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By the time I drove home, it was already past midnight, but sleep was impossible.

Until I could figure out how to outmaneuver Tina, I knew my life was in constant danger.

Tossing and turning on the bed, I suddenly felt a wave of nausea surge through my stomach. I gagged desperately, but nothing came out.

It was the same sickening sensation I used to feel when my parents forced me to eat greasy slabs of pork fat. Panicked, I rushed to the fridge, grabbed an ice cream, and swallowed it down in hopes of easing the discomfort.

But it did nothing.

Then, a realization struck me. I fumbled for my phone, opened it, and sure enough—Tina had started another livestream.

"Hey fam, let me treat you all to something special today… pure fatty pork! Keep those gifts coming!"

On screen, she held up a glistening hunk of pork fat and bit into it with relish. Even through the phone, the sight made my stomach churn.

Furious, I typed a comment in the chat: [Stop eating! It's disgusting just watching you!]

She spotted my message and smirked triumphantly.

"Who do you think you are? You say stop, and I should stop? Show me some real power if you want me to listen."

The nausea clawed at me, unbearable. In desperation, I sent her several extravagant gifts, hoping she would quit.

Instead, she accepted my money with glee and pulled out a massive bowl of mayonnaise.

"Since you don't like fatty pork, I'll switch to something sweet."

Mayonnaise was pure oil and no different from the pork. She shoveled it into her mouth by the spoonful. I felt so sick I nearly coughed up blood.

[What the hell did you do to me? Why is it that you're the one eating, but I'm the one suffering?]

[Stop! Stop eating anything!]

My desperate comments only fueled her cruelty. The more I begged, the harder she laughed.

Agonizing pain ripped through my gut. With my last shred of strength, I dialed 911.

Thankfully, the ambulance arrived in time, dragging me back from death's door.

Just like in my previous life, the diagnosis was the same: acute pancreatitis caused by overeating.

The doctor studied my chart in astonishment. "You're so thin. How could you possibly eat this much?"

I said nothing. I signed for discharge immediately and headed straight for Tina's place.

The moment the door opened, I pressed a kitchen knife to her throat.

"Shirley, what are you doing? Calm down!" she stammered.

I glared at her, my patience gone. "I'm not here to waste words. Tell me the truth. Why is it that you eat, but I'm the one who suffers?"

Her eyes widened in feigned innocence. "Shirley, I don't understand what you're saying."

My grip on the knife tightened. "Don't play dumb. Talk!"

Her face drained of color. "O-okay, I'll talk, I'll talk—"

But instead of confessing, she screamed, "Nick, help me!"

I hadn't noticed Nick slip in behind me. He kicked me hard, knocking me to the floor. The knife was ripped from my hands.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he snapped.

Then, to my horror, he pulled out his phone and set up a livestream. One by one, he placed thirty hamburgers on the table.

"You claim that whenever Tina eats, the food transfers into your stomach? Fine. Let the livestream family be the judge. If you keep this up, I'll break up with you right here and now."

Viewers had no idea what was happening. The comments scrolled by in a frenzy.

Nick turned to the camera, explaining, "Hey fam, my girlfriend here is insane. She says everything Tina eats ends up in her stomach. Tonight, you'll be our witnesses. If she keeps acting out, I'll leave her."

Tina picked up a hamburger and shoved it into her mouth without hesitation.

Instantly, the crushing fullness struck me again. My stomach twisted in unbearable pain, far beyond its limits. My body collapsed, writhing in violent spasms on the floor.

The chat exploded.

[Is that girl for real?]

[Looks like she's faking it.]

[Slap her a couple times, she'll straighten up.]

Nick's gaze turned icy. He looked down at me and said coldly, "If you keep pretending, don't blame me for what happens next."