2. Rebirth

I woke up in a large, fluffy bed, feeling oddly invigorated. The last thing I remembered was being stabbed—multiple times—left bleeding out in the mud. But now, there was no pain, no aching wounds, nothing. I ran my hands over my body, half expecting to find blood-soaked bandages, but my skin was smooth, unblemished.

I was sure I'd died in the woods.

"I just don't feel 32 anymore," I murmured, flexing my fingers. My hands... had they ever been this soft? This small? My skin was paler than I remembered, almost delicate.

It felt unnatural.

Panic gnawed at my gut as I took in my surroundings. This wasn't a hospital. It was a fucking kid's bedroom. The walls were covered in posters of classic rock bands, the shelves cluttered with trophies and Power Ranger action figures. The bedspread was dark blue, patterned with white stars, and a scratched-up desk stood by the window, covered in doodles and stickers.

Nothing about this place felt familiar.

Did someone find me? Patch me up? Could I trust them? Or was this just another setup to finish the job?

I forced myself out of bed and staggered toward the full-length mirror beside the dresser. What I saw made my stomach drop.

The reflection staring back at me was someone I wanted to punch on sight.

A pale redhead with big green eyes and freckles, a sharp, fox-like face that made him look erotic. The worst of it all? The long fucking ponytail. What man has three feet of hair?

I looked like one of those rent boys at a gay bar.

"What the fuck is going on?" I whispered.

Then, suddenly, a glowing screen flickered into existence before me.

A Start button hovered in midair.

My heart pounded as I stared at it. It was like something out of a video game, except it all felt terrifyingly real. I hesitated, then reached out and pressed the button. I felt actual resistance beneath my fingertip, like it was a solid object.

[Jack Spencer, you asked for a second chance, and God found you pitiful enough to grant your wish.]

"A second chance...?" I muttered, my mind racing. God found me pitiful enough? How fucking insulting.

The screen shifted, displaying a series of images and texts.

This boy has locked himself in his room for four months now, throwing a tantrum no one cared about enough to stop. After years of neglect and ridicule from his entire family and peers, he'd had enough. The only one allowed in and out was a butler bringing food.

Not a single family member checked on him.

One night, he took a knife and sliced his wrists open. He bled out alone.

That same night, I was killed in the woods.

He had begged to never live again.

I had begged for another chance.

And so, here I was—stuck in his body.

"'This is your final chance to perform well and complete tasks as is God's will,'" I read aloud, feeling a sick sense of irony.

So that was the deal? Complete missions, and I got to keep this new life? Sounds like a fair enough trade.

A new line of text appeared.

[First Mission: Talk to your sister.

Reward: Past life strength

Penalty: Unbearable migraine]

Sister? What sister?

The moment I read that, a sharp, stabbing pain tore through my skull. I winced, gripping my head as nausea rolled through me.

It wasn't a warning.

It was a promise.

This thing was real.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. Talk to my sister. Simple enough, right?

Except it wasn't.

Because I didn't fucking know her.

A sudden knock at the door made me flinch, and before I could respond, a girl barged in.

She looked just like me—long red hair, green eyes, pale as hell. But younger. Maybe sixteen.

"You actually got out of bed?" She stared at me in amazement. "Are... are you feeling better?"

Above her head, two glowing bars appeared.One had a heart symbol labeled Love. The other had a skull labeled Hate.

Debbie's Hate bar? Maxed out.

Her Love bar? A measly 2%.

I felt a cold sense of detachment as I processed that. Was it because she just didn't have much love in her heart?

Or was it personal?

She smirked. "Hey! I just came to tell you something! School starts tomorrow, and Dad said if you don't attend, he'll disown you for good!"

This can't be real.

I shot forward and grabbed her arms. Her skin was warm. Real.

"Holy shit, it's real!" I gasped.

"What?! You gonna hit me or something?! I'll scream!" she snapped, trying to pull away.

I ignored her reaction, my mind racing.

"What's today's date?"

She scowled. "What?!"

"What about my name?"

She gave me a look. "Jack Spencer."

So my name stayed the same? "What grade am I in?"

"Uh, you're a senior in high school. Did you hit your head or something, Jack? Are you sick?"

I narrowed my eyes. "What's your name?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Deborah Spencer. You... don't remember me?"

Then, her expression shifted—an amused smirk curling on her lips.

"You've finally lost your mind, haven't you? I guess it isn't easy being the weakest link in the family."

Ah.

There it was. The urge to punch her.

I had never had a sister before, so I didn't know how I was supposed to feel about her.

But this kid—the one whose body I now inhabited—had died alone after being neglected by his family. Including her. And she just smirked about me being disowned, as if it were funny. I didn't have all his memories, but I didn't need them to know one thing.

This girl?

She was a rival.

Deborah stood before me, arms crossed, looking arrogantly down her nose like she was the queen of the goddamn world.

