The One Went Up in Flames
I burned my painting right in front of the students and university staff.
Thunderous applause filled the hall.
Everyone thought it was some kind of performance.
But my senior in the graduate program panicked. He rushed forward and grabbed my wrist, his voice tight.
“Connor, have you gone mad? This is your only shot to prove yourself!”
I shook him off, cold.
A chance? That was his chance, right?
During my past life, he stole the painting I poured my heart and soul into and entered it in the competition ahead of me.
The composition, the colors, even my original technique… He copied all of it.
He won the Gold Award for the National Youth Art Competition, signed with a top gallery, and basked in glory.
Meanwhile, I was branded a shameless plagiarist.
The insults and curses overwhelmed me completely.
"Get out of the art scene already!"
“A plagiarist like you should just die!”
His fans stormed my studio, smashed my tools, and broke my right hand.
With my world in ruins, I jumped off the studio roof.
Opening my eyes again, I realized I had returned to the day my senior accused me of plagiarism.