Gwen and I walked toward the academy's art gallery. From a distance, we saw Willow standing in front of a painting, surrounded by Jess and several lecturers from other departments.

Willow was passionately explaining her creative concept. "Here, I used the dot-stippling technique to portray the moment when fragmented light and shadow reassemble, symbolizing hope in the midst of despair..."

That was exactly what I had written in my own artist's statement.

The lecturers surrounding her all nodded in agreement, looking at her with admiration.

"Willow is not only talented but also hardworking."

"Indeed. The depth of thought in this painting surpasses many of her peers."

My arrival disrupted this harmonious scene. Everyone's eyes fell on me, and murmurs started to rise.

"How does she have the nerve to show up?"

"Look at her eyes. There isn't a hint of remorse."

When Willow saw me, she immediately stopped her explanation. An expression of surprise tinged with sadness formed on her face.

"Oh, you're here, Cassidy," she said.

As she stepped forward, her eyes reddened in an instant. "I know you're very talented and always hoped to have a breakthrough with your graduation work, but you can't just plagiarize! If you had told me earlier, I could've helped you."

Her words were full of sincerity, casting herself as a kind and forgiving victim who had been betrayed.

Jess looked at me with eyes full of disappointment. "Cassidy, you may be naturally gifted, but that doesn't mean you can slack off and achieve what you want using despicable methods. Have you let all the praise go to your head?

"I remember you once said your dream was to hold a solo exhibition. Is this how you plan to do it? By displaying a plagiarized piece?"

She gave me a long, hard look and said disapprovingly, "So many geniuses waste their potential by slacking off later in life. Do you really want to become a wasted potential?"

I looked at Willow. She was staring back at me triumphantly, and gone was that pitiful act from earlier.

Nevertheless, I didn't respond to Jess or Willow. In my past life, I would've been so furious that I'd have argued with them and even broken down in hysterics.

But now, I wouldn't foolishly try to defend myself again. Gwen tried to speak up for me, but I stopped her by shaking my head at her.

We left the art gallery. Gwen was very anxious on my behalf. I told her I was fine and sent her home first.

Back at the studio, I started to rethink the entire situation. Some suspicions started to form in my mind. I locked all the doors and windows in the studio. I pulled shut the heaviest blackout curtains and even found a roll of packing tape to seal every crack around the windows and doors.

Then, I turned to the easel and began to paint.

I made quick work of my painting. Two hours later, my painting was done. I didn't leave the studio to make sure that Willow couldn't sneak in to take photos and steal from me again.

Early the next morning, I looked at my phone.

At 4:00 am, Willow had updated her social media. It was an identical sketch to mine! The core elements and use of technique were completely in my style.

The caption read, "I pulled an all-nighter to paint this. I feel like I'm about to drop dead. Thank goodness I'm satisfied with the result. Good night, world."

Below were likes and comments of praise.

"You've worked so hard, Willow!"

"Even geniuses have to hustle!"

I frowned. If no one had snuck into the studio, then how did she pull it off? Could a surveillance camera be installed in my studio?

I bought a signal detector online and carefully checked every corner of the studio. I even checked every single electrical outlet.

To my dismay, I found nothing.

But just to be safe, I packed up my art supplies and took a cab to a paid study space far away from campus. I chose a fully enclosed, private room, ensuring there was no chance of any surveillance device being pre-installed at the venue.

This time, I painted a still life titled "Shattered Sculpture."

I deliberately used some unconventional coloring and lighting techniques. These were new ideas I'd only recently come up with and had never shared with anyone.

After I was done, I didn't take the painting with me. I locked it inside the storage locker.

However, that very evening, in a private group chat full of art industry veterans, Willow posted a highly refined version of the exact same painting under the guise of seeking feedback.

What she had painted was unmistakably "Shattered Sculpture."

She even posted it half an hour earlier than when I had even finished my piece!

The senior artists in the group showered her with praise, commending her bold vision and technical mastery. A few eagle-eyed members noticed something familiar and began expressing their doubts in the comments.

"Say, doesn't this style kind of resemble Cassidy's?"

"Yeah, kind of. But Willow's version is more polished and mature. Maybe Cassidy is imitating her again? That wouldn't be the first time."

"Kids these days always want the easy way."

I was even more baffled. How exactly was Willow stealing from me?

I sat alone in the empty studio, going over everything in my head. Physical isolation didn't work. Signal-blocking didn't work either.

That ruled out almost all conventional means of theft.

Then, I remembered the interviews Willow gave after winning the Gold Award in my past life. She was graceful in her speech. However, whenever she was asked about the creative process or emotional journey behind her work, her answers were vague and superficial.

She was like a bad actress reciting lines that weren't her own.

Back then, I just thought she wasn't good with words. But now, I realized that maybe she simply didn't know what to say because she had the result but not the process.

A ridiculous idea crept into my mind.

I messaged Gwen and shared my theory. Then, I began testing it.

I sat in front of the easel without picking up a brush or laying out a canvas. I simply closed my eyes and began visualizing a painting in my mind.

I imagined a black cat crouching on a windowsill with a dark, stormy sky behind it. I visualized lightning slicing through distant clouds.

The entire scene was moody, tense, and full of visual drama. In my mind, I even added a touch of vivid emerald green to the cat's eyes.

The next day, Gwen once again barged into my studio.

Her face was full of rage as she bellowed, "Cass, you have to see this! Willow has done it again! She's a real piece of work!"

She slammed her phone down hard on my desk.

On the screen was Willow's latest social media post, which was published early this morning.

It showed a stunning and masterful oil sketch.

The subject was a black cat crouching on a windowsill, its eyes gleaming with a shade of green I knew all too well.

The caption was casual but smug. It read, "I couldn't sleep last night and had a little spark of inspiration. I'm really loving the green in the cat's eyes. Don't they look just like emeralds?"

I stared at the painting. At that moment, every last bit of fog in my mind cleared away. So that was it!

Gwen saw me smiling and stomped her foot anxiously. "Cass, why are you smiling? She copied your thoughts from your mind! This is some kind of witchcraft! What are we supposed to do now?"

I shook my head. "No, Gwen."

Willow didn't just copy my thoughts. It was even more direct than that.

I smiled in a carefree way as I said, "It's perfect that she can do this."

I thought, "Willow, if you love copying so much, I'll let you copy my work all the way to the end this time!"