Campus Beauty Plot Twists の短編小説 & 小説

On the day we're supposed to fill in our future universities, my childhood friend, Emma Slater, who's smart enough to attend a first-rate university, doesn't hesitate to fill a community university as the university she wants to attend the most. All of our classmates are stunned, to say the least. They quickly tell me to stop Emma from submitting that form. But I just smile at them faintly. "It's fine. I completely respect Emma's wishes." No one knows that I've been reborn. In my previous life, Ezekiel Smith, the low income student who had transferred into our class, claimed that he was a transmigrator who was here to save Emma. If both of them couldn't get into the same university, he'd get eradicated by the system. Emma kept obeying Ezekiel's every command, as though she was under his spell. I didn't have the heart to see her give up on her future, so I exposed Ezekiel's lies on the spot. At the same time, I managed to switch Emma's future university back to Kingswell University and Bellsgrave University right before the due date was up. While Emma did get to study at a prestigious university with me, Ezekiel ended up jumping off a building at the third-rate university. In his suicide note, he kept pointing fingers at me and claiming that I was the reason he failed his conquest, which led to his eradication. Because of that, Emma hated my guts to the point that she pushed me off the campus' rooftop, resulting in my own death. Now that I've gotten reborn again, I just want to watch Emma fall into the abyss.

I'm the head cheerleader for the Westbrook High football team. I couldn't walk through the front gate without a crowd closing in around me, and one candid photo could set the entire school message board on fire. Then I woke up one morning inside the body of the two-hundred-pound girl in my class, the one everybody called ugly. Our souls had traded places. She sent me a message. [Your good days are over, Corinna Vale.] [And let me be clear, this swap is permanent. From today on, everything people ever envied you for belongs to me!] [As for you, go rot in that body for me!] But I looked at the girl in the mirror and laughed out loud. She had only seen the shine on the outside. She had no idea I'd paid for that beauty with my life. From the age of six, every meal I ate was a diet plan measured out to the gram. To keep my figure, I was put on an operating table and had a rib taken out. I could still picture the ugly looks on my parents' faces. To them I was not a daughter. I was a pretty piece of merchandise to be sold to a rich family. I tightened my grip on the phone. She wanted to use my face to steal my boyfriend, take my place in my family, and turn me into a joke. But I had no intention of letting her have any of it. Getting beautiful and fit again was only a matter of time for me. But that hollowed-out body and that loveless family were hers for life.

Lucius Nightshade, the Original Vampire Progenitor, was ambushed. A rogue hunter on a suicide mission. But my mate, Julian Thorne, and his elite guards weren't there. They were at a midnight masquerade, playing bodyguard for his childhood sweetheart, Lilah. I didn't invoke the mate bond to summon Julian. Instead, heavy with an eight-month pregnancy, I threw myself at Lucius. I traded my life to shield him from the fatal silver shrapnel. Because in my past life, I did invoke the emergency bond. Julian ditched Lilah, teleported to the scene, and saved Lucius. For that, he got a seat on the High Council. He became the Lord of his clan. But Lilah threw a fit because he left her behind. She ran off the territory in a tantrum and got ripped apart by our clan's worst enemies. Julian didn't say a word. But on the day I was due to give birth, he forcibly dragged me into the Sunlight Cell. His fangs grazed my ear, dangerous and cold. His hands shook violently on my shoulders, fueled by pure grief and manic rage. "The Progenitor had so many elite guards! Why did you have to force-summon me? Am I just a stepping stone to you? You don't love me. You just wanted the vanity of being a Lord's wife, didn't you?" "Lilah wouldn't be dead if it wasn't for your damn jealousy! You are going to suffer a thousand times worse than she did!" Then, without a shred of mercy, he shoved me and my newborn into the blazing daylight. I watched in horror as my baby burned to ashes right beside me. When I opened my eyes again, the harsh stench of silver powder filled the air. I was back on the day Progenitor Lucius was ambushed.

