Perfect Stranger

My sister-in-law, Esmerelda Black, hates that her mother, Ruth Jennings, favors me. To make things worse, she has the ability to hear Ruth's thoughts. And she uses that gift against me. When I tell Ruth to have more vegetables to stay healthy, Esmerelda says, "Clara is such a cheapskate not to buy you meat. She doesn't ask her own mom to eat more vegetables." When I encourage Ruth to exercise more to build strength, she says, "Mom, you're already old. You should be taking it easy. Clara wants you to work yourself to death." Slowly, Ruth grows to hate me. In the end, Esmerelda acquires the family business, seizes the fortune, and trafficks me to North Maldia to die. However, when I open my eyes again, I have her gift too—I can also hear Ruth's thoughts.

Before the world turned to ice, her family came knocking, ready to negotiate the terms of our marriage. They wanted more than commitment. They wanted three million dollars and three luxury homes. My parents shut them down immediately. It was ridiculous. Then, the storm hit. The blizzard sealed us inside the house. With numbers on their side and no mercy to spare, her family took control of everything. The food. The heat. Our chances. When we fought back, we lost. They dragged us outside and left us in the snow. We froze. Then, I opened my eyes. I was back to before it all began.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed inside and told the officer on duty that the killings weren't random—that the murderer was coming for me. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. Then my husband arrived in a hurry and took me away. But the moment we reached our front door, a heavy hammer smashed into the back of my head. Through the blinding pain, I forced my eyes open, but I never saw who killed me. Now, staring at the grave expression on the news anchor's face, agony surged through every inch of my body. Rebirth isn't a reset. The damage accumulates—and sooner or later, it will torture me to death. Without hesitation, I walked into the kitchen and set a pot of oil to heat. And I waited… for the moment the lock began to turn.

My child-free husband went back to his hometown for a funeral, and after he returned, he suddenly wanted me to have a baby. He was one of the best obgyns in the state, so he handled my IVF procedure himself. After more than 160 hormone shots, we finally heard the baby’s rhythmic heartbeats for the first time, which made my usually calm husband tear up. Soon, he tightened every part of my routine, from a strict diet to my schedule, and once my belly started showing, he barely let me get out of bed. I thought he was just being overly protective. But then, right by my ear, I heard a nasty little boy’s voice. [Which player starts their mission inside the womb? And she’s not even my mom!] [Just four more months. My dad will make sure she dies on the operating table so he can keep only his son.] [After that, he’ll bring my real mom back, and my mission will be complete!] I canceled my afternoon checkup immediately as soon as I heard this. Did the system forget to tell him that he wasn’t the only player in this world?

On my birthday, my boyfriend ditched his childhood friend's desperate call to be with me. Devastated by his rejection, she spiraled into depression and ended her life. Heartbroken, he proposed to me beside her body. "I've already lost Giselle. I can't lose you, too." I said yes, moved by his grief and sincerity. But on our wedding night, he turned on me, hacking me with a knife. "You vile woman! Giselle died because of you. Time to feel her pain!" As I bled out, the girl waltzed back, saying she'd faked her death to spook him. Overjoyed, he pointed at my corpse. "Thank God, you're alive. This wretched woman is gone, and we're free to be together." They looted my wealth for their lavish wedding and happy life. When my eyes snapped open again, I was back on that fateful birthday.

I sponsored Emily Fagan from an underprivileged background just to help her get through school. She was good-looking but wasn't exactly the brightest. Despite my warning not to tamper with my things, she slipped stimulants into my water bottle. Thanks to her, I was accused of cheating in the swimming competition. Our team's score was nullified. As for me, I was banned from competing for life and kicked out of college. When I confronted her, she cried pitifully, "Julie, I just wanted you to win. I didn't know that'd happen." My boyfriend, Elijah Strauss, held her and comforted her. He even snapped at me, claiming, "Em had good intentions. Why are you giving her a hard time?" Crushed, I shut myself in at home. Feeling sorry, she and Elijah visited me and brought along some vodka as an apology. After I took ten shots, I asked her to buy some over-the-counter pain relievers for my splitting headache. Little did I know that she'd make me take a dangerous dose of Ibuprofen mixed with alcohol. The bleeding in my stomach was what killed me. Emily looked pitifully remorseful at the hospital. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't even tell what I shouldn't have given her…" During the police interrogation, my boyfriend gave false testimony to protect her. He accused me of taking my own life by mixing Ibuprofen and alcohol because I couldn't handle the mental stress from cheating in the competition. When I reopened my eyes, I found out that I was transported to the day before the competition.

