Cerita Pendek Reborn & Novel Hypocrisy Karma

I was head over heels for Jonas Hayes, the cold and aloof scholarship student who saw me as nothing more than a walking wallet. He took my credit card but refused to let me get close. "Get lost. The sight of you and your filthy money makes me sick." Using my wealth, he showered Clara Dove, the stunning campus bella from a humble background, with luxury gifts and even threw her a lavish birthday party at the city’s most exclusive hotel. Everyone envied him, believing he was a self-made billionaire. But I didn’t care. I stayed hopelessly in love. After graduation, I poured my entire inheritance into building a life with him, convinced I could win his heart. During our honeymoon, he watched as I drowned, his voice ice-cold as he said, "Every time I think of how you used your money to control me, I wish you’d die sooner." When I woke up again, I was back in my college classroom—the day Jonas asked me to top up his card. This time, I wasn’t the desperate fool he remembered. I slapped him across the face with the card and sneered, "Even beggars know how to kneel and ask. What are you, a weed?"

A rich kid offers to pay anyone who'll be his companion to a ball ten thousand dollars. My roommate stops me from responding. "He's just a rich guy fishing for fun—he's using money to play around with women! Are you going to offer yourself to him for money? We can't be gold diggers!" My mother is sick, though. She needs my scholarship money to save her life. To my devastation, my roommate latches onto a school board member and takes away my scholarship. She even mocks me. "With your looks, you could've sold yourself for money. Here's a hundred bucks to compensate you." That's not all—an AI face-swapped picture of me are posted online. Countless people harass me because of them. My mother doesn't want to drag me down, so she takes her life. I break down and choose to jump off a building. When I open my eyes again, I'm taken back to the first day of the semester. The rich kid is looking for a female companion. I immediately say, "I'm the companion you've been looking for, sir!"

My husband only married me for a family alliance, but his heart was always with his first love. To please her, he even threw her a grand wedding. He forced me to play the wedding march at their ceremony. When I hit a single wrong note, he stood by as she drove steel needles through my fingers. “Weren’t you so proud of being a pianist? Then I’ll take that away from you.” “This is my revenge for forcing me into this marriage!” Later, I got pregnant. However, Yaron Hayes, my husband, left for an extravagant trip abroad with Ellie Jensen. When he finally returned and saw my swollen belly, he immediately assumed I had cheated. He locked me in a closet, forcing me to endure a brutal childbirth alone—one that cost me my life. Yet when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the Hayes family arranged our marriage. This time, I let go of my foolish devotion. I booked a flight to study abroad in half a month. “The sky is vast, and birds are meant to be free. It's time for me to follow my own path.”

My roommate bought an antique bronze censer online. She burned incense day and night, praying to be with a wealthy boyfriend. I thought it was silly, until her face began to look like mine. Soon, she became the admired heiress, while I was left drowning in debts she had deliberately racked up. I begged her for my identity back, and she pretended to agree. However, she tricked me into giving her my bank account password and pushed me off a rooftop. I learned at that moment that the censer was a cursed relic that grants wishes by draining the life and luck of another. She could take everything from me once my life was ruined, but death was not the end for me. I woke up on the day she first got the cursed censer. The truth was every wish comes with a price, and I was going to make sure she pays.

My cousin, Monica Newman, turned down a blind date with a rich guy and insisted on marrying a broke kid instead. She begged me to steal her papers from my aunt so that she could get her way, yet two years after the wedding, she ended up killing me. She said it was all my fault that she had married an average guy and spent every day stressing about money. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the same day Monica was to meet that rich guy for the blind date. This time, I told her, "How do you know he's wrong for you if you won't even give him a try?" Since she blamed me for ruining her dream of marrying into money in my last life, this time, I would give her exactly what she wanted.

