Practice Makes Perfect

The year my family goes bankrupt, I cling to Ewan Rivera for one last night. When I wake up, I throw my final bit of money at him. "You can go cozy up to some other sugar mommy now. You don't need to degrade yourself by serving an ugly woman like me." I'm kicked out by the people liquidating our assets, and everyone points and laughs at the birthmark on my face. Meanwhile, Ewan's friends are busy celebrating his fresh start. "With a face like yours, tons of wealthy, gorgeous women are lining up for you. Why torture yourself with that ugly chick?" "Now that she's bankrupt, she won't cling to you anymore, right?" Five years later, Ewan has gone from being a broke campus heartthrob to a rising star in business. In the interview room, he flips through my application and pauses on my photo. He asks coolly, "You're 28? You already have a child?" I meet his probing gaze and introduce myself. "Yes. I'm Ingrid Landeau. I'm married with a daughter." I've changed my name and removed the large birthmark on my face. Ewan can't recognize me anymore.

My name is Greta Ellsworth. In my past life, my best friend, Poppy McKellen, and I both married into the Lockwood family. They are a prestigious household with a long-standing legacy in alternative medicine. Poppy marries the eldest son, Bruce Lockwood, while I marry the younger son, Owen Lockwood. Poppy gives birth to three children with Bruce. They each grow up to be prodigies in medicine. Meanwhile, I have only one daughter with Owen—Wendy Lockwood. Sadly, Wendy struggles with even the most basic math and isn't very bright. Owen's pride takes over, and he is left feeling utterly embarrassed. Years later, I take Wendy to a medical symposium. When she shyly whispers, "Dad," the crowd erupts in laughter. Enraged and humiliated, Owen stabs Wendy to death. Before I can react, he turns my way and strikes me down as well. When I open my eyes again, I realize that both Owen and I have been reborn. I take in the scene of our families' matchmaking event once more. This time, Owen reaches for Poppy's hand and says, "I like you. Will you marry me?"

The new teacher gave the wrong medicine, causing a child to suffer sudden cardiac arrest and die after failing to receive timely help. My fiance, who was also the vice principal, forged evidence on her behalf and pinned all the blame on me. I was fired and reported by the child's parents. Due to insufficient evidence, I was acquitted. But the child's devastated parents broke into my home with a kitchen knife and hacked me to death, severing me in multiple places. My fiance chose to cover it up for them. He disposed of my body and even comforted the parents. "A life for a life. Let this be my atonement." When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very day the teacher gave the child the wrong medicine.

When I saw my best friend tending to the elderly man upstairs with such diligence in washing his clothes, cooking his meals, feeding him medicine, and giving him massages, I immediately knew that she had been reborn, too. In my previous life, my best friend and I shared an apartment. We were often awakened in the middle of the night by the old man’s cough from upstairs. When I went up to check on him, I learned that his legs were paralyzed, and he had no children or family. Out of sympathy, I decided to care for him. I brought him his daily meals and gave him massages. A month later, out of the blue, the old man mysteriously handed me a bank card and said, “There’s eight million here. It’s my reward to you.” With that money, I immediately went and paid off my father’s medical bills. Later, the old man went even further and transferred the ownership of the apartment that we were renting to me. He told me, “When your father is discharged, move in together. That way, I’ll have someone to keep me company, too!” When my best friend learned of this, however, she went ballistic. During the few days I was having trouble sleeping, she had secretly spiked my water with a lethal dose of sleeping pills. She watched as I died in agony. After my death, my boyfriend, posing as my fiancé, cut off my father’s medical bills and took away the old man’s bank card. Meanwhile, my best friend spread slanderous rumors among the neighbors, claiming the old man gave me money because I had sold myself to him. Half a year later, the two got married and paid in full for a luxury apartment in the city centre. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very day when the old man upstairs was coughing uncontrollably.

In my last life, my mother, Lydia Hudson, gave me a pair of earrings worth millions at my coming-of-age ceremony. The moment I wear them, I go from being a rising beauty in the entertainment industry to looking like an old woman in her 80s. Mom stays completely calm. She locks me in the basement and cuts off all contact with the outside world. It isn't until my brother's girlfriend, Stephanie Meyer, kindly rescues me that I finally see the outside world again. But before I can even thank her, I'm stabbed to death by a mob of obsessed fans. "When I visited the first time, your mom only gave me a one-million-dollar gift. It's only your birthday, yet you get earrings worth tens of millions? The Quinton family fortune is mine. If you dare to fight me for it, this is what'll happen to you," she told me. It's only after my death that I learn that she was furious about Lydia giving me the earrings. She spread rumors online that I was a gold-digging opportunist and incited her followers to kill me. When I open my eyes again, I am back on the day of my coming-of-age ceremony. Without hesitation, I hand the earrings to Stephanie. If she wants the Soul-Sworn Earrings, I will give them to her.

