My superior, who attains his position through connections, turns out to be the high school heartthrob I once pursued—Jack Montgomery.

Back then, I gave up on studying literature despite being good at it to study science instead. As a result, my grade point average dropped from 3.9 to 2.1, and I ended up attending a community college.

Jack, on the other hand, earned a Master's degree in business in Ezelia. He became the director of the investment management department at a company upon his return.

He mocks me for being a lovesick fool who chose to study science for his sake and now has to work for him.

His words successfully provoke me into action. I work as a low-level analyst while staying up late every day to prepare for the Graduate Management Admission Test. I plan to turn my life around with this, but I end up dropping dead from overwork.

When I open my eyes again, I'm back at the critical moment of course selection in my sophomore year.

This time, I decisively choose to study literature and kick that scumbag, Jack, aside. "Nobody is allowed to hinder my studies!"

He claims that I'm playing hard to get, and all I think is that he's ill in the head.

Let's see who gets the last laugh when I make it into the prestigious Hareford University!

Before being reborn, I gave up on my future to pursue the affections of the most popular young man in high school. I ended up working as a corporate slave for him, and his humiliation of me led to my death.

After my rebirth, I wanted to make that scumbag apologize to me a hundred times in Clock Square.

I used to be a lovesick fool who would even forsake my future for the sake of love.

In my sophomore year of high school, I gave up on getting guaranteed high scores in literature and history. Instead, I chose to study physics and calculus to win the affections of Jack Montgomery, my high school's heartthrob.

In the end, attending physics class felt like listening to a foreign language to me. While the teacher spoke passionately from the podium, I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles.

The laws of motion? Quantum theory? Electromagnetic field theory?

I had no idea what any of those were.

It only took one semester for me to go from being in the top 50 in my grade to below 300th place.

It was inevitable that I would fail terribly when applying to a university. I ended up attending a community college—the kind of place one simply needed to pay to get into.

On the other hand, Jack relied on his family connections to attend a top business university in Ezelia. With such an impressive university on his resume, he returned from abroad to become a corporate executive.

The most outrageous thing to happen was that he became my direct superior.

During the welcome reception for the new executive, I wanted nothing more than to hide myself in the bathroom. Yet, the inevitable would happen eventually.

Jack walked over to me with a glass of champagne in hand, a familiar expression of mocking on his face. "Hey, Emma. I heard that you were boasting about wanting to get into Hareford University back in high school."

Someone next to me immediately said loudly, "Community college is also a form of university!"

Harsh laughter erupted throughout the reception hall.

Jack slowly swirled his champagne glass. "Are you now feeling the consequences of being a lovesick fool? Why didn't this cross your mind back when you were running after me all the time?"

I clenched my fists tightly, feeling my nails dig into my palms.

He continued relentlessly, "By the way, what did you score for your SATs again? 980 points? Oh, no, it was 950 points. You need 1600 points to score full marks, yet you didn't even get 1000 points. You were among the bottom 25% of candidates."

I stood up. "Enough."

Jack's smile widened. "What's wrong? Did I hit a sore spot? Just face reality, Emma. Someone like you will always be a bottom feeder. You should be honored to work for me."

I took a deep breath. Just as I was about to reply, my phone started vibrating wildly. The WhatsApp group chat consisting of my high school classmates was exploding with messages.

"Oh my god! Is the new employee in Jack's company really Emma?"

"That clinger? Oh, that's hilarious! She's really working for him."

"She deserves it for setting her sights on someone far out of her league."

"Allowing yourself to be blinded by love will only ruin you. Hahaha!"

I left the group chat expressionlessly.

…

Late that night, I dragged my exhausted body back to my cramped studio apartment.

My desk was piled high with study materials for the Graduate Management Admission Test—my last resort. As long as I managed to get into a business university and obtained a Master's degree in business, I'd be able to turn my life around.

The papers were covered in densely written mathematical equations. I'd truly ruined my mathematical foundation by choosing to pursue science back then. After downing my fifth espresso, I continued to study hard.

At 3:00 am, I suddenly felt severe pain in my heart. My pen clattered to the floor, and my vision turned black.

Fuck! God was really pulling my leg by making me die of overwork halfway through my GMATs.

A shrill scream woke me up. "F in physics! E- in chemistry! F in Borisian! F in mathematics!"

When my eyes snapped open, my furious mother—Mary Seymour—was standing in front of me, holding my crumpled report card in her hand.

"You came in second to last in your class! Are you purposely trying to make me angry, Emma? I spent so much money to send you to Riveria High School, yet you're scoring this kind of grade!"