After dating for seven years, I proposed a hundred and one times to my boyfriend, Jason Brown. However, he always told me that he was not ready, rejecting my proposals. This continued to my 28th birthday. In his suit pocket, I found a ring box. Thinking he was about to propose to me, I was overjoyed. However, to my horror, I saw him going down on one knee to propose to his assistant, Marcella Hopkins. Right before my eyes, he placed the ring I had yearned for so long on her finger. When one of his buddies asked what he planned to do with me, Jason wrapped his arm around his new love and chuckled. "Dude, I don't think I can bring myself to marry a woman who wants to get married that badly. She's so needy. However, if I do get a second wife, I might consider her. After all, she is hopelessly in love with me." He was sure I would wait for him, and he even placed a bet with his friends that I would crash his wedding. However, on his wedding day, I never showed up. Moments before his wedding ceremony was about to start, he suddenly noticed me, fully dressed up in a wedding gown in a separate banquet hall. Seeing me about to marry someone else, he almost went crazy.

After checking my final exam results, I hand the bottle of water given by my mother and the amethyst bracelet given by my childhood friend to the school bully with AIDS. In my previous life, my exam score of 1250 was swapped with the score of 600 of my younger adopted sister, Adelia Quentin, right after I drank that bottle of water. My health immediately deteriorated in the following days. I had a high fever and kept on coughing up blood. I was even nearly bedridden from severe pain. On the other hand, Adelia miraculously recovered from her stomach cancer. I begged my mother to send me to the hospital. But not only did she refuse, but she even mocked me and accused me of faking my illness. She then locked me in the basement. They celebrated Adelia's enrollment in university while I writhed helplessly in pain. In the end, I died in the basement all alone. After my death, Adelia used my exam score of 1250 to study at a renowned university. She also officially started her relationship with Thomas Haynes, my childhood friend. It was only then that I finally realized that the bottle of water my mother handed me had been cursed. My exam results would be swapped away when I drank it. Meanwhile, the amethyst bracelet Thomas gifted me would swap my health condition with Adelia's three days after I wore it. I'd get Adelia's stomach cancer and die a painful death. Just as I open my eyes again, I find myself back on the day I checked my exam results.

After our class reunion, my best friend naturally expected me to play chauffeur and drive everyone home. I agreed. However, halfway down the road, a limited-edition luxury car slammed into the back of my car. The owner, who claimed to be a wealthy businessman from overseas, waved off the idea of filing an insurance claim. He said the crash was fate, and with a grand gesture, handed the luxury car over to me on the spot. From that day on, I drove the million-dollar luxury car every day, until jealousy consumed my best friend. She secretly sabotaged my car, and it ended with my death in a fiery wreck. My boyfriend turned on me, insisting I had simply fallen asleep at the wheel. My parents, unable to bear the shock, both died of heart attacks. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the reunion.

On the day of our engagement, my girlfriend, Jean Sullivan, is nowhere to be found until late at night. Beside myself with worry, I, Seth Lloyd, frantically reach out to our mutual friends and even consider calling the police. Suddenly, I come across a post about her from her assistant, Callum Cox. "My manager came over to discuss some plans, but the door lock suddenly broke. Does this mean we're going to be stuck in the same room tonight? I can't help feeling a little excited." When I like the post, Jean immediately calls me, furious. "Don't you have any idea how much I earn in a year? Just one day of my lost income would cover what you make in a whole week. "All I did was skip that stupid engagement party, and you start acting all snide. I don't have time to deal with your stingy relatives." My mom, Teresa Whitfield, stays silent, her eyes sweeping over the gold, eight sets of haute couture jewelry, and several property transfer deeds in the private room. With a forced smile, she asks, "Seth, have all these wedding gifts we've prepared embarrassed you?" I sneer, caressing the keys to the luxury car I'm about to give Jean. "No, it's me who's being too generous to her."