During the most desperately broke year of my life, I used an anonymous alt account to cyberbully the university's arrogant billionaire heir every single day. [So what if you’re handsome? You still just have two eyes and a nose.] [Wearing that white button-down every day like you’re starring in a movie. Stop acting so pretentious.] [I hate fake, high-and-mighty rich people like you the most! Why isn't your money mine?!] [I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!] Later, my phone broke and I had to send it in for repairs. When I finally turned it back on a few days later, my messages exploded. The billionaire heir: [Why didn't you say you hated me today?] [Did you find a new target?] [Are they sexier than me?] [Image: v-line_abs.jpg] [Or do they have more money than me?] [Image: bank_account_balance.jpg] [I’m not showing you this for any specific reason. Don't overthink it.] [Actually, you can overthink it if you want.] [But I’m not easy. Only my girlfriend gets to enjoy my body and my money.] [Seeing as how desperate you are for cash, I suppose I could consider you.] [But you have to make the first move.] [Say something.] [Fine, you win. I accept your pursuit.] [Baby, what are you doing? Come pay attention to your boyfriend ('ε`)~] Me, staring at my newly fixed phone: [?] 1 I was an incredibly broke, deeply cynical college student. My mother was severely ill in the hospital, and my father was drowning in gambling debts. Every dime of my college tuition was paid for by student loans. While everyone else was enjoying the golden years of college—eating out, partying, traveling, and taking selfies—I was grinding through four or five part-time jobs a day just to survive. I was worked like a dog. Every night, I’d drag my exhausted body back to the dorms, only to be forced to listen to my rich-girl roommate casually flex her lifestyle. Which elite gala she attended, what artisanal pastries she ate, which luxury designer bags her endless line of suitors bought her. After working myself to the bone all day, I’d lie in bed, physically exhausted and desperate for sleep. But listening to her brag made my eyes burn with so much jealousy I couldn't close them. I had to scrape together tuition for the next semester. I had to stay hyper-vigilant against the debt collectors showing up at our door. On my phone, the hospital bills for my mom’s treatment updated daily, draining my account like a leaky faucet. Even if I did absolutely nothing all day, the money still vanished from my account, penny by agonizing penny. I was terrifyingly broke! Meanwhile, a single piece of jewelry on my roommate’s wrist cost more than several months of my blood, sweat, and tears. Whenever she complained about how "boring" her life was... I practically ground my molars into dust. Why can't I be the one who's bored?! 2 Tonight, just as I was finally drifting off to sleep. CRASH— Something was violently smashed onto the floor. I jolted awake instantly. I had finally found a moment to rest, and being violently woken up made a fire ignite in my chest. I looked over and saw my other roommates crowding around the rich girl, trying to comfort her. "Lily, it's Carter Sterling! He's literally the king of the university!" "Yeah, if my dad told me I was arranged to marry him, I’d be smiling in my sleep." "I heard his family's wealth is basically a GDP, and they donated four buildings to the school!" Lily kept her chin high, her face twisted in an arrogant sneer as she threw another textbook on the floor. "So what?! I hate that my family is trying to arrange my marriage! Am I just an object for them to control? I don't care if he's the sole heir to the Sterling conglomerate, I just don't like him!" Hearing that sentence, my teeth ground together, my face contorting with rage. If you don't want the arranged marriage, give it to me! I'll take it! Marrying the heir to the Sterling empire meant my entire life would be permanently set on easy mode. Listening to Lily’s pathetic complaints, the fire in my chest grew hotter. Thinking about having to wake up at 6:00 AM tomorrow for my first shift made me even angrier! Some people had everything handed to them without lifting a finger. I was basically crawling on the ceiling in the dark, consumed by pure, unadulterated jealousy. The frustration just wouldn't dissipate. I knew who Carter Sterling was. He was the most famous guy on campus; finding his WeChat ID wasn't exactly difficult. The hard part was getting him to accept the friend request. After my roommates finally went to sleep. I stared at my phone screen with a deadpan expression. I logged into my burner account and sent him a friend request: [So what if you're handsome? You're still totally unlikable.] I knew he would never accept it. It was purely a way to vent my toxic rage. My phone buzzed. A few seconds later, the screen showed he had accepted my friend request. Him: [?] My fingers, which had been typing out a second