I went into labor at the same time as the woman next door. My husband took me to the hospital, but I delivered a stillborn child. Instead of comforting me, he lashed out, "Did you mess around while you were pregnant? Is that why you gave birth to such a monster?" I lost my baby, my name was dragged through the mud, and I was forced to divorce him and leave with nothing. One day, I happened to overhear my husband speaking to the neighbor: "Good thing we swapped your stillborn baby with May's healthy one. If your in‑laws had looked closely, they would have realized the dead baby was actually ours." That was when I finally understood the truth. They had been involved long before. He pushed me on purpose, causing premature labor, just so they could take my healthy baby and give me her dead one. When I confronted them, they held me down in the bathtub and drowned me. Yet when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day I went into early labor. This time, I'll make sure she gives birth to that stillborn child. This time, I will expose them both for their affair and for what they did to me.

Everyone thinks Jimmy Hudson, my college roommate, is the typical brutally honest and socially clueless guy who just has zero filter sometimes. A friend and I meet up to go boxing and practice our hooks, but he calls it a hookup when texting the group chat about it. He even nonchalantly says he won't be deleting his message. When I meet my boxing buddy, he says I'm meeting my hookup buddy. He even has the nerve to say, "It's just a joke. Don't be overly sensitive and read so much into it." Thanks to a few more of his dirty tricks, my reputation is ruined, and the entire class ostracizes me. But Jimmy doesn't stop there. He slips sleeping pills into my drink, which leads me to miss an exam. Later, he claims it was just a careless mistake and blames it on his scatterbrained tendencies. Eventually, he dumps crushed cherry pits into my water bottle, which ends up poisoning me to death. This all happened because our campus belle, whom he has a crush on, helped me with my luggage on our first day on campus. All of a sudden, my eyes open again. I've returned to the first day of my freshman year at college. This time, I'm going to let Jimmy get a taste of what it's like to have his life ruined with a helping of some social cluelessness of my own.

After giving birth early, memories from a different life flooded into my mind. In these memories, the daughter I had worked so hard to bring into the world was switched with hers. After that, I was told that my daughter had a congenital heart condition. I worked hard to raise her for eighteen years. In the end, I sold off all my assets so that she could have a heart transplant. Meanwhile, I had collapsed from all my efforts to care for her. Left with no choice, I wanted to tell my “daughter” that I was leaving this world, but I overheard her talking with my best friend. “That fool still thinks I’m her daughter. I was the one who poisoned her! Mom, once she dies and you get rid of that pretender, we can finally be together again!” That was when I found out my daughter had been swapped out, and that I had been giving my all to the perpetrator. When I next opened my eyes, pain radiated from my belly, and a nurse said, “Miss Scott, we’ve just learned that your daughter has a congenital heart condition.”

The class heartthrob, Kevin Mosley, who scores only 1000 in the SATs, claims that he has successfully enrolled at Starvard University and is just waiting for the semester to begin. He even guarantees that he can get the entire class admitted as well. The whole class starts cheering and praising him for being their hero. All of them intend to let him submit their college applications for them. But something about his story doesn't sound right to me, so I ask a few more questions. That's when I discover that his so-called exclusive admission internal channel is CloudAI, which is just an AI chatbot! It confidently tells him that it has already reserved a special admission slot for him and guarantees that he can report to Starvard University when the semester starts. Trying to help, I point out that the AI is just generating conversational responses and telling him what he wants to hear. My childhood friend, Janice Hudson, is the first to jump to his defense. "Daryl Greer, how can you doubt Kevin? He's trying to help the whole class. What's it to you?" My friend, Aaron Yates, chimes in as well. "Daryl, AI is cutting-edge technology. It's the future. You can't dismiss it just because you don't understand it." Their words rile everyone up. As the argument escalates, I am shoved down a flight of stairs. I hit my head and die on the spot. When I open my eyes again, I find myself back at the moment when Kevin proudly announces that he's been admitted to Starvard. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink. This time, I'll simply respect their choices and wish them the best.

