After winning a staggering eighty million dollars in the lottery, I immediately withdrew from the National Online Fiction Competition. When Cassius Blackwood, a fellow student, found out, he slapped me across the face. "Running away like a coward on the eve of battle, do you really think you're honoring our professor's guidance and your friends' hopes?" he sneered, his voice dripping with accusation. "Or is it that your submission is flawed, and you're just scared the judges will discover it?" In my previous life, Cassius's competition entry was identical to mine. I'd begged Victoria, my editor and the source of my novel's inspiration, and Chloe, my childhood friend who I'd spent every day with, to help clear my name. But they'd released apology statements instead, practically begging the judges to overlook my "youthful indiscretion" and grant me a second chance. The internet, however, was merciless, roaring its condemnation and branding me a "shameless plagiarist." Unable to prove my innocence, I bore the stigma, expelled from school and facing crippling penalties. My mother, desperate to clear my name, tirelessly fought for justice, only to be cyberbullied herself, falling gravely ill overnight. The relentless blows shattered my spirit. To spare my family further burden, I leapt from the hospital rooftop, plunging into the abyss. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back exactly one week before the competition. … "Ethan, I made your favorite braised ribs. Have some before you write, okay?" Victoria, my sister, five years my senior, signed, her face etched with a familiar tenderness. I jolted, nearly toppling from my chair, a wave of shock washing over me. Just then, Chloe pushed open the door. She offered me a small box, her voice laced with concern. "I heard your shoulder's been bothering you lately. This massage device might help you relax." This scene was terrifyingly familiar. In my previous life, I truly believed I was the luckiest person alive. My sister, Victoria, had always cared for me with unwavering devotion. Chloe, my childhood friend, was more like family than mere kin. But this rebirth… it had chilled me to the bone. In that former life, when the National Online Fiction Competition submission that bore my name turned out to be identical to Cassius Blackwood's, the judges immediately took notice. As an author with multiple accolades, I'd had every hope of clinching first place. But with that scandal, I was plunged into a maelstrom of public outcry. I desperately reached out to Victoria, my editor and the one who provided my writing inspiration, and to Chloe, my ever-present childhood friend, begging them to clarify the truth. To my horror, they refused. My sister, Victoria, even issued an apology statement without my consent, pleading with the competition organizers to show leniency, given my "tender age," and grant me a chance to atone. The internet exploded. "No wonder he dared to plagiarize in such a huge competition! Turns out he has an editor for a sister to cover his tracks. The whole family's rotten to the core!" "Exactly! An apology and he gets a second chance? Who are they kidding? If apologies fixed everything, what would we need the police for?" "Still 'tender age'? He's at least eighteen, isn't he? If he wants to be a man-child, he can stay home and be one. Don't come out here and disgust people!" Under the immense pressure of public opinion, the competition organizers rejected Victoria's plea. The truth was, I’d entered that competition for the first-place prize money of thirty thousand dollars. Victoria had lost her voice due to an illness, unable to utter a sound. I wanted that money to pay for her vocal cord restoration surgery. Yet, after the competition, not only did I fail to win the prize, I was slapped with crippling breach-of-contract penalties. Meanwhile, Cassius Blackwood, with no prior writing experience, inexplicably won first place. His competition entry was hailed as the most outstanding short story in years, even bought by a film studio and slated for adaptation. Just like that, he became an overnight sensation, a literary golden boy. And I, became a reviled plagiarist. The plagiarism scandal's devastating impact led to my expulsion from university. To pay the astronomical fines, I, without a degree, resorted to working as a delivery driver. But when customers recognized me, they deliberately gave me poor reviews, nullifying a day's hard work. My mother, desperate to clear my name, ran herself ragged, only to be cyberbullied until she fell ill overnight and ended up in the ICU. To cover the exorbitant medical bills, I took a job hauling cement at a construction site. After only a few days, the foreman fired me, withholding all my wages. Then, the hospital called. They told me my mother's condition was deteriorating, and I should prepare myself. That final thread of hope snapped. I completely lost the will to live. One late night, I climbed to the hospital rooftop and leapt. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back exactly one week before the writing competition. Looking at my sister and childhood friend, who were so meticulously caring for me, my heart felt a strange, cold mix of emotions. "Ethan, this is some writing material I got through internal channels. If you follow this, you're guaranteed to win first place." Victoria signed, placing a file before me. Chloe chuckled playfully. "Ethan, you have to get first place! I'm counting on your prize money to treat us to a lavish meal!" I knew she was joking, but I couldn't bring myself to smile. Victoria was my own sister; she couldn't possibly betray me. And Chloe, my childhood friend, sharp-tongued perhaps, but always fiercely protective. So, it couldn't be them. What on earth was going wrong? In elementary school, I'd won first prize in a children's writing competition. Later, in college, I frequently published stories in literary magazines. My beloved Professor Caldwell always said my skill made winning this competition a walk in the park. So, when the plagiarism scandal broke, he believed in me. What's more, my serialized novel had been published and sold well. There was no reason for me to copy Cassius. Just then, Cassius suddenly released screenshots showing the submission times for our entries. His was dated an hour before mine. And a week before the competition, he'd posted his writing inspiration and novel outline on his social media. Instantly, the internet's curses threatened to drown me. "It must be Ethan who copied Cassius, the evidence is undeniable, yet he still tries to argue!" "I heard Ethan even published a book before, it must have been plagiarized too, just never caught!" "Good thing his own sister and childhood friend had a change of heart and didn't shield him, otherwise, the original creator would have been unjustly ruined." The discussion spiraled, trending across all platforms. The competition organizers, taking it seriously, immediately verified the evidence Cassius presented. After careful review, all evidence was deemed authentic, with no signs of manipulation. Their final conclusion: I had plagiarized Cassius. I was stunned. That competition entry, I'd written it based on the inspiration my sister gave me. How could it be plagiarism? But I had no evidence to prove my innocence. And I couldn't understand why Cassius's entry would be identical to mine. Had my sister given Cassius the same material? Yet, Victoria and Chloe seemed utterly normal. I had to start with Cassius's social media. By my calculations, he should have already shared his novel inspiration and outline. But with someone constantly watching me, I quickly jotted down a superficial outline to appease them. Then, feigning a sudden stomachache, I claimed I needed to use the restroom. A flicker of annoyance crossed Chloe's eyes. "Always so high-maintenance, aren't you? Victoria has already given you the inspiration and material, and you're still trying to slack off!" Victoria quickly signed, attempting to smooth things over. "The competition is still a week away. Don't rush Ethan; there's still plenty of time. If he follows my advice, he's guaranteed to win first place!" But the time I had to uncover the truth was running out. I locked myself in the restroom and immediately opened Cassius's social media. I'd heard his father was a senior executive at a major corporation and his mother a university professor. He had many followers because of his good looks. But I didn't know him well. However, Victoria's job required her to interact with Cassius's mother, so they must have known each other. Once, I’d overheard her signing to Chloe, saying Cassius was sophisticated and refined, unlike me, a total bumpkin. She even told Chloe that she should find a husband like Cassius – handsome and from a good family. I'd thought she was joking. Now, it all sounded like the honest truth. But I simply couldn't fathom why someone like Cassius, a wealthy, handsome socialite, would want to harm me. Just then, I found his latest post. It was where he’d shared his writing inspiration and novel outline. I stared, stunned. Wasn't this the exact same material Victoria had just given me? Even his novel outline was identical to the one I'd just casually jotted down. The comments section was full of praise: "Such a unique novel structure! First time I've seen something like this. The online fiction world is finally saved!" "Seriously, start writing, blogger! I have a feeling you're guaranteed to win first place!" An accidental clash of inspiration was understandable. But why was his novel outline also identical to mine? Only