Chapter 1

I saw an art class girl being assaulted by someone weirdly dressed. I stepped in, saved her, and called the police.

The next day, she accused *me* of being the attacker.

She even claimed I forced her to make a false statement the day before.

Then, the police took me away, and I lost my guaranteed spot at a top-tier university.

My dad, who had a disability in his leg, wrote a desperate letter in his own blood, pleading my innocence, then took his own life outside her house.

With insufficient evidence, I was released, but I'd lost my university admission and missed the college application deadline. My life was pretty much over.

I drifted aimlessly for six months, then saw the art class girl and her actual assailant walking hand-in-hand.

Furious, I charged over, demanding why she’d betrayed me.

The attacker shoved me, and I was hit by a speeding car, sent flying.

When I woke up again, I was back to the night it all happened.

“Don’t touch me, or I’ll scream!”

“Help! Someone, help me!”

“Is anyone out there?!”

I should be dead. Why could I still hear those screams from six months ago?

Not far away, hidden in the bushes, a man in strange clothes was assaulting a helpless woman.

It wasn’t just familiar; it was exactly the same scene.

I stood frozen on the sidewalk.

A car flashed its hazard lights and honked, shaking me out of my trance. I quickly moved to the other side of the road.

In my past life, I saw Tiffany, a girl from my art class, being assaulted. My sense of justice flared, and I rushed over, throwing my backpack at the attacker’s head.

The man clutched his head with one hand, pulling up his pants with the other, swearing as he left, not forgetting to threaten me, “Alex Miller from Year 11, right? I’ll remember you. You’ll pay for this!”

It was Blake, the school’s resident jerk.

I didn’t take his threat seriously. I took off my shirt to cover Tiffany, comforted her as she reeled from the trauma, and even encouraged her to call the police.

When I got home, I told my dad about my heroic act.

Years ago, my dad had his leg broken stepping in to help someone, but he never regretted it.

He patted my shoulder proudly. “That’s my boy. I’m proud of you.”

But the next day at school, Tiffany showed up with the police to arrest me.

She was an acting student, alright. The tears flowed like a faucet, and she looked utterly distraught, enough to fool anyone.

“Alex Miller assaulted me yesterday, and he threatened to kill my whole family if I ever told anyone.” She wiped her tears, glaring at me with venom. “The worst part is, he played the victim, making me out to be the hero, demanding our family give him a commendation banner in front of all the teachers and students.”

It was like I’d been hit by a truck, completely disoriented.

It wasn’t until I was in the police car that I reacted. “That’s not true! I helped you! I got rid of that guy and even comforted you. How could you betray me like this?”

Her eyes were red, and she started crying again. “A girl’s reputation is everything. I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”

Everyone seemed to believe her.