While studying abroad, I move into a shared apartment. Not a single day goes by without my housemate, Stuart Harper, calling himself some variation of a sweet, brave, and responsible guy.

On the very first day he moves in, he hires workers to take out the insulation from the walls. I confront him about it, but he simply grins at me and proudly boasts about his decision.

"That was all just some shoddy foam that the construction workers padded the walls with. Not only was it useless, but it was even taking up so much space. The fact that I forked out my own money to get rid of it proves that I'm such a sweet and responsible guy!"

With a scowl on my face, I explain to Stuart the purpose of having proper insulation. He immediately leans in close with an admiring gaze.

"I'm so sorry. I had no idea! I just wanted to do something nice for us. What should I do now? You have to help me think of something!"

I naively assume Stuart just lacks common sense and doesn't act with malice. Thus, I willingly enter into a cycle of always cleaning up after his messes.

One day, I get a fever. He ends up buying a secondhand electric slow cooker and declares he's going to take care of me by cooking me soup.

My head throbs as I quickly put a stop to his attempt to heat the electric slow cooker on the induction stove. I tell him to let me catch a nap before I teach him how to cook later.

But not long after I fall asleep, he secretly sticks the electric slow cooker into the microwave to heat it up.

The microwave explodes. As the flames start to spread, Stuart screams and dashes out of the apartment at once.

The fire alarm wakes me up. I try to evacuate the burning building, only to find that Stuart has locked the door from the outside. In the end, the fire burns me to a crisp.

After that, however, he starts twisting things around. He goes online and says with a helpless expression, "My housemate set the apartment on fire while cooking. I'm the one who had to call the fire department on his behalf, and I even had to compensate the landlord for him. I'm definitely the sweetest, bravest, and most responsible guy to ever live!"

As the online community proceeds to condemn me, Stuart uses the attention and publicity to go viral as a content creator.

Some time later, my eyes open again. This time, I'm going to roast him good.

I jolted awake when I heard the sound of crashing metal coming from the other side of the door.

The pain of being burned to death was still fresh in my memory. But when I lifted my hand, I saw that my body was completely unharmed. For a moment, I felt dazed.

Had I… been reborn?

I was still in shock, but the constant sound of things being smashed outside interrupted my thoughts. Feeling rather confused, I opened the door—just in time to see the stupid grin on Stuart Harper's face as he ran up to me, eagerly fishing for praise.

"Benny, I'm tearing out that layer of foam! The apartment's way bigger now. I'll let you have half of the extra space."

The horrific memories of my previous life came flooding back at once, and I nearly snorted right at him.

The last time around, I'd put a stop to it immediately and explained to Stuart what insulation was for. But he didn't pay the least bit of attention to what I said, of course. He even asked me if I'd been scammed into believing that.

It wasn't until our landlord, Donald Ferguson, found out about what Stuart had done and tried to kick him out that he panicked. He got on his knees and begged me for help, saying that he was clueless about these things. He claimed he was just trying to do something nice and that he would never make such a mistake again.

Feeling sorry for him, I pleaded with Mr. Ferguson on his behalf. When he claimed his allowance wasn't enough to cover the compensation, I helped him out by paying half of it as well.

Stuart was moved to tears. He said I was his only friend in this world. I figured that it would be nice to have a friend while living abroad. Eventually, we became inseparable.

However, he seriously lacked even the most basic of life skills. I was constantly forced to clean up his messes for him. In time, I got tired of doing that.

I'd originally planned to find the opportunity to talk things out with him, but before I could, I came down with a fever. When he found out, he eagerly came back with an electric slow cooker, saying that he would cook for me and take care of me.

I never thought the electric slow cooker would result in my death.

Stuart, the friend I'd treated with nothing but the utmost sincerity, turned out to be a foolish yet wicked jackal.

After I died, to avoid being held accountable for what had happened, Stuart pinned all the blame on me. He even started livestreaming, putting on a brave front for the audience.

"My housemate set the apartment on fire while cooking. The fire was only put out in time because I called the fire department. And now, I'm forced to compensate the landlord on his behalf. But it's fine! After all, I'm just your average sweet, brave, and responsible guy."

The online community swiftly stuck up for him. They cursed me out, calling me a stupid and vicious menace who deserved to die. Who knew what other kind of calamity I would've brought to society if I'd carried on living?

