Brielle Davenport tells me to test out rat poison on her childhood sweetheart, Trevor Whitlock's live stream, just so the popularity can be boosted.

"All you lose is a life, you know. Meanwhile, Trev has always dreamed of becoming a popular streamer."

Then, Brielle hands the rat poison to me.

I don't turn her down. Instead, I lift the rat poison to my lips and drink it right in front of the camera.

Naturally, my actions boost Trevor to the top spot of the platform, making him the most popular male streamer. The delighted Brielle is quick to throw him an afterparty to celebrate his success.

The next day, when Brielle opens the door to the studio, she notices my stiff figure on the floor, my lips still bluish-purple from the poison.

She has always been cold and aloof, and yet, she crumbles from anxiety on the spot.

I used to come back to life within two hours after my death. Yet, this time, I show no signs of life.

Brielle keeps calling out my name. Later on, she can only listen in disbelief as the doctor pronounces my death.

Meanwhile, I've already stirred awake in my original world and started my life anew.

The truth is, I've transmigrated into this book eight times in a row. In the first seven times, Brielle had saved me seven times, but she also hurt me that many times.

In the eighth attempt, I return seven lives to her. Finally, I'm able to leave this world once and for all.

This was the sixth time I'd died for Brielle Davenport. Just one more death, and I would finally be able to sever the bond of fate with her completely.

When I opened my eyes, I met Brielle's panicked gaze.

She let out a sigh of relief, then abruptly shoved me away. "Why aren't you getting up if you're already awake? Do you think lying there is going to make anyone take pity on you?"

Brielle's tone was filled with indifference. It was as if she wasn't the very woman who had wept uncontrollably at my bedside after I used myself as a cushion to break Logan Holloway's fall.

Before I could even process things, the pain from my shattered bones crashed over me like a wave.

This was my sixth death, and my body's ability to heal was getting weaker with each one.

The first time, Brielle and I were in a car accident. I took the fatal blow for her, and she cried by my bedside until she could barely breathe.

The third time, her childhood friend, Logan, needed a heart transplant. She begged me tearfully to give him mine.

The fifth time, I exhausted myself saving Logan, who was drowning, and died in the water. But when I woke up, he claimed I had tried to drown him.

And every single time, without exception, Brielle chose to believe him.

"Bree…" Logan's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

He was hiding behind Brielle, his eyes red-rimmed. "Trev, I know you don't like me, but how could you… how could you push me off the 17th floor?"

A flicker of displeasure crossed Brielle's eyes. "When did you become so cruel, Trev? Didn't I already tell you that there's absolutely nothing going on between Logan and me?"

The way Brielle looked at me seemed like she wanted nothing more than to skin me alive.

I watched the two of them proclaiming their innocence, all while clinging tightly to each other, and suddenly found it all laughable.

Her expression darkened when she saw me keeping quiet, and she spat, "Apologize."

I smiled and met her gaze. "Brielle, I did nothing wrong."

Last night, Logan had asked me to meet him on the rooftop. With a vicious look on his face, he said, "Bree says you won't ever die. But that won't do. If you don't die, how can I ever be with her?"

Then he charged at me, using me to cushion his fall. We had plummeted from the 17th floor together as he held me tightly.

However, my reaction only infuriated Brielle. She stared at me darkly and said, "Trevor Whitlock, how the hell did you turn into such a person?"

I listened to Brielle's accusations, long since used to them. Ever since Logan returned to the country, she had started viewing me as nothing but a jealous, spiteful man.

When I tried to reach for a glass of water, I realized that I couldn't even lift my arm.

Noticing my failed attempt, Logan immediately picked up a glass of water and came over. "It's my presence that's upsetting him. I apologize, Trev."

But before I could take the glass of water from him, he accidentally poured the scalding water onto my wounds. The searing pain tore a cry out of me.

"I'm sorry, Trev. I… I didn't mean to…" Logan tugged at Brielle's sleeve, his eyes welling up with tears and looking pitiful once again.

"Why are you putting on an act? You can clearly heal yourself, yet you're deliberately scaring Logan. Trevor, do you really hate him that much?" Brielle asked, her eyes filled with disgust.

Looking down at the festering wound on my leg, I let out a bitter laugh inwardly.

