Chapter 1
The first thing I did after waking up, after being reborn, was to storm to the front of the lecture hall and brutally attack my homero- om teacher who was also my own mother.
Before the whole class could even react, I then charged at my childhood best friend and closest confidante, kicking and punching her mercilessly.
Everyone thought the immense pressure of my final year of high school had finally driven me to a breakdown.
The school wanted to send me, a dangerous individual, to a psychiatric institution.
I sang and danced with glee.
In my past life, on the eve of the university entrance exams, my best friend had blown up the school’s chemistry lab, killing many students on the spot.
was surrounded by police at my front door. They produced surveillance footage, declaring me the murderer.
I was stunned, utterly bewildered, and could only beg my mother to confirm my alibi.
But my mother said I was a born delinquent, who had dreamed of blowing up the school since childhood.
Several infuriated parents, their eyes bloodshot with rage, brutally attacked me, leaving me for dead.
1
“Oh no, Claire Reynolds, the star student, has completely lost it!”
“Mom! Please come pick me up from school! I’m scared!”
“I told you, studying all the time can make you crazy. Even the top student in our class has snapped!”
The classroom buzzed with nervous chatter. Some students huddled under their desks in fear, while others pounded on tables, cheering me on. The reason was simple: I had just stormed the front of the lecture hall and savagely beaten my own mother, who also happened to be my homeroom teacher, until she couldn’t even stand.
Then I turned to face the students, locating my target: my past life’s best friend and childhood confidante, Bethany Miller. I grabbed her by the collar. She struggled desperately, and the more she fought, the more exhilarated I became. I dragged her out of the clas- sroom and continued to beat her. The entire hallway echoed with Bethany’s agonized screams. My mother, scrambling on her han- ds and knees, begged me to stop. Other teachers, discovering the scene, immediately called the police and emergency services.
At the psychiatric institution, a doctor wanted to examine me, to see if I was truly insane or just feigning it. My mother, still in a hospital gown from the beating, had them wheel her over. She screamed hysterically at me, “What are you feigning madness for when you’re clearly not il!!”
The doctor shook his head, already writing down his diagnosis. “I’ve seen many parents like you. It’s a miracle your child isn’t comp- letely mad! Not only does your daughter need to be admitted, but you, too, should be admitted for proper treatment!”
My mother lunged forward, tearing the doctor’s diagnostic report to shreds. “She’s about to take her university entrance exams! Do you have any idea?! Rewrite that diagnosis for me! And don’t you dare slander me, or I’ll sue you!”
The doctor shot to his feet. “Madam! Your daughter is ill, do you understand that?! Is her health more important, or the university entrance exams? The exams aren’t the only thing in life!”
The school administrator, who had accompanied us to the hospital, initially spoke on my mother’s behalf. “Ms. Vance has always been very good to her students and her daughter. While her methods might be a bit… unconventional, Claire has consistently been at the top of her class, and that’s thanks to her wonderful mother!” Then, he turned to my mother. “Ms. Vance, you need to calm down! Let your daughter receive treatment here for a while. She has terrified the other students in the class, the school cannot
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Chapter 1
at the top of her class, and that’s thanks to her wonderful mother!” Then, he turned to my mother. “Ms. Vance, you need to calm
down! Let your daughter receive treatment here for a while. She has terrified the other students in the class; the school cannot
allow her to return for now!”
My mother trembled with rage. She tried to intimidate me. “Claire Reynolds! I’m telling you, if you don’t come home with me today will disown you!”
Hearing there was such a good thing on offer, I immediately started singing and dancing. “Today is a good day…” My mother fainted from sheer fury, and I finally entered the psychiatric institution as I had wished.
In my past life, close to the university entrance exams, my best friend Bethany Miller blew up the school’s chemistry lab. Classes had just ended, and many students were still inside; they were killed on the spot. I was eating dinner at home when the school ad- ministration, along with police officers and a group of parents, descended upon my house and apprehended me. The school princi- pal showed me surveillance footage; it clearly showed me blowing up the lab. Though I was bewildered, I knew it was absolutely impossible. My family lived in the staff apartments just a five–minute walk from school. The moment classes ended, I always raced home, and today I had even surpassed my usual speed, arriving a minute earlier than normal. How could I have possibly detoured to the lab to blow it up before coming home for dinner?
Yet, my mother looked tense and stammered, “My daughter did come home half an hour later than usual today…” I wondered if my ears were malfunctioning, how could my mother say such a thing? The eyes of several parents present were bloodshot with rage With lightning speed, they pulled out knives, brutally attacking me, leaving me for dead. “My child won’t grow up in peace; why sho- uld scum like you live?”
When I opened my eyes again, I decided the psychiatric institution was rather pleasant.
2
At the psychiatric institution, I ate and slept well. After breakfast, I even joined the other patients in their morning exercisen:
