Chapter 1 My roommate's shirt was always soaked during freshman orientation, and it always smelled faintly of sweet peach. Seeing every guy on campus—even the wealthy class president—go wild for it, my roommate, Brooke, was thrilled. I recognized it immediately: it was the discharge from a rare form of skin cancer. I urged her to get medical help fast. My roommate called me jealous, but, uneasy, she secretly checked it out. The result was cancer. She had to undergo a double mastectomy to save her life. Without the "peach scent," the rich class president, Brandon, who was obsessed with her, never looked at her again. Her entire cohort of admirers vanished. My roommate couldn't handle the fall from grace. She blamed it all on me. "If you hadn't been nosy, making your mom cut off my breasts, Brandon never would have dumped me!" She shoved me into a septic ditch and drowned me alive, laughing hysterically. Even my mother, the surgical expert who performed her operation, was dragged through a social media smear campaign, fired from the hospital, and died of depression. I opened my eyes, finding myself back on the exact day my roommate's "peach scent" first became known. ... "What is that smell? It's amazing!" My roommate, Brooke Scott, walked into the dorm carrying a bag of snacks. She inhaled deeply, her eyes wide with excitement. "Is that a peach perfume? Or a new energy drink?" Then, she spotted the open yogurt bottle on Layla’s desk. "Smells delicious! Let me try some first!" Before Layla could say yes, Brooke grabbed the bottle and gulped down a huge mouthful. The next second, the expression on her face froze. She bent over, retching violently. "What the hell is this?! It tastes awful!" Layla rolled her eyes and muttered, "Some people wish they had some!" Brooke’s face went pale. "Layla! Are you trying to poison me?!" "If I die, I'm taking you with me!" She rushed to the bathroom, desperately trying to gag herself. Watching this familiar scene unfold, I confirmed that I had indeed been reborn. The suffocating sensation of drowning in the putrid water in my past life felt terrifyingly close. "Patrice! It’s all your fault, you jinx! If you hadn't interfered, making your mom cut off my breasts, Brandon never would have left me! All those guys wouldn't have avoided me!" "You ruined my chance at a rich life! You deserve to die!" The person who killed me was my roommate, Layla Reed. In my past life, I recognized that the liquid oozing from her chest, which all the boys on campus went crazy for, wasn't some kind of innate body fragrance. It was the discharge from an extremely rare, aggressive form of breast cancer! I urged her to seek treatment immediately and had my mother, a surgical specialist, take care of her. She called me jealous but secretly went for a checkup. She was diagnosed with cancer and had to have a double mastectomy to survive. Once her 'peach milk' scent was gone, the rich class president, Brandon Hayes, who had been madly obsessed with her, immediately dumped her. All the guys who had hovered around her vanished without a trace. She blamed me for all of her failures and resentment. She stubbornly believed that I was jealous of the attention she got from Brandon and that I conspired with my mother to intentionally remove the source of her charm. But I'm back. I've returned to the exact moment her peach-scented secret was first discovered, triggering a dorm conflict. In my last life, seeing Brooke accidentally drink the "peach milk" and throw up violently. I rushed over to hold her, demanding that Layla take her to the hospital immediately, genuinely worried Brooke had been poisoned by an unknown substance. I never imagined my concern would plant a seed of hatred in Layla. And when the truth came out about her cancer, Brooke never spoke up for me once. She joined the keyboard warriors, kicking me while I was down. A cold laugh escaped me. I spoke up. "Brooke, what's with the attitude? Layla didn't do it on purpose." "Besides, who told you to be a greedy pig and drink it without asking?" Chapter 2 Brooke froze, looking at me in disbelief. "She leaves this disgusting mess on the table and makes me drink it! And you're defending her?!" "Patrice, are you crazy?" I smiled. "Brooke, you can't talk like that. Layla said it was an accident. And anyway," I paused, glancing at Layla's chest, "this peach-scented body fragrance is something many people would kill for. It's certainly better than some people's sweaty stench, right?" Layla saw me take her side, and her eyes lit up. "Exactly! I didn't mean to! Patrice is right, this smell is lovely!" "I think you're just jealous of me, Brooke!" She rolled her eyes spitefully at Brooke. Brooke was completely enraged. She pointed at Layla and me. "You... you..." she stammered for a long time, unable to form a coherent curse. Finally, she stomped her foot and stormed out, covered in vomit. Seeing Brooke leave, Layla smirked and pulled something out from the back of her closet. My pupils narrowed. It was that light pink bra. It was lace-trimmed, with a slightly sexy design. I'd bought it online during my freshman year, looking for a bargain. I quickly found the underwire dug painfully and the straps were too thin. I tossed it to the bottom of my drawer and never touched it again. Now, it was in Layla's hands. And there was a small, unmistakable pink stain on it! When I discovered this in my past life, I was sickened and confronted her, demanding why she stole my things. That fight became one of the reasons she later decided to kill me. This time, seeing her hold up the bra, she asked me coyly, "Patrice, I want to take a few photos wearing this bra and post them in the freshman group chat. What do you think?" I immediately put on the most genuine smile, exaggeratedly praising it. "That bra is perfect for you! The color, the design—it's tailor-made for your style! It's sexy but still innocent!" "It really highlights your best assets! If Brandon sees it, he'll be completely hooked!" I knew she wanted to use this to attract more male attention. In my last life, she blamed me for ruining her dating prospects. In this life, I would ensure she got exactly what she wished for. Layla's face flushed with excitement. "Really, Patrice? You think it looks good?" "Of course!" I nodded emphatically, decisive and convincing. At that moment, our other neutral roommate, Jen Wu, suddenly spoke up. "Patrice, why does that bra look like yours? Didn't you say it was uncomfortable and put it away?" "Did Layla steal