"Bree, my hand hurts so bad…"

Brielle anxiously examined Logan's injury. It was just a tiny scratch, but she called in several doctors for him.

The doctors crowded around Logan, dabbing iodine on his scratch. But my scalded, blistered wounds from the boiling water went completely ignored.

Even when one of the doctors did happen to notice me, Brielle wouldn't allow anyone to tend to me. "Since you won't apologize, then you can just suffer," she said.

I met her icy stare and let out a soft, quiet laugh. What she didn't know was that she and I shared a bond that spanned across seven lifetimes.

In every single one of them, Brielle would save me, and we would end up together. But every time, she would also end up betraying me, leaving me to die filled with resentment.

This lifetime was no exception. When she was kicking up a fuss trying to break up with me, we got into a car accident. I fell into a coma after saving her.

While I was unconscious, the memories of those seven lives came back to me. The moment I woke up, my first decision was to clear every debt I owed her.

This time, I was going to sever our bond of seven lifetimes for good.

After the doctors left, Logan shot me a contemptuous glance and said, "I'm hungry, Bree. How I wish I could have some of Trev's chicken noodle soup."

Brielle looked at me, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Logan's hungry. Go make him some soup."

A bitter laugh escaped me as I pointed at the wounds on my body. "Brielle, I'm injured. I can't even get out of bed right now."

However, Brielle was convinced I was faking it. Ignoring my pain, she forcibly dragged me out of bed. I broke out in a cold sweat from the agony as she pulled me along behind her, but she paid me no heed and just continued hauling me out.

"Must you really be so jealous, Trevor? Well, since you can't get out of bed, I'll give you a helping hand!" she said, dragging me all the way to the kitchen and shoving me inside.

Then, she stared at me coldly. "Make Logan a good meal, and don't try anything stupid."

I looked down at the red mark she had left on my wrist and felt a wave of bitterness rising within me. Was this the way I was going to die in this lifetime? From pain?

With that thought in mind, I forced myself to stand. The agony felt like iron nails driven straight into my very bones. My hand shook so badly I couldn't hold the knife steady, and I ended up cutting myself, causing blood to drip everywhere.

Brielle looked at the blood in the bowl and frowned in displeasure. "Trevor, are you doing this on purpose? How is Logan supposed to eat that now?"

I ignored her and carried on working on the chicken soup.

Frustrated, she demanded, "Why are you so stubborn? If you'd just apologize to Logan, he wouldn't be angry anymore, and you wouldn't have to end up covered in wounds."

So she did notice that I was covered in wounds. She just chose to take it out on me for Logan's sake.

I slowly lifted my head and met her gaze. "Brielle, I did nothing wrong."

She stared at me hard, her voice thick with fury. "Trevor, do you have to go against me at every turn?"

Faced with my silence, she turned to leave. Right before she walked out, she threw one last glance over her shoulder and spat, "I really wish you would just die and never come back to life."

I was stunned for a moment. Then, with a smile on my face, I thought, "As you wish."

After I was done, I carried the bowl of chicken noodle soup out of the kitchen.

Logan sneered. "Trevor, who do you think Bree cares about more?"

I ignored him and walked straight past. The next second, I felt myself falling.

Logan had pushed me to the floor. The scalding soup spilled all over me, and shards of the broken bowl stabbed deep into my palms.

Logan shot me a taunting smile before picking up a piece of broken glass. He slashed his own wrist with it, then let out a loud, dramatic cry.

Brielle rushed out immediately and took in the scene before her.

"Trev, why… I was just trying to help you carry the soup. Why did you have to hurt me?"

Brielle's eyes blazed with anger as she glared at me.

"You're despicable," she said coldly, then put her arm around Logan and led him back to the bedroom.

I remained sprawled out on the floor, staring at my pierced palm.

Hot tears fell onto the wounds. I wasn't sure if I was crying from the pain or because she called me despicable.

After what felt like a long while, Brielle came back and helped me to the couch.

As she picked the shards out of my palm, she said, "Why do you have to be so stubborn? You know I just wanted you to apologize. Logan's not a bad person. He's just really dependent on me. I've only ever treated him like a younger brother this whole time."

