Chapter 1

On the morning of the National Finals, our Academic Rep, Chloe, kicked open the classroom door, dragging two massive crates of Red Bull and instant espresso packets.

She ordered everyone to mix their own lethal cocktail.

"TikTok says this concoction unlocks maximum brainpower!" she announced proudly. "Drink up, guys, and we’ll all crush the exam!"

In my past life, as Class President, I leaped out of my seat to stop everyone.

I pulled up medical studies on my phone, warning them that mixing high doses of energy drinks and caffeine powder would cause extreme palpitations, uncontrollable hand tremors, and cardiac arrhythmia.

The whole class listened to me. Not a single person took a sip.

Then Chloe bombed her exam. She scored eighty points below her practice tests.

She pointed a finger at me, sobbing uncontrollably.

"So many people online said it gave them straight A’s! You sabotaged me on purpose, didn't you?!"

Her friends joined in, relentlessly bullying me online and offline.

When Chloe jumped from the roof that summer, her suicide note read that I had ruined her life.

From that day on, everyone labeled me a murderer. Driven to the brink by relentless harassment and guilt, I threw myself off the 28th-floor balcony.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the morning of the Finals.

Chloe was once again handing out Red Bull and espresso packets—this time, double the supply from my past life.

When she reached my desk, she smirked at me. "Oh, our resident medical expert shouldn’t touch this. If your precious hands start shaking, I can't afford to take the blame."

I froze for a split second.

She was reborn, too.

She remembered me stopping her in our past life. So this time, she doubled down on the dosage to share it with everyone—deliberately leaving me out.

I quietly leaned back in my chair.

This time, I just wanted to see if she’d still be smiling when the paramedics wheeled their stretchers straight into the testing hall.

Once Chloe finished handing out the cans, my deskmate, Harper, leaned over and whispered, "Why aren't you drinking any?"

I shook my head. "Feeling a bit off today. Don't want it."

Harper hesitated, holding a paper cup. She glanced at me, then down at the murky brown sludge of Red Bull mixed with concentrated coffee powder.

"Should... should I drink it?"

Her voice was barely a murmur, filled with anxious uncertainty.

I looked at her.

In my past life, Harper also bombed the exam, dropping sixty points below her average.

Later, she had joined Chloe's clique in tormenting me, calling me a selfish hypocrite who held everyone back because I was too scared to take a risk myself.

I didn't try to persuade her.

Nor did I encourage her.

In this life, I was done playing savior to anyone.

"That's completely up to you," I said evenly.

Harper bit her lip. She set the cup down on her desk, untouched.

Chloe strutted over with a brimming cup in her hand. Seeing Harper’s full cup, she arched an eyebrow.

"Harper, why aren't you drinking?"

Harper swallowed nervously. "I... I just want to wait a bit."

Chloe shot me a sidelong glare and sneered. "Don't let certain people get in your head. Some folks just hate seeing others succeed."

I said nothing.

Chloe went on, her voice projecting across the room.

"Over ninety percent of students who tried this hack over the last few years totally outperformed their usual scores. Your brain fires on all cylinders. Questions you couldn't solve before suddenly just click."

A few nearby classmates heard her, immediately lifting their cups to take big gulps.

"You don't want to miss an opportunity like this," Chloe added, letting her eyes drift back to me with a smug undertone. "Unlike someone here who thinks she’s a genius and is terrified of anyone taking her spot, so she tries to drag everyone down."

Harper instinctively glanced at me.

I flipped open my literature notes with an expressionless face, not offering a single syllable in response.

Seeing that I wouldn't take the bait, Chloe scoffed and walked away.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched her return to her seat. She picked up a massive sports bottle and chugged several huge mouthfuls.

That bottle held at least 800 milliliters.

I remembered in our previous life, she had only brought six cans of Red Bull and a single bag of coffee powder, dividing small sips among the class.

This time, she brought two giant cases, plus industrial-sized tubs of powder.

And she had downed the lion’s share herself. Her physical crash would hit faster, harder, and far more violently than anyone else's.

I pulled my gaze back and kept reviewing my notes.

A weird tension settled over the room. Most students had chugged their cups.

A few were on the fence, but seeing their peers drinking, they gave in to peer pressure and followed suit.

At seven-forty, our homeroom teacher, Ms. Miller, pushed the door open.

The room fell dead silent.

Ms. Miller glanced around, and her face instantly darkened.

Empty Red Bull cans were littered across desks and rolling on the floor. Torn coffee wrappers were scattered by the podium. The air reeked of cheap taurine and overpowering artificial espresso.

"Who told you to bring this junk in here?" Ms. Miller’s voice turned icy.

Nobody dared to breathe.

She marched over to a desk, snatched up an empty can, and raised her voice an octave higher.

"How many times did I warn you never to touch unregulated energy drinks before the Finals? Did my words go in one ear and out the other?"

Chloe stood up, chin held high.

"Ms. Miller, I brought them. We’re just drinking water and getting an energy boost. Do you really have to micromanage that?"