Military training kicked off the new semester as usual.
All freshmen needed sunscreen for outdoor drills and moisturizers for post-sun care.
Lily had a cheap sunblock, and she kept eyeing my hydration serum.

I spotted her staring from the corner of my eye.
Claire leaned in. “Sarah, isn’t that the $80 serum from that luxury brand?”
I nodded. “The latest formula. Absorbs instantly.”
“Can I try it?”
Smiling, I handed it over. “Keep this one—I’ve got another.”
Claire accepted happily.

Nearby, Lily turned red-eyed with envy, clutching her dollar-store cream.
Last life, I’d almost emptied that serum before tossing it.
She’d snatched it then, lecturing me about waste.
This time, I gave it all to Claire.

Let’s see if Lily dared confront Claire when the serum ran out.
Sure enough, Lily monitored the dwindling serum like a hawk.
When Claire finally trashed the empty bottle, Lily lunged — but I happened to be on trash duty that day. I snatched it and smashed it against the bin. Crack!
“Whoops—slipped,” I said.
Claire shrugged. “Garbage anyway.”
I left smirking at Lily’s gritted teeth.
After the military training ended, I ate exclusively at the cafeteria, never bringing food to the dorm. I also used the excuse of being a local commuter student and didn't keep anything in the dorm.
Starved of my leftovers, Lily targeted Claire.
Though initially patient, Claire snapped as the scavenging worsened. Her temper flared in front of me: “No boundaries! I’m switching dorms!”
This life, it’s my turn to smile sweetly. “Endure it. Just four years.”
Claire groaned but had no other choices. Local and shackled by strict parents, she was stuck following dorm rules.
She bottled her rage, tolerating Lily’s antics.
When it was perfect timing, I took action to revenge.
On the selected day, I returned to dorm carrying a sleek shoebox in evening.
Lily’s eyes gleamed. “Sarah! New shoes?”
“Wish it were,” I sighed, revealing a pair of exquisite leather shoes, one of which had a broken heel. “Tripped on stairs. Worthless now.”
I dashed downstairs before she could protest.
At the curb, as I handed them to a scrap collector, Lily shrieked: “STOP! Give those to me! You rich brats waste everything!”
Her yell drew a crowd.
I crossed my arms, smirking. Last life, she took my torn shirt this exact day.
“Why? They’re trash.”
Lily flushed purple. “A loose heel isn’t broken! Glue fixes it!”
Claire happened to arrive from the cafeteria, seeing this, scoffing. “Why scream? Her shoes, her choice.”
Lily burst into theatrical sobs. “Bullying me too, Claire? Those cost my family’s monthly rent! Doesn’t that hurt your conscience?”
Onlookers murmured judgment.
Claire crimsoned. “You’re insane!” She stormed off.
I watched Lily seize the shoes and slink away.
The next day at class, Lily limped in dramatically. All eyes fell on her feet—jam-packed into a pair of size-7 heels, toes bulging.
Claire snorted. “Scavenge all you want, but stuffing size-9 feet into 7s? Impressive.”
Snickers exploded as Lily flushed beet-red.
My clothes fit her decently in my past life, but these small size shoes I prepared for her were blatantly too small, making her look more ridiculous.
Predictably, the shoes split apart mid-walk, sole peeling off.
Rumor flew: She’d later raged at a cobbler who declared them unfixable—“Walk like that, they’ll shred every time.” He kicked her out.
The dorm roasted Lily for weeks. No more pity; just mockery.
Chuckling in my mind, I was about to launch Step Two of my revenge.
Unlike last life, Claire now saw Lily’s grimy greed clearly—and her tolerance had curdled to disgust.