In my last life, Chloe never stopped complaining about 501.

Too suffocating. Too intense.

Always studying. Always competing.

Like if they skipped one day, they'd drop dead.

But now?

This felt like a dream.

My three roommates were top scorers from three different states.

Their SAT scores didn't even show how good they were—the test was the limit, not them.

After moving into 501, I realized it wasn't just hard work.

They were straight-up brilliant.

One spoke four languages. One was deep into AI. The last? A math prodigy, basically locked in for a physics PhD at an Ivy.

I'd basically scored three private tutors—for free.

I could wake up laughing.

Especially Emma Dawson.

Every time she caught me doing calculus, she'd frown over my shoulder.

"You're still getting this wrong? Why use such a stupid method? You're wasting time. I can't even watch."

I instantly held up my book like an offering. "Please. Teach me."

Like she'd been waiting, Emma snatched my pen.

One calc problem—she solved it four different ways. Clearer than any professor.

Once Emma started tutoring, the other two jumped in.

That's when I realized—they'd already finished all four years of coursework.

Now they were bored. So they taught me, constantly pushing harder.

I slept six hours a night, fully living that "bookworm" life Chloe hated.

To her? Torture.

To me?

Heaven.

I soaked it all up like a dry sponge.

I didn't have time to care about Chloe—her cars, her gifts, her parties.

By the end of the semester, I even landed a scholarship.

It wasn't even one-thousandth of what I'd made running errands in my last life, but I was happy for days.

Because this time, I earned it.

I was figuring out what to get my roommates when Chloe finally cornered me in the library.

In just over a month, she looked wrecked.

Her eyes were unfocused, her hair dry and yellowed. She'd dropped at least fifteen pounds.

She grabbed my hand, tight. "They're all insane. All of them. At night, they play cards. If someone loses and gets mad, they burn me with cigarette butts. And I can't make a sound, or they slap me."

The burn marks flashed in my head.

That was Reina Brooke's thing.

Richest of the three—and the most average-looking.

Jealous of anyone prettier. Loved ruining pretty things, slowly.

Last time, she said my skin was like silk—and burned a heart into it.

This time, she said Chloe's legs were straight and pale. Like porcelain.

So when I saw the neat row of burns on Chloe's thigh—

Yeah.

Not surprising at all.

Chloe went on, "I'm going crazy. I really am. Mia... what if we switch back?"

I scoffed inside but put on a look. "But don't they give you five grand a month? Most people can't touch that. You really want to switch? I mean... I wouldn't mind."

At "five grand," her eyes dimmed.

"What are you talking about? I'm just venting. Rich people have quirks, right? Why make it a big deal?"

Now it sounded like I was the one complaining.

I didn't argue. I wasn't the one suffering.

She didn't bring it up again. Just walked off, dazed.

I watched her go, oddly relieved.

That five grand a month?

It wasn't pay.

It was blood money.

The three girls in 501 were deep into some patent project—and somehow, they dragged me in too.

I didn't get any of it.

Emma just shrugged. "You're the room mascot. You could literally do nothing and we'd still want you here."

That didn't sit right with me.

I couldn't touch the technical stuff, but I handled everything else—digging up materials, organizing steps, double-checking their process. I also basically ran the dorm. When they got locked in, they forgot things like... eating.

Not me.

With memories from my last life, I hit the cafeteria every day and grabbed BBQ ribs. Consider it payback for all the tutoring.

That's when I kept running into Chloe.

She hauled around huge bags of food.

So did I.

The difference? Those three rich girls didn't even eat it. They just liked watching Chloe scramble like it was a show.

Chloe looked me over, full of disgust. "What are you, their dog? Running errands every day?"

I glanced at her bags and smirked. "And you're not?"

Her face went red fast. "I get fifty bucks every run. Can those broke girls pay you that? Look at you. You think you can compete with me? Even if you get into grad school, so what? You making five grand a month? At least I get paid to bring food. What do you get?"

I let out a cold laugh and tucked the takeout closer, already ready for whatever kind of reaction Chloe was about to throw. Then I shot back, "I don't want money. I like doing it. Got a problem? Someone like you wouldn't understand friendship. If you want to be a dog, go ahead. Just stop barking in public."

Her face went full tomato. She shrieked and flung the food everywhere.

People nearby backed off like she might snap.

In my last life, Chloe was all soft smiles and easy kindness.

Now? Total public meltdown.

The smallest thing set her off. Everyone stayed on edge around her.

I walked off without a glance at the food all over the floor.

Still, a chill crept up my spine.

She still didn't get how those three vipers worked.

She'd just dumped the takeout.

Which meant she was late.

And with them? That never ended well.

I ran into Chloe again while picking up a food order. Late.

She looked wrecked—like a skeleton trying to breathe—curled up in the garden, quietly sobbing.

I didn't want to deal with her, but she saw me.

She looked up, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

A deep gash cut from the corner of her eye back toward her ear. Deep enough to make your stomach turn. Crumbs were stuck in it, like someone had mashed a cookie into her face.

She grabbed my hand. "You laughing at me? Seeing me like this—happy? Glad I took Room 502 from you?"

I shook her off and stepped back. "I don't know what you're talking about. If you don't treat that cut, it's gonna scar."

She burst out laughing, high and unhinged. "Scar? They don't keep pets unless they're marked. They want it to stay.

"You know how messed up they are? They make me wipe them after the bathroom. I can't even talk in my sleep. If I clench my teeth, I get slapped.

"I'm losing it. I haven't slept a full night since school started. They're gonna torture me to death. Do you know that? Do you—"

I looked at her, flat. "Isn't this what you wanted?"

Our eyes locked.

Something clicked.

She staggered back. "You came back too?"

I didn't answer.

Her venomous eyes lit up again. "If you came back, why'd you just watch me walk into hell? We worked so hard to get into this school. How could you do this to me?"

Her hysteria almost made me laugh.

"Wasn't this your choice? The 'nerd dorm' you trashed is heaven to me. The rich-girl dorm you dreamed about? That's your hell now. Same choice, different lives. Maybe think about why."

That did it.

Chloe snapped.

She lunged—just like last time—slamming me to the ground, hands locking around my throat.

"Bitch. I'll kill you."

My fingers brushed a loose brick—

A cold voice cut in behind us.

"Chloe, where are you? We're waiting. The horse game's short a player."

Chloe froze, like something had taken over.

Fear flooded her face.

She didn't even glance at me, still gasping on the ground. She turned and ran, stiff and jerky.

I pushed myself up and brushed the dirt off my clothes.

Carrying the food order back to the dorm, I caught sight of Ruth Lolley from 502—standing in the shadows at the corner.

She smiled—sweet, innocent—and showed her teeth.

Ruth had that doll-like face. In my last life, when they were breaking me down, she was always the gentle one. Soft voice, kind words. Made me think she was my only way out.

She wasn't.

She was the worst of them.

So many girls had cycled through 502.

Every single one? Picked by her.

She had this thing about cleanliness, too. One time, I didn't wash her socks right. She shoved my head into the toilet. Almost drowned me.

That suffocating shame and despair still clung to me.

My legs gave out. I dropped.

Seeing me like that—weak, pathetic—her expression sharpened. Like a hunter closing in.

"Hey, little bunny. Wanna join us?"