Wait. Riveria High School?

I looked around blankly. Lavender curtains, a calendar counting down the days until the SATs, a periodic table of elements pasted on the wall…

Had I returned to my sophomore year in high school?

"Mom?" I asked shakily.

Mom roared furiously, "Don't call me that! I don't have a shameful daughter like you! You didn't listen when I told you to study literature and history! Instead, you insisted on choosing physics and chemistry!

"And look at you now! Second to last! If not for the fact that there was someone who came in last place, you'd be the worst in your class!"

Tears immediately welled up in my eyes. I hugged Mom and exclaimed, "I'm sorry, Mom! I was wrong! I was really wrong!"

I grew up in a single-parent family. Mom placed all her expectations on me from a young age, which resulted in a very tense relationship between us.

The three things I hated hearing most were, "Everything I do is for your sake", "Study hard for a better future", and "Can you please do something that'll make me proud of you for once"?

I just wanted to enjoy a wonderful youth and engage in a spectacular romance with the school heartthrob! I wanted to marry a wealthy heir and thus reach the pinnacle of success!

So, the stricter Mom was with me, the more rebellious I became.

In order to fit into Jack's social circle, I skipped classes, attended parties, drank alcohol, and smoked weed. I became a delinquent.

In the end, everyone else had backup plans except me.

When I entered society, not even Moonbucks Cafe was willing to hire me without a good academic resume. The so-called slogan to "follow your dreams" was nothing more than empty words.

Although academic qualifications certainly weren't the only criterion by which people evaluated a person's success, they were the most precious resource children of immigrant families had to turn their lives around. By the time I understood that principle, it was far too late.

I had no choice but to serve tables at a restaurant, working day and night for an hourly wage of only seven dollars and 25 cents.

Mom was stunned. "Did you wake up on the wrong side of bed?"

"I want to transfer to a literature course. Science really isn't for me—I can understand neither physics nor chemistry. Please, Mom. Please let me transfer to a liberal arts course."

"Didn't you want to be in the same glass as that student named Jack?"

I gritted my teeth. "He's nothing! From today onward, nobody is allowed to hinder my studies!"

Mom observed me suspiciously for a long time before finally nodding. "Alright. I'll see your school counselor tomorrow."

The next day, the counselor in the academic counseling office—Amos Glassfield—pushed his glasses up his nose and asked, "So, you want to transfer to a literature course? Alright. However, you'll only be able to transfer if you score a grade of B or above for the liberal arts proficiency test."

I nodded. "I know."

After exiting the office, I clenched my fists tightly. It'd been so many years since I graduated from high school that I'd forgotten all about literary analysis. Still, I had to seize the opportunity this time.

The news of my course transfer spread quickly, and Jack intercepted me just as I stepped into the classroom.

He frowned at me in displeasure. "What the heck are you up to, Emma?"

Sarah Wellston, who was next to him, added passive-aggressively, "You don't get it, Jack. She's playing hard to get."

Jack sneered. "Drop the act. Do you think you can turn the tables by transferring to a liberal arts class? Dream on. A loser will always be a loser."

I stood up slowly. The entire class had their eyes on me.

I said slowly and clearly, "Who do you think you are, Jack?"

Silence instantly fell upon the classroom.

Jack's face reddened with anger. "What did you say?"

I picked up the report card from his desk. "You scored an E in physics—just one grade higher than me—and a D- in math, a D+ in chemistry, and an F in Borisian. With grades like these, you wouldn't even be able to get into a state university without your father's backing."

"You're asking for it!" yelled Jack.

I threw the report card in his face. "Are you mad? Do you know what the biggest difference between us is? I'm a temporary loser while you're eternal trash. You're nothing without your father's money.

"I'll be able to get into a Vine League university in one year! You, on the other hand, will only be able to spend money to buy a degree abroad in Ezelia."

I then leaned closer to him and continued word by word, "Remember what I said today, Jack. One day, I'm going to make you kneel down and beg me."

The entire class was silent. Some of them quietly took out their phones to record us.

Sarah restrained a furious Jack and said placatingly, "Don't be reckless. She's deliberately provoking you."

I turned to her. "By the way, Sarah, you scored an A in physics, right? How amazing. It's a pity that solving equations is all you know.

"Did you know that someone like you is nothing but a spare tire in Jack's eyes? He's going to look for a wealthy nobleman's daughter to marry in the future. You're at most a tool to him."

I stared into her eyes. "Also, don't say bad things about people behind their backs. The next time I hear you doing that, I won't mind letting the whole school know that you were expelled for having an affair with the coach during summer camp last year."

