Chapter 6: Lost and Found in the Crowd

I took advantage of the chaos to quietly kick the lucky pendant onto the ground.

My heart pounded as I nudged it under a rack with my shoe. Please, let this work.

After picking up the materials, I cried out:

“Oh no, where’s my lucky pendant? Was it stolen?”

I pitched my voice high, drawing a few glances from other shoppers. I needed witnesses.

My brother’s pupils instantly shrank to pinpoints, his hand on the hatchet, teeth clenched.

He looked ready to explode, the mask slipping. I braced myself.

“Did you do that on purpose?”

His voice was low, dangerous. I felt the threat in every word.

Facing his accusation, I met his eyes, annoyed.

I let my irritation show. “Are you serious right now? Why would I lose it on purpose? Hurry up and help me look!”

I spun in place, pretending to search, heart racing. I couldn’t let him see my fear.

After snapping at him, I pretended to search everywhere. My hands shook, but I kept moving.

I checked under shelves, behind displays, anywhere I could think of. I prayed he wouldn’t find it.

I knew by now, the lucky pendant had already been picked up. I was more than halfway to escaping my tragic fate!

For the first time, hope flickered in my chest. Maybe I could do this. My breath caught, heart thudding.

But unexpectedly, the next second, my brother, as if he had GPS, rushed out of the bookstore!

He moved like a bloodhound on a scent, eyes locked on a target. I froze, watching him.

He grabbed a middle-aged man!

There was a brief scuffle, voices raised in confusion. People stared.

And took the lucky pendant from his pocket.

He held it up triumphantly, ignoring the man’s protests. My hope crumbled.

The man kept explaining he’d just found it on the ground.

He looked bewildered, hands raised in surrender. My brother ignored him.

My brother turned back to me coldly, and I shivered—how could I forget he had a system? For something so important, he could easily track it.

He stalked back toward me, pendant swinging from his fist. My stomach dropped.

Even when I threw it into the pigsty, he must’ve found it right away.

No matter what I did, he was always one step ahead. The system made him unstoppable.

“Bro, so you really don’t like it.” My brother stood menacingly in front of me.

His voice was soft, but his eyes were full of venom. The threat was real.

I steeled myself, shoved him hard, and bolted outside.

Adrenaline surged through me. I ran like hell, not caring who saw. I just needed to get away.

Go ahead—try killing me in public!

Let everyone see what you really are. I’d expose him if I could.

The glass door of the bookstore slammed loudly behind me. I knocked over the magazine rack at the entrance; the clatter instantly stirred up the crowd.

People shouted, papers flew everywhere. I kept running. My lungs burned.

Behind me came my brother’s furious roar, mixed with my foster mother’s shrill curses—

I heard her voice before I saw her, shrill and furious.

Somehow, she’d also come to town and was now charging from the street corner with a broomstick.

She swung the broom like a weapon, face red with rage. I ducked.

“Catch that kid! He’s a thief!” My brother’s shout made a few strong men instinctively try to stop me.

A couple of burly men stepped forward, blocking my path. I ducked and weaved, desperate. My heart raced.

I dodged, and my SAT admission ticket flew from my pocket, landing in a pile of spilled sugar packets.

I watched it flutter down, heart sinking. Without it, I was doomed. Panic clawed at me.

Suddenly, memories of my previous tragic life flashed before me.

The fear, the helplessness—it all came rushing back. I could taste it.

The same despair. The same suffocating sense of being trapped. I was back in that nightmare.

I could barely breathe, panic clawing at my throat. I stumbled forward.

Turning into a narrow alley, I didn’t notice what was ahead and ran straight into a clothesline.

The rope snapped against my neck, knocking the air out of me. I stumbled, vision swimming. My knees buckled.

I gasped, clutching at my throat, fighting to stay upright. The world spun.

In a daze, I heard footsteps approaching. Gritting my teeth, I scrambled over a low wall and tumbled into a trash barrel that reeked of sour rot.

I landed hard, the stench making my eyes water. I gagged, but forced myself to stay quiet. I couldn’t risk being found.

The stench flooded my nose. I covered my mouth and nose, listening to my brother’s curses echoing in the alley.

Their voices bounced off the brick walls, growing fainter as they searched for me. I stayed still.

“Run! Let’s see how far you can go!”

His words echoed, mocking. I clenched my fists.

Then my foster father’s grumbling voice: “How could you let him get away!”

He sounded more annoyed than worried, as if I were just some lost farm calf—easy to catch, not worth the trouble.

“It’s confirmed—he’s reborn with memories! That’s why he keeps trying to lose the swap pendant!”

The truth was out. They knew everything. I was out of moves.

My brother cursed, then continued:

“No matter. He dropped his admission ticket. Without it, how can he take the SATs?”

His voice was smug, sure of his victory. I bit my lip, furious.

“His future doesn’t matter. But you, son—didn’t you say you already set the time with the system? Without him, who will you swap with?”

Mom’s voice was sharp, urgent. I heard the edge in it.

My brother was calm, even sneering. “He thinks dropping the pendant now will help? After wearing it for three years, the swap pendant has already locked onto his aura.”

He sounded almost bored, like this was all beneath him. My blood ran cold.

“Before the set time comes, if I want to swap, I can do it anytime!”

The words sent ice down my spine. There was no escape. I was his prisoner.

Hearing this, I broke out in a cold sweat.

I hugged my knees to my chest, shivering. The trash barrel felt like a coffin. I was trapped.

Just losing my admission ticket was enough to erase ten years of hard work.

All those nights studying by flashlight, gone in an instant. I wanted to scream.

Even scarier was what my brother said: “I can swap anytime I want.”

He could steal my life whenever he pleased. I was never safe. I was a target.

Even if I survived today, in the future—whether it was the SATs or work—as long as I was good enough, the swap could happen anytime.

There was no finish line, no safe harbor. I’d be running forever. The thought made me sick.

Curled up in the cramped trash barrel, the surrounding darkness seemed to swallow me whole.

I pressed my forehead to my knees, breathing in the stink, fighting back tears. My chest ached.

Reborn once, yet still unable to escape having my life stolen—this sense of helplessness nearly suffocated me.

I felt like I was drowning, every breath a struggle. Was this all there was?