The day before the college entrance exam, the class belle everyone adored stepped onto the podium. "I wasn't going to tell anyone, but I couldn't bear to let you all miss this opportunity. There's a hidden rule in this year's college entrance exam system. If you soak your answer sheet, it'll be transferred for a special manual review by top universities." I froze, staring at her for a long while before finally blinking dumbly. In my previous life, those exact words had been enough to make someone as dull as me lose my composure for the first time in my life. I ran to get the teacher and stopped the entire class from soaking their answer sheets. In the end, the class belle failed the exam and broke down in tears in the class group chat. "If Ondine hadn't brought the teacher to keep an eye on us, maybe all of us would've had a chance." Later, one of her admirers cornered me on the school's rooftop and forced me to grovel and apologize to her. Unfortunately, I fell from the building during the struggle to defend myself. When I opened my eyes again, I was transported right back to the moment she was teaching the class how to "activate" their answer sheets. This time, I lowered my head as my lips curled into a slow smile. "Sounds good. Just make sure you soak them thoroughly. We don't want the system to scan them now, do we?"

During orientation training, the class belle, everyone’s favorite, led the entire class to protest against the orientation leader. The orientation leader threatened to make us run as punishment, but she took on everyone’s training load by herself. But in reality, she shifted all the exhaustion onto me. She ran 30 miles while carrying weights without batting an eye. Then, she told the orientation leader that she was willing to take on all the class’s remaining orientation training duties by herself. From that point on, she became the darling of the entire class. Meanwhile, I was exhausted beyond measure, was frequently hospitalized, and was late to training. It affected our class’s honor roll standing. I got yelled at by the whole class. When I explained the situation to everyone, they dismissed me as a nutcase. “You’ve only been in training for a few days! How could you be this exhausted? I think you’re just faking it.” “Are you just jealous that Eira Yard is in better shape than you, looks better than you, and is even more popular than you?” In utter despair, I confronted Eira, but she casually changed into her orientation training uniform. “Please step aside. I’m going to run the final weighted cross-country race on behalf of the entire school. I don’t have time to mess around with you.” Once she was done with the run in the 104-degree heat, her expression remained cool and collected. I, on the other hand, felt as if my limbs had been severed. My organs failed, and I died on the spot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the first day of orientation training. This time, I beat everyone to it and reported to the orientation leader. “I’ll run for the whole class.”

On the third night after Seraphina Vale—the academy's most envied beauty—took her own life, a blood ledger appeared out of nowhere in the abandoned chapel of St. Ophelia's Academy. Rumor had it that if you left a blood print on it, the ledger would grant your deepest wish. At first, nobody bought such a ridiculous story. Until Vivian Cross—all two hundred and twenty pounds of her—shakily made her choice: beauty. She dropped the weight overnight. Her features turned so delicate people couldn't look away. Just like that, she became the academy's new obsession. After that, no one called the blood ledger bad luck anymore. Dorian Blackwood chose his future, and the Black Council's recommendation came through immediately. Someone else chose wealth, and their family's debts were wiped clean overnight. Everyone's dreams came true. My best friend Nora Ellsworth started to waver too. She wanted to sign the blood ledger, to bring her brother back from bloodwither. But I stopped her. I wouldn't let her leave a blood print—not for anything. The people around us closed in right away. "You don't have anyone sick and dying, so of course you can stand there and act like you're above it all!" "If Nora's brother dies, you're the murderer!" Even Nora looked at me with red-rimmed eyes, demanding to know why I was so cruel—why I'd cut off her brother's only chance. But I wasn't being cruel. The blood ledger was Seraphina's. I couldn't believe that Seraphina's grudge, even in death, would turn into free mercy. In her death, no one was innocent.

It was the accolades for the school's top ten students. I had just gone onto the stage when the screen turned black. Soon, dozens of snapshots appeared. Snapshots of chat history that sounded like a seedy deal was going on. The whole campus was in an uproar. I was the one who sent the texts, and the recipient was the valedictorian and the campus' most handsome guy, who was sitting in the first row. He was Blake Landton, a junior in finance. "I'm out of money. Gimme 5,000." "I'm sleeping at your place tonight. Don't lock the door." "If you won't give me money, I'll hound you every day until your reputation is ruined." The faculty belle charged up the stage with a mic in hand. She jabbed a finger at me and announced righteously, "See? Yvonne's not some innocent top student. She's just a gold digger who harasses and extorts Blake for money! Someone this shameless doesn't deserve this prize!" Everyone under the stage shot me disdainful looks, and the school's top brass looked displeased. The She's shared her food with me several times. belle looked at me smugly. "Blake's too kind to call the cops, but you must reflect on your gold-digging in front of us right now!" I stared at the out-of-context texts and held my forehead. Blake was my grandmother's son. She had him at an advanced age, which meant that he was my uncle. So, it also meant that I could stay the night at my uncle's place and shake some money out of him. That right there was a niece's privilege, and it didn't make me a gold digger.