"So, what did you want?" I asked, already irritated.

"We go back to school tomorrow, and I don't quite feel like being embarrassed by our blood relation again this year," she huffed.

I blinked at her. "Why would you be embarrassed?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you serious, or are you just acting clueless right now? You think I'm in the mood for your weird games? No wonder everyone talks shit about you in passing. Do me a favor and deny any relation to me at all times. I don't want my junior year fucked up by you this time!" She stabbed a finger in my chest. "Find your own way to school, don't talk to me, and don't even breathe next to me."

"Sounds easy enough," I said. I didn't want to get to know her either.

She scoffed. "Don't beg to... what?"

"Sure, whatever. I'll do that. Get out now."

She froze, blinking at me like I'd grown a second head. "What's wrong with you?"

I shrugged. "What isn't?"

She tilted her head, scowling. "Why aren't you begging for my help?"

"Why would I waste my breath? That's fucking dumb," I curled my lip at her in disgust. "If you want a beggar, go find a crackhead. Until then, fuck off, Debbie."

Her eyes widened in shock. "Debbie?" she echoed, like I'd just spat in her face.

Rolling my eyes, I pushed her out of the room, making her stumble straight into a passing butler. The tray of food in his hands wobbled, but he barely reacted, just glancing between the two of us.

"Erwin, something is wrong with him," Deborah snapped, her face still twisted in disbelief.

"I'll handle it right away, Miss Deborah," Erwin said calmly, bowing his head as she stomped off.

A screen appeared in front of me.

[Mission Accomplished!

You've been awarded past life strength!

You are now as strong as you were in your past life]

Awesome. That should help me get out of all the shit I'm about to stir.

A new line of text appeared.

[New Mission: Change in Appearance

Reward: Good Karma

Penalty: A significant drop in intelligence]

Fuck my life! I couldn't afford to lose any more brain cells! In my past life, I dropped out in sophomore year to run the streets. If I wanted to change anything this time around, I needed to keep what little intelligence I had left.

"Erwin—"

"Young master, please don't pay attention to anything Miss Deborah may have said. She's just trying to antagonize you," Erwin said smoothly, as if rehearsed. That meant this kid—Jack Spencer—probably couldn't catch a break even at home.

His love meter was at 50% and his hate meter at 50%—neutral, but wary.

"I'm not antagonized," I said. "Can you give me a haircut?"

Erwin looked mildly startled. "Are you sure, sir? You've taken such good care of it over the years—"

"I'm sure. It has to go. Now. I'm actually sick of it," I said, barely holding back my frustration. What the fuck was this kid thinking, growing his hair out this long in the first place? He already looked feminine. Why make it worse?

"...Yes, sir," Erwin agreed cautiously.

I sat down, and he immediately cut off the long ponytail in one clean snip.

Two feet of hair—gone.

It was a relief.

"Cut it very short," I instructed.

"Yes, sir," he said, more confident this time.

He worked fast and efficiently, giving me a clean, professional buzzed cut. When I looked in the mirror, the difference was striking. I looked more masculine, more put together. Handsome instead of pretty.

But... was it enough?

Should I cut a scar into my face to make myself look more intimidating?

I frowned at my reflection. All my natural scariness was gone, which meant people would probably try to fuck with me. I'd have to beat a few of them up to get any respect.

The screen popped up again.

[Mission Accomplished!

You've been awarded good karma.]

"May I ask what prompted such a drastic change, sir?" Erwin asked cautiously. "You loved your long hair."

I smirked, tilting my head as I studied my new look.

"I just had a change of heart," I said smoothly. "A new mindset calls for a new look."

"A new mindset?" Erwin echoed, looking genuinely uneasy.

"Yeah. I've decided to change myself for the better. I think I might've been too weak and passive before." I met his gaze, my voice calm and deliberate. "I apologize for being such a little bitch these past few... however long. I've reflected heavily, and I'm going to change. Your job is secure, as long as there's loyalty only between us."

Erwin's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but his hate bar ticked down to 10%.

"Yes, sir," he said, bowing his head.

Good. I didn't like weak people either.

"Listen carefully," I said, lowering my voice. "You can't trust anyone on Deborah's side."

Erwin stiffened slightly but nodded.

"If her people try to bring me something, check it first. Stop her from coming into my room as much as possible. And if anyone from the other side does anything suspicious, you tell me immediately. No delays. Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" Erwin said, looking more serious than before. "I won't let you down. Are you afraid for your life, sir?"

I laughed even though he was right. "No. But I'm smart. So I figured I should start using my brain a little more."

Erwin still looked skeptical, but now he was listening.

"Besides," I grinned, cracking my knuckles, "I'm not going to stay like I was."

I turned back to the mirror, taking in my new reflection.

"I'm Jack motherfucking Spencer," I said, voice filled with certainty. "The only way from here is up, Erwin."

And so what if this world wanted to throw shit at me?

The world will be mine again.