Reborn Before Finals I Let the Golden Students Destroy Themselves

"He's been kissing up to Samantha so obviously, and she doesn't even give him the time of day. Now that she's throwing a birthday party for Roger, he's totally losing it."

I froze, the realization hitting me like a thunderbolt—this was the night before the college entrance exam.

I pinched myself. Hard.

It hurt. But I was trembling—not from pain, but from sheer, overwhelming excitement.

I've actually been reborn.

Seeing me standing there with my head down, saying nothing, a few classmates who'd always been decent to me spoke up.

"Are we being too harsh? Daryl was just looking out for us..."

Roger let out a theatrical sigh.

"Daryl, I had no idea you hated me this much. Cursing everyone to bomb their exams? Come on. We're the Elite Track—you really think one birthday outing is going to tank our scores?"

Samantha immediately stepped in front of him, her voice dripping with contempt.

"Don't waste your concern on us. We're not like you—so terrified of a little test that you're running to the bathroom every five minutes. And then you blame your garbage scores on a few extra trips?"

She tossed her hair. "The college entrance exam is nothing. For geniuses like us, it's a breeze."

The whole class erupted in laughter.

My fists clenched. A dull ache spread through my chest.

During the placement exam in junior year, stress had wrecked my stomach. Every time I tried to focus, I'd need the bathroom. The constant interruptions destroyed my concentration, and I'd missed the cutoff for the Elite Track by a handful of points.

Afterward, I'd hidden in an empty study room, drowning in disappointment.

Samantha had found me there. She'd rushed in and thrown her arms around me, her voice soft with concern.

"I had my housekeeper make congee for you. You need to eat something. I knew you'd be hiding somewhere, beating yourself up over this." She'd squeezed my hand. "It's okay. One bad exam doesn't define you. There's always next time. I'll tutor you myself—and we'll get into the same university together..."

But the moment Roger transferred in, everything changed.

I took a deep breath and unclenched my fists.

Ignoring their laughter, I gathered my things and slung my bag over my shoulder.

"You're right. Since that's how it is, have fun tonight."

I didn't explode the way they expected. I didn't cry.

Their laughter died in their throats, the sport suddenly gone out of their mockery.

Someone shrugged and turned back to the group, enthusiasm rekindled. "Let's do the fruit wine—only three percent alcohol. Definitely won't affect the exam."

I let out a quiet scoff.

One glass of that bar's fruit wine could flatten a grown adult. Dad's hospital regularly admitted people with alcohol poisoning from that exact place.

In my past life, that was precisely why I'd begged them not to go.

But this time? I wasn't going to stop anyone.

I shouldered my bag and headed for the door.

But Samantha didn't look satisfied. If anything, her brow furrowed deeper as she watched me.

The moment I moved to leave, her hand shot out and locked around my wrist.

"No. You're coming with us."

The room went silent. Everyone stared at me in confusion.

"Why would he come? He'll just kill the vibe and bring everyone down."

Roger's expression shifted to concern—the practiced kind.

"What if Daryl comes tonight and bombs his exam tomorrow? He'll blame me for ruining his score. I can't deal with that kind of guilt."

His eyes were wary, guarded—like he was terrified I might actually take Samantha up on her offer.

And why wouldn't he be? If I tagged along, how was he supposed to get her tipsy and make his move?

Samantha let out a sharp laugh.

"Daryl's too clever for his own good. Don't you remember what happened during the Dragon Boat Festival break? The English teacher forgot to assign homework, and this one"—she jerked her chin at me—"actually called her to ask for worksheets. Then he texted every single one of you to make sure you knew. Ruined the entire holiday."

The classroom went dead quiet. The looks people gave me shifted—harder now, resentful.

I smiled, bitter and self-mocking.

Those worksheets were practice exams from the top prep school in the province. They'd predicted dozens of actual test questions the year before. The teacher had specifically requested them to help boost everyone's scores.