On the night of the Halloween dance, Scarlett Adams, captain of the cheer squad, accused me of harassing Theodore Russo, the hottest guy on campus. She tore into me in front of everyone and called me a shameless tramp. She claimed that I, an Omega of the lowest rank, had thrown myself at Theodore. Theodore was an exceptional young werewolf, and plenty of girls on campus had a crush on him. But the giant screen in front of us displayed our messages, which looked downright filthy. "Babe, if you use my underwear to mop the floor one more time, I'll rip your throat out!" "Sweetie, my credit card's maxed out, so send me some money. If you refuse, I'm telling your dad in ten minutes, and he'll teach you a lesson!" "I'm staying over tonight. Don't forget to give me your key." Scarlett stormed up to me, teeth clenched, and screamed in my face, "Everyone, don't let this woman fool you. She's been harassing Theodore nonstop for money, driving the poor guy crazy! "Luckily, I caught her and exposed her for what she really is. She's not some sweet, helpless Omega. She's a money-crazed gold digger!" The other werewolves turned to stare at me, contempt written all over their faces. Down in the crowd, Gerald Harlow, the dean, looked furious. An Omega preying on classmates for money would be a scandal anywhere, and it would drag the whole school through the mud. I took in the looks on everyone's faces, then laughed and shook my head. Come on! Theodore is my fraternal twin brother. Borrowing a little money from him and mooching free meals at his place are perfectly normal. Since when is that something to get attacked for?

I lucked out, securing a guaranteed admission spot at Westbridge University—the one the real heiress throws away. Nicole Stewart drops out for love and runs off with the school's bully, shattering what should've been her perfect life. Meanwhile, I'm branded a thief, accused of stealing her place. However, I fight my way up to become a powerhouse in business and even marry her childhood sweetheart, Spencer Lowe. Yet, at the peak of it all, I open my eyes to find myself back to graduation day of senior year, right when I'm filling out my choices of colleges. A live barrage of comments flashes before my eyes. "That fake heiress, Gloria Stewart, is nothing but a thief. She stole Nicole's life!" "In her last life, Nicole actually dropped out of school to start a business with some school bully. She even gave her childhood sweetheart, who was her fiance, to someone else! Ugh, she's so stupid and pathetic." "Good thing Nicole gets a second chance. This time, the real heiress has awakened, so let's just see how miserable that fake heiress who stole her life becomes!" I just smile at the scrolling insults. Sorry, but I carve my own path. Nicole can be reborn a hundred times, and she still can't stop me from rising to the top.

During my senior year of college, I started dating Leo Whitman online. He was the hottest guy on campus. All through winter break, he texted me every day. He kept me company while I took my grandmother to her pre-op appointments. One night, at two in the morning, he even promised that when we got back to Boston, he'd make up for all the hugs we'd missed. Then the new semester started, and we finally met at the student center. The moment Leo saw me, his face fell. He pulled out his phone, showed me a photo, and said there had been a mix-up. He'd added the wrong girl on Instagram. The girl he had a crush on was my roommate, Vivian Blake. Back in December, Leo had spotted Vivian at the school's winter charity gala and snapped a photo of her from the side. He posted it in his fraternity group chat and offered $10,000 to whoever could introduce them. Except his roommate had sent him my Instagram handle by mistake. And just like that, I understood how I'd spent two months in a relationship that had never really been mine. Leo sat by the window without saying a word. After a long silence, he slid a signed check across the table. "We're done here. But I need you to help me win Vivian over. Write in whatever amount you want."

I break up with my childhood sweetheart, Daphne Hogan, right outside my dorm. She doesn't even look up from her phone. "Just because I ditched you for him at dinner the other night?" "Yes." Daphne figures I'm just throwing a tantrum. Her fingers fly across her screen as she replies to a freshman's texts. Whatever message he sends makes her rush off. Before leaving, she gives me a fond, exasperated sigh. "Don't be silly. Get some sleep tonight. You have a hiking drill tomorrow. I'll be there." Daphne walks away without looking back, completely missing the finality in my eyes. It's time to put an end to this childhood romance.

