air? Hahaha." I forcefully slammed a heavy textbook down right onto the fingers he had resting on my desk. He yanked his hand back in pain, glaring at me: "Are you psychotic? Trying to play the hero now?" Hearing this, Caleb, who had been staring at the floor, suddenly jerked his head up. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I sneered: "Extortion and blackmail. I suggest you look up the state penal code for how many years that carries. Oh wait, you're a minor, so they won't give you hard time. A few years in juvenile detention should do it." Mason glared at me, furious. "So you are trying to stick your neck out for him?" "No," I replied flatly. "I just wanted to tell you to stay the hell away from him. That guy is bad luck. He'll drag you down." As I walked out of the classroom, Caleb looked at me with an increasingly bizarre expression. 4 It wasn't until after the final bell rang and I had walked out of the school gates. I heard a timid, cautious voice behind me. "Thanks for... standing up for me this afternoon." I turned around and realized Caleb had been following me. I had no idea when he started trailing me, but I hadn't noticed him at all. I immediately went on high alert, taking two large steps back. My eyes were filled with undisguised revulsion. I snapped viciously: "What do you want? Why are you following me?" He quickly waved his hands defensively. The burned half of his face twisted into an attempt at a reassuring smile, likely out of panic. But the smile only made him look absolutely terrifying: "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I don't mean any harm. I walk home too. I just... wanted to say thank you. I know you're not like the other kids who laugh at me. You're a good person. You always have been." He stammered through the sentence, looking at me with desperate expectation. It finally clicked in my head. Because Caleb's family was destitute, he commuted to school every day. The school had approved him for a free meal program, so he only ate lunch on campus. He always walked home for dinner. But right now, looking at him only made me want to vomit: "Say thank you? You're delusional. I never had any intention of helping you. To be brutally honest, you make me sick. It's not your appearance, it's your core. You radiate a foul, rotting stench. Caleb, you better stay far away from me, or I won't mind joining them in treating you like garbage." I didn't actually want to cross the line from victim to abuser. But if becoming the abuser was the only way to make Caleb stay away from me and keep my family safe from his disaster... Then I was more than willing to do it. My morals and my sense of justice were built strictly on the foundation that my family and I were safe. Caleb stood frozen in place, his brows furrowed deeply. He seemed entirely incapable of understanding why I would say such vicious things to him. As I walked away, I heard him muttering to himself. "That's not right... that's not how she's supposed to treat me... I'm so pitiful, she should be even more sympathetic..." Hearing those words... It felt like a venomous snake was slowly slithering up the back of my calf. A freezing chill swept through my entire body. 5 When I got home, I saw my parents, healthy and alive. I couldn't stop the tears of pure relief from falling. Thank God. It wasn't too late. In this life, I still had time to protect my family. Because of what Caleb muttered, I couldn't help but be hyper-vigilant. I wasn't afraid of much, but I was terrified of one possibility: what if Caleb was also reborn? If he was, then everything I was doing to avoid him might be useless. So, I decided to inoculate my parents early. I told them that I was dealing with some very bad elements at school. People who were actively trying to ruin my reputation. I told them about the things that hadn't happened yet, but framed them as current threats. I heavily emphasized that going to this boy's parents would be utterly useless. Because his father was severely schizophrenic. Against a family like that, we were completely powerless. And I didn't want this drama ruining my SAT prep or my college applications. Finally, I tentatively suggested transferring schools. Initially, my parents were totally against it. But after hearing me lay out the stakes and the potential threat to my future, my dad just let out a heavy sigh. "We really can't afford to get tangled up with people like that. Sometimes, the most pitiful people are also the most detestable. You're right, Chloe. Our only option is to avoid them. We'll transfer. I won't let this ruin your chances at college." 