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... in this school. Not in this classroom. Not in this world filled with people who talk too much, laugh too loud, and think that GPA determines intelligence. They all follow the same predictable routine—wake up, show up, and pretend their lives mean something.

I watch them from my seat at the back of the class, hood up, arms crossed, drowning in the noise of their pointless conversations. I blend into the shadows, unnoticed but never unfelt. They know I'm here. Even if they don't look at me ...

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In her previous life, she died of hatred in a gray robe.

The former cannon fodder was reborn, opened the inheritance of the mysterious jade pendant, washed out the top meridians, and rose to the top in red.

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God knows when this man was taken over by her and hurriedly threw it away. “Don’t make trouble, madam, go home, you are the oldest in the family.”

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