A week before my parents' sixteenth wedding anniversary, my dad gave my mom a diamond necklace worth over two hundred thousand dollars. Instead, I immediately fastened it around the neck of my flamboyant classmate. Because in my previous life, three days after my mom put on that necklace, she became a completely different person. The way she looked at me turned cold and distant. She flew into rages over the smallest things, throwing objects and calling me a worthless burden. One day, I casually complained about her best friend, Vanessa Moore, and she slapped me hard across the face. Then, late one night, I passed my parents' bedroom on my way to the bathroom and overheard a conversation inside. That was when I learned the diamond necklace was cursed. It could swap my mother's soul with Vanessa's. I called the police immediately. Instead, they insisted I was mentally ill and forced me into a psychiatric hospital. I endured endless abuse and humiliation there before dying a miserable death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my dad gave my mom the necklace.

I come from an old-money family. My grandfather's will was ironclad: whoever gets an Ivy League acceptance letter unlocks 25% of a massive trust fund and a seat on the family board. Out of four siblings, I was the only one who stood a chance. Every night, my mother Victoria carefully made me a cup of "organic brain-boosting matcha." My twin sister Chloe and younger brother Mason never got that privilege. The night before the December SAT—the last chance for Regular Decision Ivy scores—Victoria handed me my green matcha as usual. The next day, my mind went completely blank during the test. I blacked out. I missed that application season. Meanwhile, Chloe—who spent her time at yacht parties and couldn't read an equation—miraculously got an offer from UPenn and sailed right onto the board. The second year, right before the test, my snobby cousin Brianna reached for my matcha. Victoria slapped her hand away and screamed: "Don't touch Ava's things!" That exam, I got severe stomach cramps and was rushed to the ER by ambulance. I had to drop out again. And Brianna—who only cared about designer bags—somehow got into Cornell and took her board seat. The whole family popped champagne in our Upper East Side penthouse. I became the laughingstock of Manhattan's elite, having missed two application seasons in a row. Why did my body crash like clockwork, right at the final, life-changing SAT? Prepping for the third time, I took no chances. For three days before the test, I ate only gluten-free detox meals controlled by a private nutritionist. But the night before the big test, Victoria smiled and brought me that familiar cup of green matcha.

I sold my brand-new 300,000-dollar Bentley for cheap at a price of 30,000. Everyone thought I had gone crazy, but no one knew I had been reborn. In my last life, my mafia boyfriend, Clay Colton's childhood friend, Wendy Jeffords, was heavily pregnant when she experienced pain during the family's gathering. She grabbed my hand as tears streamed down her face. "Ciara, I'm begging you. I'm going into labor. Please take me to the hospital." I was in a panic, and I quickly drove her to the hospital in my new car. However, the baby suffocated from its umbilical cord wrapped around its neck, and the doctor was unable to save it despite doing his best. After Wendy was discharged, she came crying at my company's door while holding up a sign that read, 'Ciara Snow is a murderer! She killed my baby when she drove dangerously!' She told everyone she met that the ride in my car had been too bumpy, and it caused the umbilical cord to strangle her baby. Someone posted a clip of her online, and it trended right away. My pictures, house address, and phone number were revealed on the internet, and many strangers started cursing at me on my social media. I was fired by my company, and people started throwing rubbish at my door. My parents were too afraid of leaving the house due to harassment. My boyfriend, Clay, did not speak up for me when he was interviewed by the media and instead said, "Ciara loved showing off her new luxury car, and she only has herself to blame for everything that has happened." In the end, I jumped off a building. However, when I opened my eyes, I had returned to the day of the family gathering. Wendy was hugging her belly and looking pale as she approached me. "Ciara, I think I'm in labor. Please drive me to the hospital!"