They even looked into my background. After unearthing my parents' company, they initiated boycotts against it. My parents had already been deeply in grief over my death. The company's bankruptcy only made things worse, and they both passed away soon after.

Meanwhile, Stuart was able to ride this wave of publicity and become an internet celebrity, building his fame by stepping on the dead bodies of my entire family.

This time around, after seeing Stuart's disgusting face again, I felt nothing but bitter loathing. I wanted him to pay for everything he'd done in my previous life.

Perhaps because I stayed silent for too long, Stuart thought I was objecting to his decision.

He grew wary and questioned me, "Why are you looking at me like that? This so-called insulation is just a layer of foam, used for scaming people by filling out the space. It's just shoddy construction work. You don't seriously think it's useful, do you?"

The workers who were smashing into the walls nearby were a little stunned. Even their gazes flickered. They never expected Stuart to be that dumb.

I didn't stop him as I had in my previous life. I simply studied him with a faint, unreadable smile, saying, "It's none of my business whether you decide to smash into the walls, but have you informed Mr. Ferguson about this?"

Stuart froze. Looking visibly caught, he started yelling at me.

"So what if I didn't tell Mr. Ferguson about it? I'm spending my own money to help him renovate the place! He'd be thrilled when he sees that his apartment has gotten even bigger!"

I stopped the audio recording on my phone and waved Stuart off, saying, "Go ahead with your renovation work then. It's best if you can give Mr. Ferguson a huge surprise. I have class to attend, so I'm heading out now."

I started leaving the apartment early and coming back late to deliberately avoid running into Stuart. A few days had passed without any incident before I suddenly got a call from Mr. Ferguson.

"You owe me an explanation, Mr. Langley!" Mr. Ferguson snapped at me, his voice furious and frantic. "Why did you damage my property without prior permission? Don't you know that what you did is illegal?"

For a moment, I was utterly confused. When did I damage the apartment? All I did at the apartment was sleep there at night. I didn't even have time to cook.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Ferguson. What did I do to the apartment?"

"Why are you acting like you did nothing when you tore out the insulation at my apartment? I want you to move out today!"

At last, the situation dawned on me. It was pretty hilarious, to be honest. Did Stuart think he could throw me under the bus because he was scared that his actions had blown up in his face?

What made him think I would take the fall for him?

"It seems to me you're questioning the wrong guy, Mr. Ferguson. It was your other tenant who damaged your property. You should be confronting him about it."

"I've already spoken to him. He said that it was you who—"

"I have evidence, Mr. Ferguson. You can listen to the audio recording I'm about to send you to figure out who's truly at fault here. Also, my professors and classmates can act as my witnesses. I've been spending all my time doing experiments on campus. I haven't had time to hire a crew to get any work done at the apartment."

After I sent over the audio recording, I didn't hear back from Mr. Ferguson. He was probably going after Stuart again.

Unsurprisingly, when I got home, Stuart was fuming. The moment he saw me, he stormed up to me and questioned me, "Benson! Just what the hell are you trying to do? Why did you secretly record our conversation? You even sent it to Mr. Ferguson! Do you have any idea how much trouble you've gotten me into?"

His righteous indignation made me snort. My eyes dripped with mockery as I retorted, "What's the matter? You're allowed to frame me, but I'm not allowed to use a recording to clear my name?"

Stuart couldn't respond. His lips parted, but no words came out. In the end, he flopped onto the floor and started bawling his eyes out. "I don't care! You knew it wasn't the right thing to do, so why didn't you warn me sooner? I'm about to get kicked out of the apartment! Don't you feel the slightest bit of remorse for that?"

"Remorse? Why should I feel remorse? Did I tell you to destroy the walls? Didn't I tell you to get Mr. Ferguson's permission first? I'm not your mother, you know. It's not my duty to clean up your messes for you."

Snorting, I went straight to my room without paying him any further attention.

This time around, without a sucker like me who cleaned up after him, Stuart was forced to bend over backward and do everything he could to appease Mr. Ferguson. He also had to pay a large sum in compensation and provide an additional deposit just to avoid getting turned out of the apartment.

I thought this lesson would be enough for him to at least be on his best behavior for a while, but he continued doing whatever he pleased.

…

At night, I was in my room working on a presentation when I heard the washing machine beeping in a way that indicated it was malfunctioning. Since it was a pretty old model that often encountered errors, I didn't give it much thought.

But the beeping persisted, and after some time, an anxious Stuart came knocking on my door.