venomous insult, froze. His profile picture was a vast, pristine blue ocean. It stood in stark contrast to my profile picture, which was just a pitch-black square. It made me feel even more like a rat hiding in a sewer. In the safety of the dark, I shed my daytime persona of the frugal, hardworking, sweet girl. I typed out a string of bitter, spiteful words: [Do you think sending a single question mark makes you look cool and aloof?] [Stop acting so pretentious stop acting so pretentious stop acting so pretentious.] Him: [Who are you?] Me: [A cynical, spiteful beautiful girl.] Him: [...Why did you add me?] Me: [I hate how you rich people always look down on everyone. Just because you asked doesn't mean I have to tell you. I won't!] Him: [Fine. Blocked.] When I tried to send another message, a red exclamation mark appeared. But honestly? I felt incredible. I had found a brand-new way to vent my miserable life. Every time my rich roommate showed off in the dorm, or threw a loud tantrum while I was trying to sleep. I used my burner account to unleash a barrage of cyberbullying on her arranged fiancé, the Sterling heir. I just kept sending him new friend requests. [Why are you sleeping? I can't sleep, so you don't get to sleep either!] [I hate fake, high-and-mighty rich people like you the most! You have everything, yet you still act so moody and dramatic!] [Everyone only surrounds you because of your money! Without your money, you're nothing!] [Why isn't your money mine?! Ahhhhhh why!!] [I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!] I treated Carter Sterling like my personal emotional dumpster. I gleefully chanted my dark, toxic curses. Carter Sterling: [...Enough.] The system showed we were friends again. When did he accept my friend request this time? Me: [Did I give you permission to accept my request? Block me again.] Him: [Did I do something to offend you?] Me: [Yes!] Him: [What?] Me: [You have more money than me. I hate everyone who has more money than me.] Him: [...Do you ever sleep? You always message me in the middle of the night.] Is it because I don't want to sleep?! It's because your arranged fiancée is staying up late watching K-dramas with no headphones and ruining my sleep! If I can't sleep, no one gets to sleep. I typed darkly: [Because cynical beautiful girls only roam at night. By offending me, you've offended the rat in the sewer!] He replied with a sticker of a sighing cartoon cat. My heart felt immensely lighter. After expelling all that toxic energy, my physical health genuinely felt better. I fell into a deep, comfortable sleep. 3 A month later, the university held its annual sports festival. I woke up at the crack of dawn to volunteer, handing out water to the athletes. Carter Sterling was there. On the basketball court, he and his teammates moved with flawless synergy. His movements were fluid and explosive. Every time he went for a dunk, his jersey rode up, exposing a glimpse of his abs, causing the girls in the bleachers to scream like they were at a concert. It was giving me a massive headache. I already wasn't sleeping well. I stared blankly at the golden boy dominating the court. His jawline was razor-sharp, his nose perfectly straight. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose down to his collarbone. A girl shyly handed him a bottle of water. He took it and offered a polite "Thank you." Courteous and gentlemanly. The girl covered her face and ran away, her heart practically beating out of her chest. She even bumped into me in her panic. I cursed internally. Noticing Carter's gaze drift my way, I slapped on a bright, customer-service smile and told him he played a great game. The second he turned away, I aggressively rolled my eyes. I'm the one working the hardest here! I still had to clean up the entire court later. I crawled back into my dark mental space. I take back what I said before. Besides being filthy rich, Carter Sterling also had a face that could ruin lives. Why did the universe favor him so much, while I was treated like an NPC? Handing him water was treated like some supreme honor. It's not fair! Those basketball shoes he was wearing cost enough to pay off all my dad's gambling debts. And he was just casually stepping on them. My face twisted in pure bitterness. "Excuse me, are you Chloe?" Suddenly, the guy who had just walked away turned back around. I didn't have time to fix my face, so my features just twitched awkwardly. "Are you okay?" His voice was laced with genuine concern. Carter was much taller than me. Standing right in front of me, his shadow completely swallowed me. I guiltily covered my twitching face, terrified he'd realize I was the cyberbully: "I'm fine, I-I just... my blood sugar is a little low." He looked at me with gentle detachment. "Carrying all this water by yourself must be exhausting." He bent down and helped me carry the remaining cases of water. He even called over a few of his friends to