My younger sister, Rosalie White, and I are twin mermaids, born with the divine gift of bearing sacred beasts. On the day we come of age, Father presents us with all the unmarried princes of the beast clans. Rosalie picks Charles Summer, the powerful prince of the zilant clan, in hopes of birthing a sacred beast and claiming the beast throne. However, her five babies are all dark, frail half-zilants of the lowest rank. I, with my weak and sickly body, join with Jasper Warren of the serpent clan, the most despised of them all. I end up succeeding in giving birth to a sacred beast hatchling. On the day of the coronation, Rosalie refuses to accept it. She strangles my hatchling and rips out my beast core. Then, she throws our bodies into the beast furnace, destroying us completely. … After my reincarnation, I see Rosalie pointing at Jasper and says, "I only want him." I know that she has also been reincarnated. I chuckle coldly. I'd like to see if she can bear a sacred beast in this lifetime.

I married Eleanor Vance on the very same day her true love was getting married next door. Just as we were about to exchange rings, the man himself stormed into our ceremony. Red-eyed and shaking, he announced that the only woman he'd ever loved was Eleanor and that he couldn't go through with marrying the fiancee waiting for him, the one battling a terminal illness. Eleanor didn't even look at me. She pulled her hand from mine and ran after him. I was left standing there, humiliated, while my mother was so angry she ended up in the hospital. Later, the abandoned bride and I caught each other's eyes for a moment. I asked quietly, "Do you want to switch grooms?" Three years passed before Eleanor came back. She was crying, saying she regretted everything. But I scooped up both kids from the backseat, one in each arm. I stepped aside and said, "Excuse me. I'm in a hurry to pick up my wife from work."

After getting fired from my company, I returned to the countryside, spending my days playing rummy with my grandmother, but my entire family went insane, searching for me everywhere. It was because my younger sister, the family's prodigy jewelry designer, couldn't come up with a single design after I left. In my previous life, at the National Jewelry Design Competition, she managed to produce designs identical to mine before I even finished mine. Everyone assumed I had copied her work. Even my own family testified in her favor. The company accused me of misconduct and plagiarism, claiming my actions had tarnished their reputation. I was fired on the spot and ordered to pay a huge fine. My family, seeing me as nothing but a burden, threw me out of the house. Crushed by the weight of family betrayal and public judgment, I fell into depression, only to be killed on the street by one of my sister's obsessive fans. As my consciousness faded, I couldn't understand why my sister managed to create the exact same design before I did. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day I just signed up for the National Jewelry Design Competition.

I called my wife, a forensic specialist, after learning that my in-laws were involved in a car accident. It was on the 80th call that she finally answered, "I'm just trying to celebrate Justin's birthday for him. What's wrong with you? Can you not get jealous over just about anything?" I informed her that Mom, Dad, and sister had died in a car accident, and that she should hurry back to arrange for their funeral. To my surprise, she scoffed at my suggestion and replied, "What does your family's death have to do with me?" She was not involved in the funeral arrangements at all. On top of that, she even falsified evidence for her love interest—the culprit who killed her family—in court as a forensics specialist. Eventually, on the day I informed her of my intention to divorce, she threw a fit. "Patrick, it's just the death of a few of your family members. Justin didn't do it on purpose. It was just an accident. "Moreover, it's because of your parents' and sister's carelessness on the road that led to the accident. Why are you making things difficult for me and insisting on divorce? I've truly misjudged you…" Noticing the indignance in her response, I finally understood. It seemed she had no idea that it was her family that died in the accident all this while.

On day two of Matthew's so-called business trip, I was wiping down the counter when I said, "Auri, play some music." Instead of music, a syrupy voice chirped, "Sure thing, my Baby Moon. Oh, and Matthew, don't forget Bibi's birthday surprise tonight." I froze. The speaker blasted some random playlist, but all I heard was 'Bibi.' Matthew Kein was my husband. So who the hell was Bibi? I called him. "Did you mess with our smart speaker?" A beat of silence, then his fake laugh. "Oh, a buddy dropped by. Probably logged his account in. Why?" I laughed back like I bought it, then hung up. Two taps later, I was scrolling the login history, already hailing a cab to the company tied to that mystery account.