My roommate hasn't showered in years. As a result, she evolved a single, magnificent armpit hair. Whenever she sweats, this hair emits a bizarre scent of lychees. She calls it her "Pit-Pourri." Every time she raises her arm, that scent aggressively invades our nostrils, dominating the room. As the lychee smell grew stronger, it started to sting the eyes, smelling less like fruit and more like rotting bleach. I couldn't take it anymore. One night, while she was asleep, I snuck over and scrubbed her armpit clean. When she woke up and realized what I’d done, she went feral. In a fit of rage, she plucked out the hair and stabbed it directly into my nostril. I literally choked to death on an armpit hair. "If it weren't for you, I would have married my billionaire CEO!" she screamed as I died. That’s when I learned the truth: My roommate was in an online relationship with a billionaire who had a fetish for lychee scents. He promised that if she could go forty-nine months without showering to crystallize the "essence," he would marry her in the wedding of the century. Then, I opened my eyes. I was reborn. Seeing my roommate once again lost in her delusion of dating a billionaire, I decided to take a different approach this time. I’m going to sit back, relax, and watch that hair grow. 1 "Holy crap, what is happening? You guys, look at this hair!" The moment I opened my eyes, a piercing shriek rattled my brain. The terror of being stabbed to death in my past life surged back instantly. Who would have thought an armpit hair could be a murder weapon? I blinked, realizing I was back. Tiffany was standing in the middle of the dorm room, making a scene. She excitedly raised her arm, showing off a thick, solitary hair sprouting from her pit. "Pay attention to me! I suddenly grew a heart-shaped hair! It's long and thick!" "If you don't look now, you might miss the miracle!" Ashley, who was usually Tiffany’s little minion, laughed. "Is that hair for my eyes only, or is it a public exhibit?" Ashley looked up, and her line of sight went straight into Tiffany’s exposed armpit. Her face turned green instantly. "Tiffany! Are you sick? Why are you showing us that? It’s body hair, not a diamond ring! What’s next, showing us a hemorrhoid?" Ashley was crude, but she wasn't wrong. Tiffany pouted, looking wronged. "It's different! My armpit hair isn't like other girls' armpit hair! You guys have no artistic taste." She paused, her expression turning serious as she scanned the room. "Looking at it... I feel something strange in my heart." "I feel... a sudden urge to smell it." Before Ashley, Brittany, and I could react, Tiffany buried her nose deep into her own armpit and inhaled like a vacuum cleaner. "Oh my god!!" She lifted her head, eyes sparkling. "It’s lychee! My armpit smells like fresh lychees! You guys have to smell this!" 2 The three of us collectively gagged. "Jesus," Brittany covered her nose, backing away. "That is foul." Seeing that no one wanted a whiff, Tiffany rolled her eyes. "Ugh! None of you have any class!" "It smells like lychee! This is a gift from the universe. This must be the legendary... Ambrosia of the Pits!" Hearing those words again triggered my PTSD. I gritted my teeth. In my past life, when Tiffany discovered her sweat smelled like fruit, she went manic, forcing us to smell it to prove she wasn't crazy. Back then, I had stormed out, claiming I needed to buy groceries just to escape. Because let’s be real: shit that smells like chocolate is still shit. Later, I found out she really had grown a magic hair. All sweat filtered through that heart-shaped follicle turned into lychee scent. The thicker the hair grew, the stronger the scent. Combined with the "no showering" buff, the sweat fermented into a "premium" extract. My roommates pretended to be impressed to her face, but behind her back, they were just as disgusted as I was. "It's so gross. How can someone not shower for that long? Her sheets are turning yellow." "The smell is everywhere. It’s suffocating." "Chloe, you sleep across from her. How do you stand it?" "You're the dorm leader. You have to do something!" In my past life, they egged me on. I fought the nausea, scrubbed the pit, and got stabbed for my trouble. I realized too late that they knew about the billionaire. They just wanted the smell gone but didn't want to be the ones to ruin Tiffany’s shot at wealth. So they used me as the sacrificial lamb. 3 