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The Price of a Like Novel Cover

The Price of a Like

My roommate’s obsession with social media likes seemed harmless until her followers began suffering tragic fates. From a disfigured beauty queen to a disgraced scholar, those who interacted with her posts lost everything while she gained their beauty and intellect. After her rental ad cost me my family and my life, I have been reborn. Returning to the day she first begged for my engagement, I must navigate this supernatural mystery and prevent my gruesome future.
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Chapter 2

As I stood there, Vanessa leaned in with her phone, her wide eyes brimming with urgency. Instinctively, I took a step back.

"Lucy, this activity ends at six o'clock this evening," she said, her voice dripping with desperation. "I've gotten everyone else in the class to help, and I just need one more like to hit the target. Yours."

Her plea struck me like an unwanted tug on my sleeve, but I didn't hesitate in my response. "Vanessa, I'm sorry, but my phone's dead," I said flatly, shaking my head as though that settled the matter.

But Vanessa wasn't about to let it go. She advanced on me like a phantom from the abyss, her persistence unsettling. "I have a power bank! Here, use it!" Her voice trembled with urgency, her eyes glinting with a mix of insistence and something darker.

"Please, Lucy," she continued, layering her words with guilt. "150 dollars might not mean much to you, but to me, it's everything."

Her words wrapped themselves around me like chains. The sweat on my back had nothing to do with the heat of the room. "I really can't like it," I murmured, my discomfort plain.

Vanessa's eyes reddened, brimming with unshed tears. Around us, murmurs began to ripple through the crowd of onlookers.

"Is it really that big of a deal to just hit 'like'?"

"Wow, what a drama queen. 150 bucks probably means nothing to her. She doesn't get what it's like for us regular folks."

"I honestly don't get how someone like her ends up as student body president or gets a free pass into grad school."

"Some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouth, thinking they're royalty."

"Seriously, it's just a click. We're all classmates here. And it's just one little like, what's the harm?"

Their judgments came in waves, drowning me in their disdain. They cast their gazes upon me, filled with an unspoken demand: like the post, or face their wrath.

Vanessa sniffled, adding to the drama. "It'll only take a few seconds, Lucy. Please. After graduation, I won't have a dorm anymore. I don't have the luxury of going to grad school—I need this room to start my internship!"

Her performance was flawless, her voice trembling with grief, her words laden with pity. "My mother passed away when I was young," she added, her voice cracking. "Every penny counts for me."

The air grew thick with reproachful silence as all eyes turned to me, their weight like stones on my chest.

Then, as if on cue, my phone chimed with a notification.

Vanessa's head snapped toward the sound. "Oh, so your phone's not dead after all," she said with a triumphant sneer, plucking the device from my hands before I could react..

Gasps and murmurs erupted around us. "Just one like, Lucy. It won't kill you," someone sneered.

"Vanessa's from a poor family. Can't you have a little empathy?"

"Yeah, must be nice being born into privilege," another remarked, their tone soaked in mockery.

Their words cornered me, leaving no room for escape. My gaze darted around the room until it landed on the sports committee member, returning with a thermos of hot water. Inspiration struck.

"Fine, Vanessa," I relented. "I'll give you the like."

As I reached for my phone, I "accidentally" bumped into the sports committee member. The thermos tilted, spilling scalding water all over my hand and my phone.

The room froze as everyone stared. My skin flushed red from the burn, and my phone lay on the ground, its screen shattered and lifeless.

"I—I'm so sorry!" the committee member stammered, his face red with panic.

I smiled through the pain, shaking my head. "It's okay. It was my fault for not holding it properly," I said, feeling a weight lift off my chest.

"Are you sure you didn't burn yourself?" He was relieved and practically moved to tears. After all, this phone was the latest model—worth several months' worth of his living expenses.

This scene made the crowd falter. Whispers of guilt replaced their earlier judgment.

"Maybe we were too harsh on Lucy," someone murmured.

"She's really considerate. Not at all a spoiled brat," another added, their tone softer now.

I glanced at my phone, now showing a black screen, and sighed in relief.

"I'm sorry, Vanessa," I said, turning to Vanessa. "I can't give you the like. This rental agency is really sketchy. You're a girl—what if you get tricked and taken to some countryside village?"

I added suddenly, "Who offers that many discounts on rent, anyway? What's your internship place? Where are you planning to rent?"

I stared intently at Vanessa, noticing her face pale slightly when I mentioned the countryside.

Clearly, Vanessa felt guilty, but she only made up something vague about a small neighborhood near our school.

"But tell you what—if you're looking for a safe place to stay, I actually own a unit in that neighborhood you mentioned. Here are the keys. You can have it at the same discount you were trying to earn. Consider it my way of helping you out," I said.

It dawned on everyone—this wasn't just some small gift.

Besides, for a girl, safety was the most important.

"Wow, Lucy's really thoughtful. She's beautiful and kind-hearted. I apologize for my earlier rudeness," someone remarked.

"Vanessa's so lucky," another chimed in.

Everyone turned their support toward me, offering sincere praise.

Vanessa accepted the keys I handed her with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you, Lucy," she said, her voice strained.

I nodded, slipping out of the room with an apology about needing to get my phone repaired. As the door closed behind me, I slipped a single strand of Vanessa's hair into my pocket without anyone noticing.

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