Lilith let out a long, heavy sigh, her mind consumed by the strangeness of everything that had unfolded. She tossed and turned in bed, unable to find rest. The clock ticked on, and despite the late hour, sleep eluded her. The quiet night was interrupted by a soft yet insistent knock on her door. “Miss Jones, are you okay?” came the gentle voice from outside. It was Winifred Buckley, the woman who had been looking after her. Lilith waved her hand dismissively, but quickly realized Winifred couldn’t see the gesture through the door. She cleared her throat and called out instead, “I’m fine, Winifred. You can go back to bed.” Relief was evident in Winifred’s voice as she assured Lilith that if she needed anything, she should just call. The sound of her retreating footsteps grew fainter until all was silent again. Left alone with her swirling thoughts, Lilith sank deeper into her confusion. No matter how hard she tried to reason through it, there was no clear answer to the strange, almost otherworldly ability she had developed. She was just a background character in a story, a mere bystander with no significance, so how could she possibly understand this new power? But there was no use dwelling on it now. She couldn’t change what had already happened, so she figured she might as well accept it for what it was. Besides, there were more pressing matters at hand. The scorching heat of late June had arrived, along with the weight of looming exams. The air was filled with the constant buzzing of cicadas, their relentless chorus seemingly foretelling something important. Before leaving for the exam, Lilith checked and rechecked her belongings: ID, admission ticket, pencils, erasers—all carefully packed into a clear plastic bag. She wasn’t going to risk forgetting anything, especially something as crucial as this exam. Inside the examination hall, she settled into her seat, posture straight, ready to face whatever came. As the papers were distributed, she worked through the questions with surprising ease, finishing them faster than expected. Some of the questions even seemed oddly familiar, like fragments of forgotten memories stirring to life. It wasn’t the first time she’d sat for an exam, but it was certainly the first time she’d approached it with such confidence. In her previous life, her exam scores had been dismal, abysmally low. Upon reflecting, she realized that many of the answers were within her grasp, yet during the actual test, her mind had gone completely blank, resulting in strange, careless mistakes. Halfway through the exam, a familiar wave of fatigue and discomfort began to overtake her. She had barely completed a third of the test, yet the dizziness was overwhelming. She clenched her jaw, trying to fight off the nausea that seemed to be creeping up. Her palms began to sweat, and her hands shook with each movement. Without warning, her pencil slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a loud thud—a sound that almost felt like a cruel reminder of her past failures. The proctor, noticing her struggle, approached gently, asking if she was alright. Lilith weakly waved her hand to brush it off, her head dropping onto the desk in exhaustion. The sunlight poured in through the windows, casting an almost divine glow on the heads of the students. Lilith sat in the corner, barely touched by the rays, as the cold air from the air conditioning cut through the stifling heat, chilling her to the bone. With great effort, she bent down to pick up the pencil, but after only a few words, her strength faltered, and the pencil fell once again, leaving a dark smudge on the pristine white paper. The clock on the wall ticked away relentlessly, its sound echoing in her ears like a constant reminder of the passing time. Lilith glanced up, her brow furrowing ever so slightly. She wasn’t surprised by this—nor was she frightened. It felt like a repeat of the last time. The same sequence of events, unfolding once more. When the final bell rang to signal the end of the exam, the heat of the day was still oppressive, and the cicadas’ song continued in the background, louder than ever. Lilith remembered how the story went down in her past life. Her anxiety from getting poor grades had been so overwhelming that, distracted, she had tripped as she left the school gate, stumbling hard to the ground. Blood had stained her legs, and she had limped her way to the car, heading straight for the hospital to get stitches. The following summer, she had stayed home to recover, spending weeks nursing her wounds. Eventually, they healed, but she was left with a permanent scar as a reminder. During that time, she had often found herself sitting in solitude, whether in her bed or in a wheelchair. Outside, she could hear the faint sounds of laughter and conversation from the garden, but after a week, even those sounds stopped. Her family had gone abroad to a small island for a vacation. She had heard that it was a beautiful, peaceful place with perfect weather—a place that seemed ideal for a fresh start. Lilith had developed a habit of sitting by the window each day, allowing herself to be enveloped by the gentle breeze and the refreshing scent of the plants. Outside, the world was alive with noise and activity—things that belonged to everyone else but her. Lilith had felt like an outsider in her own life. She had been nothing more than a passing presence, a faint memory of a person in the house. Her thoughts wandered back to her past life, to all the pain and confusion she had endured. Her gaze drifted to the clock on the wall. There were only thirty minutes left in her last exam, yet the feeling of unease and discomfort still clung to her, preventing her from moving forward with the task at hand. Even the simplest thoughts seemed out of reach, as if they were luxuries she couldn’t afford. Why am I trapped in this cycle, repeating the same mistakes? Is it even possible to break free and have a future that’s different from the past? What am I supposed to do? Lilith’s mind, dulled by the heaviness of her feelings, could only grasp at the most basic instincts. In a desperate moment, she bit down on her wrist, feeling the sharp pain as her teeth dug into the fragile skin. The metallic taste of blood flooded her mouth, and for a brief moment, the storm of discomfort inside her faded. She picked up her pen and pushed herself to continue the test. Minutes passed, but the unbearable feeling returned, stronger than before. She bit down on her wrist once more, and blood trickled down her arm. But with the pain came a sense of clarity. She forced herself to focus, answering the questions one after the other. But soon, the pain overwhelmed her again, a tide too strong to fight. The sharp pain in her wrist no longer gave her the strength to continue. She dropped her pen, waiting for time to crawl by as her mind drifted into a haze. When the bell rang, signaling the end of the exam, Lilith rushed to the bathroom. The nausea hit her hard, and she fought to keep her stomach from emptying itself. It took a few long minutes for the chill in her body to pass, for her senses to return to normal. While the others around her celebrated the end of the exam, thrilled by the prospect of summer and fresh opportunities, Lilith’s expression remained empty. She moved slowly, her steps sluggish, the memory of her fall in her past life fresh in her mind. This time, she was careful, making sure to avoid another stumble. She reached the car without a mishap. Back home, Lilith spent the day lying in bed, bored and restless. In search of something to do, she began visiting the study every day to read. The study was enormous, overflowing with books—more like half of a grand library. There were rare and precious models stored here, items too valuable to be sold, gifted by those eager to impress the Joneses. While reading, Lilith discovered that the rest of the family had planned a trip to a seaside island. The wind howled outside, rattling the glass of the window as she turned the pages of her book. She couldn’t ignore the pang of being abandoned, but in her past life, she had remained composed, telling herself it was because of her leg injury. Traveling with her would have been a hassle—who would want to care for someone who had trouble moving around on a trip? With that reasoning, Lilith had convinced herself that it made sense for her family to leave her behind. But now, she hadn’t gotten hurt, and there was no reason for anyone to worry about her. Still, they hadn’t included her in their plans. Perhaps no justification was needed. Her birth, her very existence, was simply a burden to them.