6 Transferring high schools took time. My dad had to pull strings and call in favors to get me a spot at a top-tier magnet school across town. When I went back to school in the meantime, I completely cut off any and all interaction with Caleb. Anywhere he walked, I automatically steered clear. I didn't exchange a single syllable with him. Very quickly, the entire junior class knew that I despised Caleb. That just breathing the same air as him made me physically uncomfortable. At first, Caleb's life was miserable. His appearance, his terrible grades—he was at the absolute bottom of the social hierarchy. But once Harper—my eternal rival—realized how much I openly targeted him, she went into overdrive showing him aggressive kindness. She bought him lunch. She tutored him. Everything I had done for Caleb in my past life, Harper was doing now. Except, her kindness was completely fake. She just wanted to prove that she was a better, kinder, more compassionate person than me. She used him to highlight my "cruelty." Gradually, I noticed Caleb's gaze shifting. He stopped staring at me, and his eyes started lingering on Harper. I don't know exactly when it started. But suddenly, Caleb became tight-knit with Mason, his former bully. The two of them were always seen throwing their arms around each other's shoulders in the hallways. Someone told me the secret. Caleb had apparently offered Mason a hefty chunk of change as "tribute." He bought Mason's lunches, bought his cigarettes, and officially became his lackey. Caleb grew his hair out long, long enough to completely cover the burned half of his face, making him look like some edgy, delinquent outcast. They spent their time loitering in the corridors, using predatory glares to look up girls' skirts. They bullied the smaller, weaker boys. They ruthlessly mocked girls who weren't conventionally attractive. If Caleb was the victim before, he had now successfully evolved into the abuser. And because of his severe facial disfigurement, the principal just turned a blind eye to it all. I had a bad feeling about how this was escalating. But my dad gave me the best news possible. My transfer was approved. Through his connections, I got a spot at the city's premier magnet school. I would be officially unenrolled here by the end of next week. I let out a massive sigh of relief. The heavy stone that had been crushing my chest finally dropped. At the same time, I decided to set my plan into motion. Running away was a passive defense. Before I left, I needed to teach Caleb a lesson. I planned to leave him a grand parting gift. If he behaved himself in this life, the gift would be a harmless prank. But if he acted exactly like he did in my past life... Then this time, I would ensure he was the one permanently expelled. And the perfect opportunity to execute this plan arrived very quickly. On Friday, the school was hosting its annual Spring Track and Field meet. To celebrate, the administration was letting us out early for a long weekend. And in my past life, the afternoon of this exact Track Meet was when Caleb publicly confessed to me. 7 Based on my observations over the last few weeks, Caleb didn't seem to harbor any feelings for me anymore. After all, the person pulling him out of the mud now was Harper. Even though I despised Harper... I knew what it was like to be caught in the rain. I wasn't going to tear up someone else's umbrella just because I was bitter. During the free activity period on the afternoon of the Track Meet. A guy ran up to Harper: "Harper, someone wants to meet you in the woods behind the bleachers. It's a really hot guy." The guy's smile was sleazy and suggestive. Every high school has that spot in the woods. Everyone knows it's where couples go to hook up. In my past life, this guy had delivered that exact message to me. In this life, the target had predictably shifted to Harper. Harper tilted her chin up, looking haughty: "Who wants to meet me? If you don't give me a name, I'm not going." Even though she said that, she was already smoothing out her clothes, clearly preparing to go. I subtly stuck my foot out and tripped her. Harper ate dirt. She scrambled up, absolutely furious: "Chloe, are you psychotic?! What did I ever do to you?" I stared at her coldly: "You better not go. Aren't you afraid the principal will catch you in the act out there?" Harper's angry face suddenly smoothed out. She gave me a weird, mocking smile: "You're just jealous because you heard a hot guy wants to confess to me, aren't you? Makes sense. People used to confess to you all the time, but who told you to act like such a stuck-up bitch? Your reputation is garbage now. No guy in his right mind wants anything to do with you." I physically cringed. Was this girl actually incapable of recognizing a warning? "If you try to stop me, I'm going to go even harder. If you have a problem with it, go tell the principal! I have nothing to hide!" With that, Harper ignored the warnings of the girls around her and marched straight toward the woods to meet her "admirer." I shook my head. I didn't want to meddle in her business. But today was the critical nexus point of my past life. If I wanted to trap Caleb, I had to make an appearance. After thinking for a second, I whispered a few instructions to the girls I usually hung out with. I shoved a battery-powered megaphone into my backpack. And I followed Harper.
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