help me pick up all the empty plastic bottles left on the bleachers and throw them in the trash. The sun was blinding. My eyes stung with tears. Why is this billionaire heir suddenly acting like a saint?! Doesn't he know I can recycle those empty bottles for cash?! My heart bled, but my last shred of poor-person dignity wouldn't let me scream at the billionaire and his elite frat brothers: "Put the bottles down! Let me do it!" After they finished cleaning up, Carter saw my expression of utter devastation. He assumed I was just overwhelmed with gratitude. "No problem, it was nothing. Our game caused a mess, it's the least we could do." Fake! I couldn't fathom why the school's golden boy was suddenly being so helpful. Did my dark, cynical rants actually make him start pitying the working class? As they walked away, they weren't quite out of earshot, and I could hear their conversation. "Carter, why are you suddenly playing the knight in shining armor? Trying to hit on her?" "No way. Carter didn't even look twice at the girl from the arts campus. Why would he go for some broke girl whose sweater is literally pilling? You know what a clean freak he is." "Speaking of which, hasn't Carter been chatting up some girl online lately? How's that going? Did you hit a home run yet?" The guys erupted into laughter. Carter's sharp eyes narrowed, and he laughed, cursing at them. "Fuck off, all of you." "You guys have way too much free time." I knew it! Just a typical, sleazy rich playboy. He has an arranged fiancée, and he's still casually hooking up with girls online. After silently roasting him with pure disgust, I sprinted to the trash cans to fish out the empty water bottles. They were still worth money! 4 The world of a poor, cynical college student is incredibly monotonous. Part-time jobs, classes, sleep. Surviving was fine, dying was also acceptable. Lying in bed, I unlocked my phone, desperate to look at something that would bring me a tiny ounce of joy. I opened my main WeChat account, and the first thing I saw was Lily posting photos of her three new Hermès Birkin bags. Disgusting! I switched to my burner account. And the first thing I saw was Carter posting videos of himself racing sports cars and working out at the gym. Pretentious! My vision went dark. I felt even more exhausted. I am going to war with you rich people! I started maliciously harassing Carter again. [Why do you have so much money?! I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!] He seemed to be in a good mood today, and actually replied. Him: [Are you really struggling for money?] [I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!!!] Carter Sterling has transferred $5,000 to you. Me: [!!] I could collect recycling for years and never see that kind of money. Him: [Do you still hate me?] Me: [Don't think that...] Carter Sterling has transferred $50,000 to you. I clutched my chest. I counted the zeros. Tens, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands... [Do you still hate me?] As someone who literally saved money in increments of ten dollars, I had never witnessed such a direct, aggressive display of wealth. My morals were severely tested. Me: [Honestly... you're not that bad.] He sent a voice memo. I instinctively tapped it. The man was laughing. His voice was cold, yet incredibly magnetic, the final syllable dragging out lazily. "I'm just... 'not that bad'?" I almost dropped my phone. Why is he using that tone of voice?! Did he really think I would be seduced by his fake charm? He had merely blinded me temporarily with his overwhelming wealth. [Of course you're just 'not that bad'. Don't think that just because you have money, you're a flawless human being.] Him: [For example?] Me: [Wearing that white button-down when you play basketball is incredibly pretentious. And in the library, when that girl confessed to you, you ripped up her love letter right in front of her and threw it on the floor. Did you ever think about the janitor who has to clean that up...] Him: [Are you stalking me?] Stalking him?! As if! It was just that every time he caused a scene, I happened to be working a shift nearby. Is it my fault I have too many part-time jobs?! [I wouldn't waste my time stalking you. I wish you would disappear from my sight forever.] Him: [So it sounds like we've definitely met in person.] Realizing he was quietly interrogating me to figure out my identity, I panicked and immediately deleted the rest of my drafted complaints. No matter what he sent after that, I only replied: [I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you!] He suddenly changed the subject: [You hate when I wear white button-downs. So what do you like? I'll wear whatever you want.] What kind of line was that? Did he really mean he'd wear whatever I told him to? I let my malice run wild: [I like it when you wear absolutely nothing, and I walk you around on a dog leash.]
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