Sarah paled instantly.

As I turned to leave, I heard the sound of tables and chairs crashing to the floor and Jack's outraged bellow.

I smiled. Everyone who looked down on me should just wait and see—the day I got into Hareford University would be the day they got on their knees and begged me for forgiveness.

As for me, I'd step on them on my way to the peak.

I took three weeks of sick leave and locked myself in my room. Mom assumed that something had set me off, and knocked on my door after some time.

"How about we just call off the transfer, honey?"

I didn't even lift my head. "Give me three days' time, Mom. In three days, I'm going to shut everyone up."

I'd long forgotten all the knowledge I'd learned in high school, but fortunately, my foundations were still solid.

I spread out texts on Amerasian and Borisian literature, as well as some writing guides. Then, I used the Lakernel note-taking method to reorganize the key points. The study methods I'd picked up while preparing for my GMATs were now coming in handy.

Literary analysis was the simplest—I created an outline for theme, symbolism, and character development in one night.

Essay-writing, on the other hand, was a little troublesome. I read up on the structure of argumentative essays and rhetorical devices while practicing my writing.

Critical reading skills were practically at my fingertips—those analytical skills were much easier to get the hang of than GMAT reading comprehension.

As for history, well, Amerasian history was nothing much. Ezelian history was slightly more complicated but not too challenging to grasp either.

Although mathematics wasn't my strong suit, scoring a B was no problem at all.

Three days later, I was sitting in the exam hall, unable to keep the smile off my face as I looked at the liberal arts proficiency test paper.

Was this it?

Two weeks later, the results were announced. I not only scored a B but an A- grade, and even Amos looked at me in a different light.

"What exactly have you been up to in the past two weeks, Emma?" he asked.

"Studying," I replied matter-of-factly. "What else?"

The transfer process went very smoothly. When I returned to my science class to collect my things, the entire class watched with interest.

Jack leaned against my desk and commented in a passive-aggressive manner, "Well? Are you really going to leave? You'd better not come crying back to me when you end up at the bottom of the rankings in the liberal arts class."

I stopped what I was doing and turned around slowly. "Do you perhaps lack volume in your vocabulary, Jack? Do you know any terms other than 'loser' and 'bottom?' Do you want me to recommend a mobile app to you?"

I picked up my phone. "Look. This is a thesaurus. 'Trash', 'garbage', 'idiot', 'brainless'—these are terms that can all be used to describe you. Don't always repeat the same two words. You'll only look uncultured."

The whole class burst into laughter.

Jack's face turned bright red. "Emma!"

Then, I pretended to remember something. "Oh, by the way, I heard that your father's been getting in touch with his connections lately. I recall something about him wanting to send you to Swairoo?

"What's wrong? Is even Ezelia unwilling to accept a terrible student like you?"

This was a fact I learned in my previous life. Jack's grades were so poor that he couldn't even gain admittance into a third-rate university. In the end, he could only get himself a diploma in Swairoo to scrape by.

Jack's expression changed instantly. "What nonsense are you spouting?"

I smiled. "Nonsense? Is it? Do you want to make a bet? Let's bet on whether you'll be able to score 1200 points on your SATs. Whoever loses will have to bark like a dog over the school broadcast."

"You—"

I arched an eyebrow. "Are you too much of a chicken to take the bet? I suppose that's true. With these grades of yours, you'll only lose even if you go ahead with the bet."

Sarah tugged on Jack's arm. "Don't fall for her trap, Jack."

I looked at her. "I heard that your physics exam scores have been dropping lately, Sarah. You went from third-place to tenth-place in class, didn't you? Are you already flagging that quickly?"

I clicked my tongue.

Sarah's face turned pale. "What does that have to do with you?"

I slowly packed up my books as I replied, "Nothing. I just wanted to remind you not to stare at others all day. Where do you get the nerve to mock others when you can't even maintain your own grades?"

As I walked to the door, I turned to look back at her and Jack. "Also, don't play petty tricks on Instagram next time. Otherwise, don't blame me for what happens next. Apart from you guys, who else would resort to unsophisticated methods like making anonymous posts?"

I promptly left without looking back.

The sound of objects being smashed rang out from behind me.

I laughed inwardly. That felt great!

After transferring to the liberal arts class, I put all my focus into studying.

I would get up at 5:00 am every day to memorize terms and only go to bed at midnight. My current body was young and healthy, so I wasn't afraid of pulling all-nighters.

In the first monthly exam, I placed 35th in my class and 89th in my grade.

Although the results were nothing to boast about, they were pretty good for a student who'd just transferred classes.