A Pov Story

I've chosen to participate in a death game. As long as I can escape from the murderer's killing spree in ten time loops, I'll be able to win at least 100 billion dollars. In the first loop, I have my apartment refurbished into a bank vault. Still, the killer is able to bust down my front door. In the second loop, I hide in the ceiling crawlspace. Yet, the killer is quick to locate me immediately, as though he knew where I was, to begin with. In the third loop, I finally realize that something's definitely fishy…

The new intern in the unit had to be chronically incompetent. He handled my mother's post-surgery medication and somehow mixed up the drug. He gave her a potent blood thinner. That night, she died from a hemorrhage after her operation. Before I could even accuse him, the intern had his puppy-dog eyes ready. "I'm sorry, Dr. Benford, but I thought that was the drug you wanted me to mix. Who was I to question my superior's order?" Then the hospital director, who was also my wife, chimed in, "Your mom is the idiot for taking her meds without checking. She brought this on herself." I was so enraged that I had a heart attack, which meant I had to undergo surgery in the same hospital. The intern insisted on redeeming himself and assisted Victoria during the operation. He could not even thread a needle because his hands kept trembling. In the middle of the procedure, this medical fraud removed his mask and wet the end of the surgical thread to force it through. I died in the ICU the next day. The cause was a bacterial infection. As I neared death, I heard the intern whine through tears, "How could I be so careless? If I weren't so clumsy, Dr. Benford would have lived." Victoria gently ruffled his hair. "Don't take it to heart, pumpkin. Everyone knows how risky medical procedures can be. You're just starting out, so don't be so hard on yourself." Because of my wife's efforts, both my mother and I were cremated without any investigation or disciplinary action. You would think that was the end. It wasn't. The next time I opened my eyes, I was back on the day Hugo Spencer first joined our hospital as an intern.

Evelyn Larson's nephew, Maxwell Larson, has been staying at my home for 12 years. On top of sponsoring everything he has in life, I even view him as my own son. Heck, I'm the one who paid the down payment for Maxwell's new family home. But on the night we're having a holiday dinner, he throws me a list in front of everyone. "Uncle Lawrence, I've already hashed out the details with my fiancee's family. We'll be giving her family 700 thousand dollars as a wedding gift. You've raised me for so many years, so you need to prepare this amount for me." I frown instantly. "Didn't I just settle your down payment for you? Besides, Tiffany's about to get married soon. I need to save some money for her own wedding gift." But Maxwell instantly smashes a plate out of anger. "Since she's marrying into another family, that means she's no longer a part of this family! Are you saying that you're willing to give your money to an outsider rather than your own nephew? "If you refuse to agree to my terms, I'll make Aunt Evelyn divorce you right now!" I turn to look at Evelyn out of instinct, only to see her pulling out a gift agreement that she has already drafted. "We don't need to prepare any wedding gifts for Tiffany, seeing as she's the one marrying into another family. Max, on the other hand, is the only son of the Larson family. You should give your money to him instead."

Flynn Watson, the actual heir of the Watson family, reported me for cheating during the exams. As I stared at both copies of the test papers with perfect grades and the same answers, I found it difficult to explain what happened. Everyone took Flynn's side. Because of that, I was painted as a cheater, which resulted in my exile from the Watson family. The Watsons went as far as to get me blacklisted from all industries just so they could appease Flynn. I ended up on the streets as a homeless person, where I got tormented incessantly. In a daze, I got hit by a car. I still failed to understand why my test papers would show the same answers as Flynn's even when I was on death's door. When I open my eyes again, I've gotten reborn on the day of the exams. This time, I choose to not write anything on the exam papers at all. I'd like to see just how I can be branded as a cheater now that I'm not given any marks at all.

Everyone cheered on the most handsome student in our elective class, Jack Anderson, to reveal his ideal type. “My future wife has to be at least five feet five inches tall, and her parents must be professors. She also has to be beautiful and a top student in her field…” While everyone cheered, I immediately looked up. Why did the description… sound like my girlfriend, Cindy Swift? The next second, the professor standing next to the podium, Liam Swift, immediately smiled obsequiously. “That’s great! If Cindy hears this, she’ll be very happy! “You should meet her so that she wouldn’t go overseas over some silly guy.” Our classmates were roaring with laughter. I lowered my eyes and stared at the text message my parents had sent me. [You rascal! Are you sure you want to accompany your girlfriend overseas? No one will take over our family business, then!]