Victoria and Chloe had been in my study. Could it really be them? A chill ran down my spine. But why would they do this? Could blood ties and years of friendship truly be worth less than Cassius, someone they barely knew? I stayed in the restroom for an hour, making a bold decision. In my previous life, my competition entry had been in the fantasy genre, my strongest suit. Although I'd won first place, it had felt like old wine in a new bottle, lacking true innovation. This time, I decided to write a mystery thriller. If they claimed I plagiarized last time, I would write something entirely new. Whatever the outcome, at least it would clear my name. That would be enough. Tossing and turning all night, unable to sleep due to the last-minute genre change, I quietly slipped out early the next morning and went to Professor Caldwell’s house. He was my mentor, the first person who ever encouraged me to write. He had placed great hopes on me for this competition. Seeing me, he beamed, pressing a steaming pastry into my hand. "Ethan, you haven't had breakfast yet, have you?" Noticing my troubled expression, he quickly asked, "Is something wrong? Tell your old professor." I forced a smile. "Professor, if I don't win first place in this competition, will you be very disappointed?" Professor Caldwell ruffled my hair, smiling gently. "It doesn't matter if you don't win first place. I know your abilities. You can always try harder next time. As long as you're happy, that's what's most important." His words solidified my resolve. After leaving his house, I received a message from Victoria. "Ethan, where did you run off to? Chloe brought you breakfast, couldn't find you, and she's furious." I replied, "Went out to buy some writing materials. Heading back now." I didn't plan to use the inspiration and material Victoria had given me. Nor did I tell her or Chloe about changing my competition genre. After all, they were the prime suspects. I decided to head to the university library to re-outline my competition entry. I stayed there until nightfall, finally finishing my novel outline. I stretched, ready for a break, and decided to check Cassius's social media. Unexpectedly, Victoria and Chloe showed up. I was confused; how did they know I was here? Victoria then placed a steaming lunchbox on the table, signing, "Afraid you'd forget to eat while writing, so I brought you some food." Chloe handed me a thermos. "This is chicken broth I simmered all afternoon, to help you recover." They both looked so sincere. They didn't seem like people who would stab me in the back. Had I been overthinking things? But if not them, then who? My mind a jumble, I managed a strained smile. "You two came at the perfect time. I'm starving. I'll just wash my hands and dig in." With my phone in hand, I headed to the restroom. I didn't go into the men's room but opened Cassius's social media by the sinks. He had indeed posted a new update. "How can someone be so shameless? I kindly shared my inspiration and outline, and someone just took it without permission? What's the difference between that and a thief? No choice but to rewrite it now." The post included a photo of a guy studying in the library, his back to the camera. Anyone who knew me would recognize it as me. But who took the picture? The comments section had fans worrying about Cassius, asking if he'd have enough time to rewrite his entry. Cassius replied that he planned to write a mystery thriller this time, and had already outlined it. A jolt went through me. I hadn't told anyone about changing genres. Why had our chosen genres clashed again? There had to be a spy close to me. Was it Victoria or Chloe? But what could they possibly gain from this? Just then, someone tapped my shoulder. "Ethan, what are you spacing out about?" I jumped, startled. It was Victoria and Chloe. They'd come looking for me when I didn't return. Still shaken, my eyes darted nervously. "Sis, why don't you two go back first? I'll eat later." I wondered if they'd seen me scrolling through Cassius's post. The words had barely left my mouth when Chloe exploded. "Ethan, Victoria and I brought you food out of kindness, and that's your attitude? Don't think I haven't noticed, you've been avoiding us these past few days. You really are an ungrateful wretch!" Victoria quickly pulled her back, signing, "Chloe has a sharp tongue but a kind heart. Don't take her words to heart. We were just worried you were overworking yourself." I quickly replied, "Sis, I know what I'm doing. If it's too much trouble, I'll just stay in the dorms these next few days, so you two don't have to worry." Chloe scoffed. "Whatever. I can't be bothered with you!" With that, she dragged Victoria out of the study room. I finally breathed a sigh of relief.
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