Reborn and wiser, I looked at Tiffany—drowning in her narcissism—and my two two-faced roommates. A cold hatred bloomed in my chest. Just then, Tiffany’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen and immediately switched to her "baby voice." "Hiiiii baby! I missed you so much!" "Oh, guess what? I grew a heart-shaped hair! And get this... it smells like lychees! It’s so kawaii, right?" I swear, in two lifetimes, I have never heard a sound that induced more vomiting. The person on the other end was undoubtedly the billionaire CEO she obsessed over in my past life. I watched coldly as she continued to coo at the phone. Suddenly, she gasped. "Sebastian! Are you serious? If I don't shower for forty-nine months and cultivate the Lychee Crystal Essence, you’ll marry me in a grand ceremony?" Watching her face light up with greed, a plan formed in my mind. Ignore her? No. That’s too easy. This time, I’m going to help her. Tiffany, since you treasure your "Pit-Pourri" so much and want to use it to climb the social ladder, I’ll make sure it thrives. I’ll help it grow thicker, longer, and stronger. I want to see exactly what kind of "CEO" has a kink this specific. I lowered my head to hide my smirk. In this life, I’m going to watch you ferment. 4 "Did you guys hear that? If you treat me well, I’ll make sure you’re all taken care of!" After hanging up, Tiffany strutted around like a peacock. "Sebastian Sterling just promised me! If I persist for forty-nine months without water touching my skin, he’ll marry me! You’ll all be my bridesmaids, and I’ll give you huge red envelopes of cash!" "What? Sebastian Sterling? The tech mogul from the Sterling family?" Ashley’s eyes nearly popped out. Brittany jumped up. "The guy who controls the city's economy with a snap of his fingers?" Tiffany nodded arrogantly. The disgust on their faces instantly morphed into sycophancy. "Oh my god, Tiffany! That’s not an armpit hair, that’s a red string of fate!" Ashley, who had been hiding in the corner, rushed forward and took a deep breath of Tiffany’s pit. "Exquisite! Look at that shine! That thickness! The heart shape! It’s modern art!" Brittany wasn't about to lose. She shoved me aside and stared piously at the hair. "Intoxicating! One sniff clears the mind! Sebastian has such unique taste. Tiffany, you’re basically a Disney princess!" I noticed Tiffany trembling slightly. The smell... was already starting to turn sour. Tiffany looked at me with a victorious smirk. Remembering my death, I didn't hesitate. "Oh my god! Tiffany! You are so lucky! To be chosen by Mr. Sterling? That’s a blessing I couldn't pray for in ten lifetimes! Don't forget me when you're rich." I looked at her armpit with "genuine" concern. "Since it's so valuable, I’ll knit a little wool warmer for your hair! You send me the measurements!" 5 "Chloe!" Tiffany was moved to tears. She rushed over and hugged me, enveloping me in the developing stench. "You’re the best! I’ll measure it now! When I marry into the Sterling family, I’ll buy you a villa!" Ashley and Brittany exchanged panicked looks, realizing I had stolen the spotlight. "Tiffany! Warmth isn't enough!" Ashley shouted. "I know a high-end masseuse. I’ll learn a special technique and massage your armpit hair every day to stimulate the follicles!" "Right! But nutrition is key!" Brittany chimed in. "I’ll get some premium hair growth serum. We need to make sure that in forty-nine months, you are radiating the strongest lychee scent possible. Mr. Sterling will go crazy for you!" With the three of us competing to serve her, Tiffany floated on cloud nine. She could already see herself walking down an aisle paved with lychee skins. She took a deep breath, waving her hand magnanimously. "Good! Good! You are all my best sisters! A villa for everyone!" The wind from her waving arm slapped the smell into every corner of the room. Under our diligent care, the hair grew at a terrifying rate. It got thicker. It got longer. It got so big Tiffany couldn't even close her arm fully. And the scent changed. It went from "faintly sweet" to "sickly, fermented syrup." The dorm room became a biohazard zone. Ashley and Brittany’s smiles began to crack. Especially Ashley—she had volunteered for massage duty. Her face looked like she was attending a funeral every time she touched it. They started finding excuses not to come back to the room.
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