She completely broke down.
Why? Why did this happen?
Only I knew she wasn’t lying.
The illness she had this time truly wasn’t her fault.
Because it was the system that infected her.
This system worked by using shared items as a medium.
In my previous life, she connected to the system through my water cup, transferring all her illnesses and harm to me.
She stole my health to live a glamorous life, while I died in the hospital.
This time, having been given a second chance, I was bound to return the favor.
On the night she first went to meet that investor, I used her water cup for an experiment.
I drank alcohol, took expired medicine, and cut myself.
All the side effects landed precisely on Chloe.
And I, I was perfectly fine.
The system was verified.
However, for me, this system had no practical use.
Because I wasn’t the kind of person who hurt myself to express individuality.
So I shattered the water cup, severing the connection.
But I didn’t stop there.
The moment the cup shards scattered, a lightbulb went off in my head.
I thought of a much more interesting way to play this game.
I re–bound this system to another carrier.
It was an inflatable doll.
For the first time in my life, I walked into an adult store. Then, I carefully inserted the shattered cup pieces, which still carried Chloe’s essence, into the doll’s interior.
The cup, infused with her essence, now had a physical link to her.
I was just running a test, but I never expected the system to actually be fooled.
<
All the harm inflicted on this doll was transferred, in full, to Chloe.
This wasn’t me cursing her.
This was a fire *she* lit herself.
I don’t know where that inflatable doll is now.
Who bought it, who used it, how many times, in what ways–I had no idea.
Anyway, it was clearly being used constantly.
Otherwise, Chloe wouldn’t have gotten progressively worse.
She became sicker and sicker.
みんとあ
んだ!
CMP2
NO
67
CHE
At first, it was just skin ulcers, but then black spots started appearing all over her body, her eyes became red and discharged pus, her gums festered, and her throat rotted, leaving her unable to speak.
She lay in the hospital bed, tubes sticking out of her, her eyes vacant, barely recognizable as human.
The doctors initially thought it was just late–stage immune deficiency, but even they couldn’t stand it anymore.
“It’s like she’s cursed!”
“I’ve seen plenty of AIDS patients, but I’ve never seen anyone’s condition deteriorate this fast.”
The patient room reeked of a mixture of disinfectant, medicine, and the rotting stench from her body. Even the nurses didn’t dare stay long.
Her parents were completely broken.
Her drunk dad bellowed, “I should never have let you go to college! You should’ve just stayed on the farm your whole life! At least then you’d die clean!”
Her mom, eyes swollen from crying, wailed, “What *monster* did we raise? You should just die already and spare us the shame!”
Her mom cried and cried, then suddenly stopped.
She looked at her daughter and murmured, “You’d be more useful dead. Alive, you’re just a burden.”
They started asking around for someone who arranges posthumous marriages.
7
In our remote town, these things happened from time to time.
When a family’s son died young, if they couldn’t bear to let him go, they would always find a new bride‘ to be married to their son in the afterlife. Some would pay money, some would offer a dowry.
But the matchmakers weren’t stupid. They’d video call with the chosen ‘bride. One look at Chloe’s condition, and they immediately hung up.
She lay motionless in bed, her face covered in nuetula-
<
She lay motionless in bed, her face covered in pustules and scabs, tears silently streaming down.
No one approached her anymore; even the doctors started to avoid her.
She was left to die in a corner, like trash.
But she didn’t know why.
Just like I, in my previous life, hadn’t known why.
I remembered the past.
Back then, I was sick in the same way.
It started with a low fever, fatigue, then hair loss, vomiting, rashes all over my body, then festering, and finally, rotting.
Everyone said I was unclean, that I had an STD, that I was dirty, that I brought it upon myself.
I desperately cried out, “I didn’t! I’m not that kind of person!”
No one believed me.
No one asked me why.
They just treated me as a joke and a de
Chloe laughed the loudest.
She scornfully said I deserved it, that I was disgusting, that! disgraced the university, and that I’d only be clean when I died.
Then, she and Leo graduated together, wearing their caps and gowns, looking glorious and respectable.
My parents, however, jumped to their deaths.
This time, it was finally Chloe’s turn.
Another month passed, and her condition deteriorated even further.
She died in the early hours of the morning from liver failure complicated by sepsis. Resuscitation attempts were unsuccessful.
Her parents said nothing, quickly signed the cremation papers. They didn’t even claim her ashes, heading back to their rural hometown that very night.
Leo wasn’t doing much better either.
After he was confirmed infected, his face swelled up, and his hair started falling out in clumps.
He had to get injections once a week and take a huge amount of pills, the side effects leaving him weak all over.
Friends he used to be close with started avoiding him, and his academic advisor suggested he take a leave of absence to recover at home.
He, too, ended up dropping out.
བཔཔ་་་
the spot.
The police quickly arrived and set up a cordon.
Upon examination, they found it wasn’t a body, but a chopped–up inflatable doll.
The police followed the trail and found the purchase records.
It was bought by four guys from Dorm Building 2, Room 314.
They had secretly chipped in to buy the doll and kept it hidden in their room.
When the university suddenly announced dorm inspections, they had nowhere to hide such a large doll. Fearing disciplinary action, they simply chopped it into pieces and dumped it in the woods behind campus.
The campus SnapChat group exploded.
“Room 314 is seriously twisted, who buys a doll with four guys?! I’m disgusted.”
“Can they ban these filthy things from male dorms already?”
“You guys are sick, it’s a total den of perversion!”
What struck me most were the four names on the disciplinary notice.
I remembered those guys very clearly.
In my previous life, they were the ones who used to simp over Chloe’s social media posts, calling her their ‘pure campus angel; their ‘perfect goddess!
They were also the ones who joined in, mocking and slut–shaming me when I was targeted by rumors, calling me disgusting trash and telling me to get out of school.
But in this life, Chloe died at their hands.
That doll was the vessel I used to transfer the system.
While those guys were doing those disgusting things with that object, Chloe’s illness worsened bit by bit, until her entire body rotted away.
The ‘goddess‘ they worshinned was literally abused to death L…
That’s karma.
And I, I could finally breathe freely.
I won competitions and got into a top–tier graduate school.
I want to say, you can’t mistake vulgarity for liberation, or depravity for personality.
A life of unchecked indulgence doesn’t bring freedom; it just destroys you.
Some debts, eventually, have to be paid.
September, a new semester.
I carried my luggage upstairs and pushed open my dorm room door. My roommate was already there, smiling and greeting me.
For a moment, I remembered that day many years ago, the first day of freshman year.
Chloe walked into the dorm, dragging a pink suitcase, smiling innocently.
Back then, she truly was somewhat innocent, at least she seemed to be.
But later, whether because of vanity, greed, or simply pure wickedness, she chose the wrong path.
I was suddenly a little curious: in her last moments, did she remember that sunny, clean morning when we first arrived? Did she remember our first meal in the campus cafeteria?
Perhaps she did.
Perhaps not.
But none of that mattered anymore.
નવસારી વસ્તી સંધ્ય
T
I sat at my desk, looking at the freshman group chat buzzing with excited messages.
A new environment, a new life awaited me.
WI didn’t need to look back anymore.
A
