My entire senior class respawned to the days before the college entrance exam—the SATs. Everyone's eyes lit up. They memorized the answers like zealots and, sure enough, every single one of them scored a near-perfect 1580 or higher. Everyone except me. I stared at the slip of paper in my hand. "650." My throat tightened. Even this score... was still too high. 01 The day the scores were released, the classroom was buzzing like a beehive. Everyone crowded around the bulletin board. "Zara, are you blind? You got a 650!" The class president shouted it from the front row, sparking a wave of laughter. "How can someone actually get dumber over time?" "Seriously, the whole class is improving, and she's dragging the average down to hell!" I kept my head down, feeling the mocking gazes pricking me from all directions. I was used to it. In this trashy high school, my genuine love for learning made me a freak. But this time, it was different. Out of a maximum 1600, nearly half the class scored above 1500. We swept the state rankings, taking the valedictorian spot for the entire city and state. This wasn't a miracle. It was a glitch. The entire class had been sent back in time to before the exam. The moment they respawned, everyone went crazy memorizing the questions and answers. Even Lucas, the class delinquent who usually struggled to spell his own name, scored high enough for the Ivy League. Our class became a city-wide sensation, the poster children for academic excellence. Our homeroom teacher wept openly, thinking his teaching methods had finally paid off. But we all knew the truth—anyone can memorize an answer key. But only me... "Did you get your head caught in a door? You had the answers and couldn't even break 700?" Jessica, the class queen bee, slammed her test paper onto my desk. Usually, I beat her in everything except looks. Finally, she had her moment. Seeing no reaction from me, she leaned in, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you want me to tutor you? Oh wait, you wouldn't understand it anyway." "No thanks," I said, folding my paper and stuffing it into my bag. "I'm actually pretty happy with this score." I calculated this 650 three times to make sure I got it exactly right. They laughed even harder. They didn't know my backpack was already filled with glue. My test paper was now a wrinkled, sticky mess. ... Laugh all you want. Laugh louder. I wonder if you'll still be laughing when you realize those memorized answers are going to cost you your lives. 02 The next afternoon, the graduation ceremony began on schedule. The lights in the auditorium were aggressively bright. The "high achievers" in the front rows were loud and arrogant. "I wrote a ten-page acceptance speech!" "Does my hair look good for the photos later?" "Why haven't Harvard and Yale called me begging yet?" I sat silently in the back corner, the designated "loser zone." It was coming. It was about to start. On stage, the principal was still giving his speech, but the corners of his mouth had split all the way to his ears. With every word he spoke, dark red blood dripped from his chin. No one in the audience noticed. "...Congratulations on successfully completing your exams. Today, we have special rewards for our outstanding students." I looked down at my transcript—650. Third from the last in the class. I had meticulously calculated this score based on last life's results. I deliberately filled in wrong bubbles for every subject and wrote only three lines for the essay. Still, it was higher than I hoped. I glanced at the guy who scored 600, the second to last. Liam. A "simple-minded jock" who was ostracized by the class and missed out on the answer key after respawning. Now that is true score control talent! Suddenly, the principal spoke. "First, will all students who scored above 1550 please come to the stage to receive your awards!" A distorted piano melody began to play over the speakers, sounding like a nursery rhyme being strangled. Jason, the study rep in the first row, stood up. His back was straight, his uniform pressed to perfection. The first state valedictorian in our school's 100-year history. He walked up the stairs, a smug smile plastered on his face, already envisioning his elite university future. And then— Snap. His neck suddenly twisted. Once. Twice. Three times. The sound of bone shattering was crisp, exploding in everyone's ears. His head rotated 720 degrees before settling at a gruesome angle—face backward, body forward. The auditorium erupted in screams. "Is this... part of the show?" "Maybe it's special effects..." Before anyone could process it, the principal spoke again. "Awards distributed," his voice remained gentle. "Next, students with scores above 1500, please come to the stage." Hearing their names, several students walked toward the stage. Under the deathly spotlight, each performed their own self-destruct sequence, twisting like pretzels. When blood splattered onto the faces of the front row, realization finally hit. This graduation ceremony wasn't normal. I sat calmly in the back, watching the familiar scene unfold with a cold sneer. In my past life, the whole class chose to respawn immediately after the exam. Only I stayed behind long enough to witness this graduation ceremony—a massacre ordered by test scores. On the graduation banner, the words "Bright Future" were slowly being dyed dark red. 03 Even the dumbest person could figure it out now. The class ranking was the death order. From high to low, no one escapes. Since most of our class had cheated their way to the top, wailing filled the air. "Why did I have to score so high?!" "Sob... can I still go to Stanford..." "I must be dreaming! I have to be!" But reality was ruthless. Those who went up died. Those who refused were dragged up by the surrounding teachers and died anyway. Someone tried to flee the auditorium, but the moment they touched the sunlight outside, they spontaneously combusted. In an instant, corpses littered the floor. Watching the people who had just mocked me turn into meat sacks, I couldn't help but scoff. They deserved it. Suddenly, a low male voice came from beside me. "You tanked your score on purpose, didn't you?" I was surprised. I turned to meet a pair of calm eyes—Caleb. He scored 680 this time, just on the edge of the "loser zone." But he was planning to study abroad anyway, so he just breezed through the test. "What makes you say that?" I asked. "I'm your deskmate. I know your level better than anyone." True. With my normal ability, scoring 1450+ was no problem. Which is exactly why I was eliminated early in the ceremony in my last life. But my classmates seemed to have forgotten that, only caring about suppressing me. "If they kill based on scores, why didn't you just hand in a blank paper?" Caleb asked. I shook my head. "The bottom ten students in the grade aren't allowed to attend graduation." Like the guy who got last place in our class. He was dead by default. Soon, the awards for the 1500+ scorers were finished. Before the survivors could catch their breath, the principal smiled and announced a choir performance for the graduates. The lights dimmed. The choir, which had appeared on stage unnoticed, slowly turned around. It was the 20-something students who had just died. Jason stood in the front row, his severed neck held together by wire, swaying mechanically to the music as he announced the song title. [Please enjoy a performance by our outstanding graduates: "The White Ship."] 04 The auditorium fell silent. The living had no idea what was coming next. The piano started. The dead opened their mouths in unison, their rotting vocal cords turning the warm melody into something nauseating. [Blue sky, milky way...] [...There sails a little white ship.] My body went rigid. Behind me, Liam, the class idiot, was humming along, oblivious to the danger—until the singing stopped abruptly. Twenty-plus heads snapped toward the audience, their gazes sweeping over faces. "Get down!" I dragged Caleb to the floor. "What are you doing?" Before he could finish his question, a girl in the row ahead of us suddenly stood up. Her mouth curved into an uncontrollable smile, her fingers trembling as they reached for her own neck. "Help..." A tear rolled from her wide, terrified eye, but her fingers snapped with sudden force. Crack! The sound of a cervical fracture exploded over the accompaniment of "The White Ship." The last image in her eyes was her high-scoring boyfriend on stage, staring at her "lovingly." "How..." Caleb gasped. "Whenever the singing stops, the people they stare at... die." No repeats. One-on-one targeting. And they prioritized the high-scorers in the front rows. I watched as over twenty figures stood up one after another. Some laughed and cried as they suffocated themselves with test papers. Some stabbed pens through their temples. The boy in the very front bit through the arteries in his own wrist. The remaining living students were frozen. "Is this... random killing now?" Jessica's shrill voice pierced the auditorium. Crying and cursing filled the air. Chaos. Aside from Caleb and me, no one knew what was happening. The newly dead swayed to their feet, wearing the same stitched smiles as the choir, and marched in unison toward the stage. Jason affectionately put his arm around a boy who had just killed himself, adjusting his crooked tie. Now, the choir had 46 members. That was 46 pairs of venomous eyes.
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