On the day of the Hunt Festival, I have the healer remove my corneas. In my past life, my fiance's adopted sister, Mandy Wells, steals my Crescent Moon Bow and sneaks three Omega wolves into the royal hunting grounds. Mandy spends the day showing off, right up until one of her arrows pierces the chest of the pregnant Luna. The Luna dies on the spot, along with the heir in her womb. Afterward, the three Omegas claim in unison that I was the one holding the bow. When the enforcers show up at my door with the Crescent Arrow, I desperately try to explain that Mandy fired the shot. Mandy cowers in Connor Parker's arms while weeping like a victim. "Aliya, it's fine if you hate me, but you can't frame me for murder." Connor pulls out a memory crystal right then and there. The person drawing the Crescent Bow in the image has my face. "The evidence is right here! How dare you try to frame someone else?" The enraged pack drags me onto the execution stand. They gouge out my eyes, snap my legs, and burn me alive in the sacred fire. When I open my eyes again, I've returned to the day before the Hunt Festival.

The day a rat sold out our East Coast safe houses, the FBI got its hands on the addresses of every old base belonging to the Five Families. The Commission gave the order: every associate had to report to the neutral church and register within seventy-two hours. Only those who completed registration would make the evacuation list and be picked up by the convoys. Once the list was sealed, no one could be added. But Viola Romano claimed she was the daughter of the Commission's Chairman. She said her father had already saved a spot for everyone. They didn't need to register, and they could still leave on the priority convoy. My friends believed her and canceled their registrations, one after another. I begged them not to gamble with their lives and told them to register just in case. Viola immediately accused me of being jealous and trying to ruin things for everyone. My boyfriend, Matteo Russo, said I didn't understand power and that I belonged in line with the ordinary members. In my last life, I reported the whole thing to the Commission. Viola was exposed. Everyone managed to register before the deadline and secure a spot on the evacuation list. She was cast out of the Family for impersonating the Chairman's daughter and obstructing an emergency evacuation. In the end, she died in an FBI raid. Everyone said she got what she deserved. They thanked me for saving them. But after we moved into the new safe house, Matteo shot me from behind. The bullet went straight through my heart. The people I'd saved just stood there, watching coldly. "The worst that could've happened to us was getting arrested by the FBI. Viola lost her life!" When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day Viola promised to get everyone onto the evacuation list.

I was in the parking garage of my Beverly Hills high-rise. And I backed my car into my neighbor's Ferrari. On purpose. I got out, a half-empty bottle of tequila in my hand, right in front of her. "Are you blind? Do you know how much this car costs? Can you even afford to fix it?" She was furious, her face turning red as she whipped out her phone to call 911. I just smirked. "You should probably call them. Get the LAPD down here to arrest me. I'll wait." The first time around, I was the fall guy for my fiancé, Grant, and his sister, Blair. They got high at some Hollywood party, went joyriding, and killed an innocent valet. But the car was my Porsche. And they swore I was the one driving. I rotted in a California state prison for ten years. The shock killed my mom. A heart attack. When I got out, they weren't done. They forged offshore debts to drain my trust fund and drove me to suicide. I woke up 24 hours before it all happened again.

When the company began choosing a vendor for staff lunches, I immediately ruled out my family's restaurant. A coworker stared at me. "Nora, that is a $150,000 contract. Your family runs a restaurant, and you're turning down money being handed to you? Are you out of your mind?" I smiled and didn't answer. In my last life, I took that contract. Then the new intern, Fiona Bell, accused me of secretly pocketing a commission. She even produced a quote from a three-star hotel for comparison. "Look, theirs is three dollars a portion. How do you justify charging eight?" Even my boyfriend of six years, Gavin Shaw, whom I had been seeing in secret, joined her in confronting me with the invoices. In the end the whole company froze me out. After I was diagnosed with severe depression, I died in a car accident one groggy-eyed morning. Three months after my death, several people were poisoned or killed after that hotel cleaned its dishes with pesticide. This time, I slid the order back to Fiona. My voice was calm. "You're the intern in facilities. You know the approval process better than I do. I'll stay out of it."