When my cousin, Rita Pike, brings her boyfriend, Benny Booker, home to meet her parents, I get labelled as a freeloader for some reason. As soon as Benny steps through the front door, he shoots me a disdainful glance. "You're the cousin who refuses to move out of my girlfriend's villa, right?" I just stare at him in confusion. Yes, I do live in this villa. But my parents have left this property to me as a part of my assets. My name is the one printed on the property deed. Heck, I'm the one who told my butler to give Rita a room to stay here! Why is it that I'm painted as the poor relative who refuses to move out now that she's dating another man?

My wife, Alisha West, has always been obsessively frugal. After marrying her, my single guilty pleasure became blowing money on luxury watches—almost like revenge for how absurdly tightfisted she was. By the time our daughter, Elyse Day, turned 7, she had inherited every bit of her mother’s penny-pinching nature. The two of them looked completely out of place in our sprawling mansion. And I loved it. I’d slip into my latest custom-tailored suits and watch them wince at my credit card statements, their expressions twisted in quiet pain. Until one day, lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This spendthrift idiot is still shopping? Doesn’t he know his wife’s company is about to go bankrupt?] [She’s been drained dry supporting this parasite. Her T-shirt collar is practically worn out from washing. Good thing the financially savvy male lead is about to show up and save her.] [Can’t wait for Alisha to file for divorce and kick this useless freeloader out. Let’s see how he survives fighting stray dogs for scraps under a bridge.] I slammed the limited-edition Richard Mille watch onto the table. Alisha, who was crouched on the floor breaking down delivery boxes for recycling, and Elyse, who was helping stomp them flat, both jumped in shock. A chill ran through me. I lunged forward, snatched the battered cardboard box from Elyse’s hands, and held it tightly against my chest. "No… no more buying. I’m returning this watch. "And these boxes… don’t sell them. I think we might need them someday… to lay out under a bridge when we’re sleeping outside…"

At midnight, the ER receives a pregnant patient with an extremely pale face, and she's convulsing violently at the same time. I lift her shirt on the spot so that I can diagnose her symptoms better. But my wife, Selena Carson, who also works as the head nurse, suddenly berates me angrily. "Do you have any idea that what you're doing is sexual harassment? Can't you spare the patient her pride? "Don't use your treatment as an excuse! I refuse to believe that there aren't any female doctors in the ER at all!" The patient's family members streamed the whole thing live. Soon, everyone was blasting me on the Internet. The hospital forces me to apologize to the pregnant patient. But I decide to tender my resignation the very next day. After all, the patient's disease has a frighteningly high chance of getting misdiagnosed, not to mention it's incredibly difficult to cure. In fact, no one but I can cure her once and for all.

While I was eating, I came across a post on X. [Found out my girlfriend has a nasty disease and is pregnant. I want my buddy to be the one left holding the bag. What should I do?] I was just about to comment that the poster was out of his mind when I scrolled down and realized people were actually giving him advice. [That's easy! If you two are close, just invite him on a trip.] [Get your girlfriend and your buddy drunk in the middle of the night, then have them stay in your buddy's room. When the time comes, catch them in the act. You can break up and push the kid onto your buddy to take responsibility…] Reading that comment, I couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. I was about to show my friend this mind-blowing post so we could rant about it together when he suddenly looked up at me and asked, "Tyler, are you free this weekend? How about we go on a trip?"

Outside the police tape surrounding a fancy hotel, a police officer can be seen blocking my way. "There seems to be a bomb hidden in the hotel! Unauthorized personnel are not allowed to get any closer!" I'm just about to dig out my work badge when the intern next to me, Christine Wyatt, covers her mouth in a pretentiously shocked manner. "Officer, there's a detonator and a timer in his bag! Those things look so scary!" The entire scene goes eerily silent. Almost immediately, I see a few guns getting aimed at my forehead. Anxiety begins overwhelming me. "I'm a bomb disposal expert from the Headquarters Explosive Ordnance Disposal Unit! My bag contains all the tools necessary to dispose of a bomb!" "Throw your bag over to me and keep your hands where I can see them!" Captain Scott Hunter roars at me. My bag is opened afterward. Things like an insulated cutter, a bomb suppression blanket, and a liquid nitrogen cooling tank are scattered across the ground. Before I can explain myself, Christine suddenly points at me while screaming, "Why are you still playing dumb? You just told me that you wanted to set off an explosion in that hotel! "What, now that the police are here, you dare not admit what you just said, huh? You're a terrorist through and through!" Scott reacts quickly by pinning me on the hood of the police cruiser with my hands folded behind my back. "We're taking you back for a thorough interrogation!" My heart almost stops at those words. The bomb that's packed with enough firepower to take out half a street has already gone on a countdown in the hotel lobby. But I, the only bomb disposal expert who can get rid of the bomb, have handcuffs put on me because of Christine's nonsensical accusations. Right now, there are only 29 minutes left before the bomb goes off.