Ficorpio
Chapter 1
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First Edition
In my previous life, I was cyberbullied for dyeing my hair, which eventually led to depression and suicide.
But my death failed to awaken the conscience of those who started it all.
I regret it.
So, when I was given a second chance and discovered I had the ability to replicate and transfer misfortune,
A plan gradually took shape in my mind, aimed at the friend and boyfriend who betrayed me…
1
“Recently, a man in our city was harassed and assaulted by several people at a nearby table while drinking late at night.”
Surveillance footage from the scene shows that a man from the neighboring table initiated the confrontation, which began as a verbal argument with the victim before escalating into a physical altercation.
The suspects have been taken into custody.
As I looked at the photo in the news alert on my phone—a face beaten to a bloody pulp—I felt not a shred of sympathy.
Instead, a wave of vengeful satisfaction washed over me.
It wasn’t that I was twisted; he simply deserved it.
Because the same thing had happened to me just before him.
But times were different now. This time, fate had given me a second chance.
Everything I endured in my past life, I will repay in full!
2
Slap!
The moment I opened my eyes, I slapped the face of my best friend, who had been keeping vigil by my hospital bed.
She was stunned, but not because I had suddenly hit her.
She was shocked that I had woken up so suddenly.
Especially at the very moment she thought I was about to die and chose to come clean.
To be honest, I never expected to find myself in this situation, but I had indeed been reborn.
Just three months ago, I received my doctoral diploma from the university.
Chapter 2
Out of sheer joy and as a reward for my hard work,
I made a bold decision—to dye my hair my favorite shade of ice blue.
The weather was perfect that day. I posted a photo on social media, holding my certificate with a big smile.
But I never imagined that my hair and smile, as if giving off the scent of blood, would attract a pack of “hyenas” eager to tear me apart.
“Anyone who dyes their hair that color clearly has questionable judgment.”
“And she works in education? Who would trust their children to someone like her?”
“I have a video. Anyone interested?”
Many people spoke up in my defense, but they were no match for the flood of speculation and rumors.
The voices of reason were quickly drowned out, replaced by endless insults and harassment.
During that time, no matter where I went, I could feel people pointing fingers and hear hushed whispers around me.
Some even had the nerve to approach me with their phones, asking with ill intent,
“How much for a night with you?”
I was on the verge of breaking down, running back and forth between the police station and the courthouse day after day.
But the results were negligible.
The individual who spent every day spreading malicious rumors about me online, harassing me with alternate accounts even after I blocked them,was only given a symbolic fine.
After that, the slander became even more brazen.
I poured out my frustrations to my boyfriend of many years, hoping for even a shred of comfort.
Little did I know his words would strike me like a bolt from the blue.
“It’s your own fault for dressing inappropriately and dyeing your hair that color. You deserve the criticism.”
I did my best to ignore the trolls and went out to eat and unwind with friends.
But then, a man who was completely drunk slung his arm over my shoulder.
“Hey pretty girl, let’s exchange contact info.”
3
I was terrified and knew better than to provoke someone like him.
Just as I was about to pull out my phone, my best friend, Jasmine, spoke up before I could.
Chapter 3
“Give what? Take a good look at yourself in the mirror. Do you even deserve someone like our Victoria?”
Her words infuriated the man, and I was struck hard across the face.
Our friends couldn’t just stand by and had to step in to help.
A scuffle broke out between me, the burly man, and his friends.
Amid the chaos, I heard Jasmine’s panicked voice.
“Hold on, I’m going to call the police.”
Then, a solid wooden stool came crashing down on my back.
I heard a dull cracking sound, unsure whether it came from the stool or my bones.
Lying on the ground, I could hear the curses and cries around me, while the sticky sensation on my back made me nauseous.
Everything went dark, and I passed out.
When I woke up again, I found I couldn’t see or speak.
I could barely make out what the nurses were saying.
Fortunately, the person who injured me was sent to prison, and my friends’ injuries weren’t too serious.
Relatives visited me every day.
But more often than not, all that accompanied me was the sound of soft sobbing.
Just as I was starting to feel like I was getting better, Jasmine, who hadn’t visited in a long time, suddenly showed up at the hospital to see me.
That’s when I found out someone had filmed me eating at the restaurant that day and posted the video online.
Whenever we were alone, she would read the trolls’ comments to me.
“Isn’t that the girl who was cyberbullied for dyeing her hair a while back?”
Someone recognized me.
“Oh, it’s her. No wonder. After all, these ‘social butterflies’ take pride in attracting attention.”
Her friends don’t seem like bad people either. You really can’t judge a book by its cover.
“Don’t say that. Maybe she just has poor judgment in friends? Honestly, the problem lies with this ‘hair-dyeing sister.’ A few bad apples spoil the bunch. People like her are the worst.”
Something inside me snapped with an audible crack.
Despite Jasmine’s tireless efforts day after day, my condition took a turn for the worse.