"Benson, you need to come out and take a look at this! The washing machine keeps beeping like something's wrong. What should we do?"

His interruption made it impossible for me to focus on my work. Frowning, I opened the door in annoyance. "Why are you coming to me for help when there's something wrong with the washing machine? It's not like I know how to fix it. You can either restart it, call Mr. Ferguson about it, or get a repairman to fix it."

Still, I couldn't let the washing machine carry on beeping the entire time, so I pushed Stuart aside to unplug it first.

But as soon as I spotted the state of the washing machine, my eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets.

"Stuart, are you using the washing machine to do the dishes?"

The washing machine was filled with shattered tableware, the ceramic shards piling together at the base. No wonder the machine was beeping nonstop.

All along, I thought Stuart was just clueless when it came to basic life skills. But now, I was beginning to wonder if he might actually have some kind of intellectual disability.

Meanwhile, upon hearing my question, Stuart started to act all hurt and blamed everything else but himself for the situation.

"If a washing machine can wash clothes, why can't it wash dishes? There's nothing on it that says it's not allowed. The plates were so dirty and greasy. I didn't want to touch them with my own hands. Who knew they'd be so fragile anyway? I can't believe they broke so easily.

"It's fine. This doesn't scare me. I'm a brave and responsible guy!"

I couldn't even think of something to say. While I wasn't sure if Stuart had any ounce of bravery in him, I was certain he would soon be expected to fork out another sum in compensation again.

"This washing machine is unusable now. Find a repairman yourself and see if it can be fixed," I said.

Stuart's expression fell at once. Scowling, he protested, "Why should I? It's the washing machine that has a problem anyway. It's too old, and it ruined all my tableware. I'm already being nice by not demanding that Mr. Ferguson compensate me for my plates!"

Seeing that I didn't react at all, Stuart frantically grabbed my hand, his eyes red and pleading. "You have to be my witness, Benson. This wasn't my fault!"

After hearing something so shameless, I felt compelled to study Stuart carefully, as if I suspected that he was actually a robot masquerading as a human.

"I'm genuinely curious to know how you even managed to stay alive for this long. If you think it's the washing machine that is to blame for this, you can tell Mr. Ferguson. However, I'm not obligated to act as your so-called witness. Figure it out yourself."

Just as I was about to turn away, Stuart ranted, "How can you be so heartless? We're housemates! Why aren't you willing to help me at all?

"You have a washing machine in your bedroom, don't you? Just bring it out so that we can use it together. And once the lease is over, you can leave it behind for Mr. Ferguson. It's too heavy for you to take with you anyway."

He started making his way toward my bedroom, but I pushed him away.

"Don't cross the line, Stuart. How are you entitled to use my washing machine? We're not that close. Stop flattering yourself."

Before going back to my room, I caught the resentful look in Stuart's eyes. It put me on guard, and I began locking my door every time I went in or out.

But the very next day, just as I got home, I still saw something that made me lose my mind.

Stuart had hired a locksmith, who was in the middle of dismantling the lock on my door. Upon seeing that half the lock had already been taken out, I immediately shouted, "What are you doing to my room? Who gave you permission to unlock the door?"

Stuart didn't take me seriously at all. He even slung an arm over my shoulder without a care in the world and said, "Why are you shouting your head off, Benson? I needed to use the washing machine, but I couldn't get in because you locked the door. So, I had no choice but to hire someone to open it."

The locksmith clearly realized he'd involved himself in a messy situation. He stopped what he was doing, but the oblivious Stuart got impatient and started urging him.

"Why aren't you getting on with it, mister? Hurry up and get the lock open. The forecast says it's going to rain tomorrow. I have to do my laundry and hang the clothes out to dry today."

"Stuart Harper!" I snapped icily. "I'll say this one last time. This is my room. If you try to force your way in again, I'll call the police immediately. When that happens, don't say I didn't warn you."

Stuart froze in shock when he saw how merciless I was being. A moment later, he scoffed and stormed off in a huff.

I rubbed my forehead. Stuart was nothing but trouble. I had to find a new place to live as soon as I could.

After telling my professor I'd be taking a few days off from school, I went to a real estate agent and started looking for similar apartments. After my experience with Stuart, I gave up entirely on the idea of sharing a place with someone.

I was still deliberating over which place to move to when I opened the door and spotted a familiar electric slow cooker in Stuart's hands.