During an elective class, the campus belle, Jemima Ford, who is our senior, describes her ideal type with everyone egging her on. She says, "My future husband has to be at least six feet two inches tall. His parents must be college professors, and his grades should be top three in his major…" The room buzzes with teasing chatter and gossip. At the same time, I snap up my head in surprise. Why does Jemima's description of her ideal type sound like my boyfriend, Elijah Sanders? The next second, the professor standing by the podium smiles obsequiously and says, "Very well said. If Eli hears this, he'll definitely be very happy! Later, the two of you can meet. That way, he won't get tricked by some naive girl into going abroad." Amid the burst of laughter from the class, I lower my eyes and look at the message my parents sent me. It reads, "Sweetheart, are you really going abroad with your boyfriend? There'll be no one left to inherit our company with you gone."

When the wedding invitation from my high school classmate Ella Reese arrived, a video of her and her friends shoving the two-hundred-pound girl I used to be into a mud pit was already going viral. Her caption read, "Those were the days. Sophie Aubert, you absolutely have to be my bridesmaid." Our former classmates flooded the comments with jeers. "Ella's so generous. She'd actually invite a plagiarist? Will Sophie even fit into a bridesmaid dress? Making one for her would take enough fabric for three people." "It's been seven years. By now, they'd probably need a crane just to get her into the venue!" "Didn't she write Jack a love letter back then? He'll probably be so scared he'll cry." The groom, Jack Smith, replied in the comments, "If she actually has the nerve to show up, I'll dance with her in front of everyone. Call it an apology for throwing her into the fountain back then." The comment section exploded with people cheering him on. I calmly took a sip of unsweetened black coffee. They thought I was still the fat girl with no choice but to hide in a corner and cry. They had no idea I was now a fitness influencer with millions of followers, much less that the luxury estate they had rented for the wedding belonged to me. I replied in the comments, "No need for a bridesmaid dress. I'll be there on time." This time, I would tear down her perfect facade myself and give Ella a wedding she would never forget.

My best friend is known throughout the school as a woman of integrity. So, when she's offered a coveted spot in Austin University's special admissions list, she rejects it in front of the principal, our homeroom teacher, and the top students in our grade. She explains, "I've worked hard for all these years just to take the college entrance exam fairly. Taking a shortcut like this would just be unfair to me and everyone who has been preparing for the exam." Everyone is moved by her words. However, I know something they don't. Yesterday, she was clutching the admissions brochure in our dorm room. She was so excited that she didn't sleep at all. She refused only because she wanted the school, the teachers, and her classmates to beg her to take it. Unfortunately for her, when the principal asks her about it one more time, I raise my hand and say, "Sir, if she doesn't want to accept the offer, I'll take it instead." The entire room becomes silent. Her self-righteous facade nearly crumbles, but she forces herself to persuade me, "Nina, you can't take something that doesn't belong to you just because you want to avoid taking the college entrance exam." Yet, I laugh at her words. I retort, "It doesn't belong to me? If a certain someone is refusing a huge opportunity out of false modesty, it should go to someone who actually wants it."

The whole school knew I was Derek Hardy's doormat—his loyal little puppy, always trailing behind him no matter what. But no matter how much he looked down on me, brushed me off, or treated me like I didn't matter, I never left his side. Until a basketball game, when Derek took a scratch to the face. I frowned, got to my feet, and muttered under my breath, "Took me forever to find a decent replacement. What a waste."

The day before the semester began, my childhood friend Daniel Carter asked if he could borrow my private jet. Thinking he'd finally changed his ways, I agreed without a second thought. A moment later, he transferred a single dollar, calling it rent because he couldn't stand the thought of freeloading. The quirky amount said more than words ever could. I smiled and accepted it. On the first day of school, I kept things low-key, taking a cab back to campus. But when I arrived, there it was, my private jet parked right in the middle of the quad. The jet had been decked out in bubblegum pink, and students crowded around, their eyes shining with envy. My heart leapt. For once, I thought Daniel had finally figured it out. Beaming, I braced myself for his surprise. But as I drew closer, my smile froze. Sitting barefoot in the pilot's seat, my seat, was Clara West, the campus' queen bee.