it?" Layla's smile froze instantly. I quickly put on a sincere expression, covering for Layla. "Oh! That one! It does look similar, but mine was such cheap quality; I don't know where I threw it. " "The one Layla has looks much higher quality than mine! Besides, if Layla likes it, what's the big deal if I give it to her? Good things should go to the person who suits them best, right?" The alarm in Layla's eyes instantly turned into wild joy. She seized the opportunity, lifting her chin at Jen. "Exactly! Jen, what are you talking about? Patrice said it's a gift!" "Besides, this bra has a big cup size. Patrice could never fill it out." "If you talk nonsense again, you'll regret it!" Layla rushed into the bathroom to try it on, desperate to prove Jen wrong. As she closed the door, I quickly started packing my things, planning to move out immediately. The peach-milk scent in the dorm was sickly sweet. It made me nauseous. If I stayed any longer, I'd definitely be implicated. I hadn't even finished packing when Layla discovered me. Chapter 3 "Lana? What are you doing? You're not moving out, are you?" Layla yanked open the bathroom door, half-emerging. She had indeed changed into the cheap underwear. The low-quality lace strained to contain her noticeably swollen chest. The straps were pitifully thin, digging into her flesh. The pink spots below her collarbone seemed more obvious under the light, like a small, spreading patch of mold. A barely perceptible tension was on her face. She was probably afraid her only ally was abandoning her. I stopped packing, my eyes shifting. I put on a look of professional awkwardness. "Well, I have a rare skin condition. It's not serious, but I can't risk passing it to you guys in a crowded dorm..." Layla instinctively stepped back. The tension on her face instantly shifted to alarm. "A skin condition?" "Yes," I sighed, looking genuinely helpless. "But if you don't mind, I don't have to move out..." Layla quickly interrupted me. Though she pretended to be concerned, her tone screamed get out now. "Oh, you should definitely move out! Go back when you're cured! A skin condition is serious! Your health comes first! We'll wait for you!" I sneered inwardly. The truly sick one was standing there in stolen underwear, dreaming of seducing a rich boy. Before leaving with my luggage, I pretended to be gossipy, leaning in toward Layla, who was posing provocatively for a selfie. "Oh, by the way, I heard Brandon is planning something big!" Layla's eyes lit up. "What? Tell me, tell me!" Jen also leaned in. I decided to keep them in suspense, saying slowly, "The guys in the dorm were talking. Brandon apparently ordered nine thousand roses! He's going to propose to a girl!" "I bet the goddess is right here with us. After all, anyone who warrants that kind of spectacle has to have something particularly appealing, right?" I deliberately glanced at Layla's swollen chest. Layla's face turned crimson with excitement. She covered her mouth, her voice trembling. "Really?! Nine thousand roses?! Oh my God! It has to be for me!" "Patrice, you're my good luck charm! I need to get ready now! I'm going to be the dazzling main character tonight!" She rushed to her closet, frantically searching for the perfect outfit. "Which one? This one's too plain. This one doesn't show off my figure enough. Ah! This sheer one! Paired with the bra Patrice gifted me, Brandon will definitely..." Watching her excited back, Jen gave a look of undisguised contempt, her fingers flying across her phone screen. The next second, my phone vibrated. "Are you serious? Brandon is proposing to her? With nine thousand roses? Who are you kidding? Her? The weirdo with that gross disease and whatever's leaking out of her? Is Brandon blind?" I replied quietly. "Who knows? A crazy rich kid with a bizarre obsession and a weirdo with 'peach milk'—they sound like a match made in heaven. Two of a kind. Let's watch the show!" I was eager to see if, this time, without my interference, she could actually realize her dream and snag a rich boy. Chapter 4 The school's main plaza was already packed by evening. Brandon Hayes, wearing a well-tailored white suit, walked toward Layla, who stood in a sea of flowers, holding a huge bouquet of red roses. Layla had definitely taken my advice. She wore a nearly transparent black lace camisole, with my low-quality lace bra underneath! I couldn't tell if it was my imagination, but her face looked flushed, almost sickly. She was walking strangely, occasionally holding her chest, as if enduring some discomfort. The crowd roared in excitement. "Nine thousand roses! So romantic!" "Layla looks so hot tonight! Brandon is gorgeous!" Hearing the praise, Layla's face was beaming. The pain seemed to lessen. She tilted her chin up, waiting for Brandon to approach, ready for her spotlight moment. But the obsession and eagerness on Brandon's face froze the moment he got close to her. He smelled it. The stench emanating from Layla—a mix of sickly sweet and rotten—was nothing like the previous "peach scent." It made sense; Layla's condition was much worse now. And with the high temperature, how could she still smell like a mild, early-stage infection? She was actively rotting. Brandon's facial muscles twitched. He instinctively stepped back, covering his nose. His voice held a barely concealed disgust. "What is that smell?" Layla's smile instantly froze. She instinctively covered the increasingly dark and widespread pink stain on her chest. "I... Brandon, let me explain..." But before she could finish, something erupted from her chest. Followed by a ripping sound. The cheap, strained lace bra suddenly split open. The two bulging mounds, covered in large, dark red patches and visible subcutaneous veins, were violently exposed to everyone! Countless eyes shifted from curious envy to shock and disbelief, finally settling on a look of indescribable horror, mixed with disgust and fear! Then, under everyone's horrified gaze, the infected areas—several extremely swollen, translucent pustules at the center of the dark red skin—began to burst sequentially! A large stream of pinkish-white fluid, mixed with clumps of pus and blood, and carrying a nauseating, potent odor of decay, violently sprayed out! The primary target was Brandon, standing closest to her! He was completely drenched, head to toe, in the scalding, foul-smelling, decaying pus! A few drops even splashed into his widely agape mouth. Brandon froze on the spot.
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