I glanced at the fresh hickeys on her neck and lowered my head with a small, quiet smile.

My wounds wouldn't stop bleeding, and Brielle's expression darkened. She frowned slightly and asked, "Why are they healing so slowly?"

"I remember your wounds used to heal much faster before," Brielle said, her reproach carrying a faint undertone of concern.

I looked at the wounds with slight frustration. I was so close. If only I had lost just a little more blood, I would have finally been able to die from it.

When Logan's sobs drifted over from the bedroom, Brielle glanced hesitantly in my direction.

I said nothing and simply took the ointment from her.

She froze for a second, then stood and walked inside.

Logan whined pitifully, "The traction for my live stream is too low. The company's making me pay a penalty for breaching the contract."

Brielle soothed him gently. "How much do you need? I'll transfer it to your account tomorrow."

But Logan shook his head. "Streaming is my dream, Bree. I don't want to rely on you. I only have one request. I heard that product review streams are all the hype these days. I'd like Trev to review the taste of different rat poison on my stream."

Brielle was taken aback for a moment before she pushed Logan away. "That's too dangerous. I'll transfer the penalty fee to your account tomorrow."

Logan's eyes reddened as he looked at her. "I don't have any family left in this world. You're the only one I have left, Bree. I know you like Trev. I'll secretly switch out the real rat poison beforehand anyway. Besides, Trev can't really die, can he?"

A flicker of hesitation crossed Brielle's eyes. She looked at me through the doorway, lost in thought.

For the next few days, Brielle was remarkably kind to me. I even began to think that she might have had a change of heart, that she wanted us to get back together—until she brought me to the live stream studio where Logan was streaming.

Logan quickly pulled me close and greeted the viewers enthusiastically.

"Hi, everyone! I'm Logan, and today I have a very special guest with me, Mr. Whitlock! He's going to be reviewing rat poison live on stream!"

The mention of reviewing rat poison sent the live stream's popularity through the roof.

Looking at the ten cups of rat poison in front of me, I instinctively shot a glance at Brielle. She looked away uneasily, as if giving implicit consent to everything that was going on.

"Now, Mr. Whitlock is about to start the review! Everyone, hit that 'like' button to cheer him on!"

At Logan's urging, the live stream shot straight to the top of the charts.

I watched Brielle's silent acquiescence and suddenly smiled. So that was why she'd been so nice to me lately.

My silence upset some of the viewers. Insults flooded the chat, accusing Logan of false advertising.

Logan's eyes reddened as he looked pleadingly at Brielle.

She frowned and said to me, "Drink it, Trev."

A complex emotion flickered in my eyes. "Brielle, I'll die."

I wasn't lying. Drinking the rat poison would be my seventh death. This time, there would be no coming back.

Seeing the comments section of the stream spiraling out of control, Brielle snapped impatiently, "All you're losing is a life, but becoming a top streamer is Logan's dream! What are you waiting for? Just drink it!"

I stood frozen for a moment, but I didn't refuse. With a faint smile on my lips, I picked up a cup, downed it, and drank the rest of the cups one by one.

My actions sent the comments section of the live stream into a frenzy. Logan wiped away his tears and began to ask me, "Mr. Whitlock, how does it taste?"

After downing the last cup of rat poison, I looked at Brielle and said softly, "They taste a little bitter… and a little sweet."

Yes, the bitterness came from the poison. And the sweetness was knowing that after this death, I could finally leave for good.

I turned to the camera with a smile. The live stream shot all the way to the top of the trending list, and Logan officially became the platform's top male streamer.

After the streaming ended, Logan shot me a provocative look. I didn't respond. The poison was starting to take effect. I collapsed to the floor in agony, enduring the searing pain.

Everyone rushed off to the celebration party. No one cared that I was vomiting thick, black blood.

"Brielle…" I forced out her name with what strength I had left.

Brielle, who had been walking away without a second thought, stopped and turned back to look at me. She hesitated, seeming to want to check on me.

But Logan stepped in front of her and said softly, "Bree, Trev will be fine. He'll be back with us soon enough."

After a moment's hesitation, Brielle nodded. I watched her retreating figure and slowly closed my eyes.

My last thoughts were, "Brielle, we're even now. I don't owe you anything anymore."