Sharon Deleon, the campus belle, has secretly stuffed a folded piece of paper into my pencil case five minutes before the start of the postgraduate admission exam. A series of comments streak across my vision. "The paper is filled with answers to the exam questions! Sharon has already lodged a report to the teachers. The school proctor will be here soon. Once that paper is found in Cassandra's pencil case, her admission recommendation will be terminated immediately!" "Hmph! This is all that nerd's fault for standing in Sharon's way to success! The proctor is Sharon's uncle, after all! Cassandra's doomed today!" The next thing I know, the proctor strides into the classroom angrily. He makes a beeline to my seat right away. "Someone has reported you for cheating. Dump out the contents in your pencil case right now!" I just do what I'm told with a blank look. There are only a few pens in sight. The folded piece of paper, however, isn't there. Sharon widens her eyes in shock. "How could this be? But I'm very sure that I—" Before she can finish speaking, a folded piece of paper containing the answers falls out of her pocket. Everyone doesn't know that I'm capable of reflecting misfortune by nature. Whoever sabotages me will get a dose of their own medicine instead.

My roommate won first prize in the national lottery, a full 100 million dollars. She quit her job on the spot, blocked her boss, and said to me, "Amanda, from now on, we'll live in Luxuria Heights, eating the best food and living it up." We went on shopping sprees at Hermès and treated Michelin restaurants like our daily canteen. On moving day, she told me to go ahead to the top-floor luxury apartment and wait for her. She said she needed to pick up a package. Excited, I entered the password she had given me. "Beep. Incorrect password." I was just about to try again. Then, the door opened. The person who came out was not my roommate but a stranger in a suit. He looked at me and frowned. "Who are you? Why do you have the password to my home?" I was stunned. "This is Lydia Zaydn's apartment. Who are you?" The man's expression turned strange. "Lydia Zaydn? I've lived here for five years. I've never heard of that name."

At the National High School Football All-Star Game, my boyfriend Evan had just been named MVP. Sophia, the cheer captain, immediately posted on Instagram. Caption: "Guess who got a little something from the champion himself~" The photo turned out to be a pair of Evan's worn underwear! Scrawled across them in lipstick were the words: "For my dearest Sophia." She held them up with her long acrylic nails, pouting for the selfie. The internet exploded. "Why does she have his underwear?" "Isn't it obvious? They're totally together." "Sitting here waiting for the official couple photo." Within seconds, a close-up of the two of them cheek-to-cheek surfaced in the comments. Congratulations and teasing flooded the feed. I gripped my phone, a chill spreading through my entire body. Evan had promised to go public about us ages ago but kept putting it off, saying he needed to prove himself first. He'd been stalling ever since. Now here I was, his actual girlfriend, and I didn't even get an invite to his victory party. I took a deep breath and called him. "Explain." On the other end, Evan's voice was lazy, almost amused. "The fans grabbed everything off me. Jersey, pads, all of it. Sophia insisted on keeping something as a souvenir, so I gave her the underwear. No big deal." "The Instagram post is just riding the hype. Don't be so uptight about it." Then Sophia's voice chimed in. "Yeah, honey, Evan and I are like brothers! I've seen everything on him already. It's just a pair of boxers, so don't be so petty." I listened to their increasingly flirtatious banter through the speaker, then slowly pulled off my engagement ring and tossed it aside. "Fine," I said to Evan. "I'll be the bigger person. Why don't you skip the 'girl bro' thing and just make her your girlfriend? I'm tired of watching this act."

We were on a field trip to the Holy State of Aram, when the prom queen, Susie Lambert, complained about the hot weather and called for a bikini party. My boyfriend Ken insisted on bringing the whole class along just to satisfy her whim, even though I warned him, "That's against the law, and visitors who are found guilty will be remanded, if not killed…" He slapped me across the face and snapped, "Don't try to scare us! You're just jealous that Susie's got a nice bod, and you don't want to see us being happy together!" Everyone else in the class roared in approval too. "Exactly! You already took Ken away from Susie, and you'd now come up with such bullshit!" I was furious and frustrated, but for their sake, I spoke to Mrs. Dent, the class teacher. She scolded everyone when she realized what they were doing and called off the bikini party. However, Susie got so upset that she ran off alone and flaunted her bikini at the beach anyway, and she was caught before being executed as a spy by zealots. Ken blamed it all on me. In the middle of the night, he sneaked into my home and set fire to it with gasoline, killing my entire family. Afterward, the entire class testified on his behalf to create an alibi. But I opened my eyes again and found myself returning to that day when Susie goaded everyone to join her bikini party. This time, I simply smiled. "Go ahead, enjoy yourselves all you want!"