r/AllAboutNovels

As the heavy door of Ashwood Mental Hospital creaked open, a pale, slender woman stepped out. She was Audrey Patel. She covered her aching stomach and dragged her feet to walk, while the murmurs behind her 

followed like shadows. 

Someone whispered, “Mr. Patel’s such a saint. He still sticks with her after she went nuts and hurt others with a knife.” 

Another person said bitterly, “If my wife pulled a stunt like that, I’d kick her out the same day. She’s a total disgrace to Mr. Patel.” 

Someone else chimed in, “If Ms. Patterson’s father hadn’t passed away, and she hadn’t moved in with her uncle, she would’ve married Mr. Patel ages ago. Audrey would never have had the chance.” 

Audrey squinted against the harsh light and gave a bitter little smile. 

Everyone knew the story. She was an orphan girl from some no–name town who somehow married Clayton Patel, a big–shot lawyer with a spotless image. People all said she won the lottery. 

But now, with a reputation for being violent and unstable, fired from her job and fresh out of a mental hospital, she looked even more out of place next to Clayton. 

Audrey thought bitterly, ‘They all think I don’t deserve him. Funny thing is, the one who stuck me in that hellhole and slapped that label on me was my perfect husband himself!’ 

It was July. The sun blazed down, but Audrey felt chilly all over, especially her heart. 

Ashwood had a glossy cover story–something about correcting troubled youth and improving their mental state. But what went on inside was a nightmare. 

1/6 

8:50 pm DDD 

Chapter 1 

20 

Audrey, a 23–year–old grown woman, had been locked in there for a month because her husband claimed she was a danger and needed to have her mind straightened out. 

During the past month, she was punished, starved, locked in pitch–black isolation—until she cracked, until she agreed she was wrong and promised 

to change. 

Now, standing outside, breathing free air again, she watched Clayton hang up a call. His handsome face twisted with irritation. 

“Zoe’s ran a bath for you. Let’s go home and wash off the bad luck,” Clayton said to Audrey. 

Audrey dodged the hand he reached toward her shoulder. 

Clayton was always well–groomed with tailored suits and expensive cologne. But today, he didn’t smell like his usual scent. Instead, he reeked of something sickly sweet, like overripe fruit. That scent made Audrey sick. 

Ignoring Clayton’s grim face, Audrey pulled open the passenger–side door and got in. 

driver, who’d already opened the back door, glanced at Clayton in 

nfusion. 

Clayton watched her, his lips pressed tight. He thought she was clearly still sulking after a month of confinement. He figured she wasn’t used to that kind of strict environment, so she threw a tantrum. 

Though he had his reasons, he still went too far to send her in against her will. So, for now, he didn’t blame her for her little temper. 

He sat in the back seat. The driver closed the door and started the car. 

Audrey turned to the window and closed her eyes. The whole thing a month ago appeared in her mind. 

2/6 

8:50 pm DDD. 

Chapter 1 

It was her birthday that day. Clayton brought home a special guest–his childhood friend, Valerie Patterson, and her three–year–old daughter, 

Luna Patterson. 

While Clayton went to get the cake, Valerie grabbed a fruit knife and pressed it to her wrist, threatening to hurt herself if Audrey didn’t give Clayton back to her. 

Tears streamed down Valerie’s face as she said she and Clayton were meant to be, that she came back to fix what they once lost. 

Audrey lunged to stop Valerie and tried to snatch the knife just as Clayton walked in. 

+20) 

Valerie stumbled into Clayton’s arms, sobbing like she’d just survived a war. “Audrey, please don’t hurt Luna. Clayton and I haven’t done anything. You’re getting it all wrong.” 

Audrey stood frozen with the knife still in hand, her mind blanking out. 

Valerie, still clinging to Clayton, glanced up at Audrey with a smug glint in her eyes. “Clayton only let us move into your house ‘cause we had nowhere else to go. 

“I swear I’ll pay back every penny he lent to us. Just don’t scare my baby, okay? She’s got autism.” 

Clayton wrapped his arms around Valerie and Luna and shot a cold stare at Audrey. “Valerie’s hands are for painting. How could you hurt her?” 

Little Luna, who watched the whole thing, just curled up tighter in Clayton’s arms, shaking like a leaf. 

Audrey let out a dry laugh, more from rage than amusement. 

She thought to herself, ‘So that’s her game. She used my birthday party to air out her affair with Clayton. Either I suck it up and pretend my 

husband’s got no side piece, or I pack my bags and quit the game! 

3/6 

8:50 pm DD 

Chapter 1 

Audrey turned to Clayton, her voice firm. “Believe it or not, she cut 

herself.” 

“No way,” Clayton shot back without missing a beat. 

He was convinced no one knew Valerie’s talent with a paintbrush better than he did. She would rather die than damage her hands. No chance she’d hurt herself just to frame Audrey. 

20 

Audrey scoffed and pointed straight at Valerie. “Then tell me, why did you let them live in the house I bought and even gave them money? You’re keeping her and her kid on the side, and I’m supposed to just be cool with it?” 

Clayton’s colleagues and a couple of his friends were right behind him. Being embarrassed like that in front of everyone clearly rattled him. 

“My hand… Clayton, it hurts,” Valerie whimpered, holding out her bleeding wrist, swaying like she was about to faint. 

Guilt flashed across Clayton’s face, but it was gone in a blink, replaced by anger. He barked at his assistant, “My wife has violent tendencies. Send her to Ashwood Mental Hospital.” 

Thinking back on it, Audrey put on a cold smile, sneering, ‘To protect that woman’s reputation, my husband threw me into that filthy place! 

Clayton must’ve caught that mocking look on her face, because for once, he tried to explain himself, “I sent you to Ashwood to keep things from getting worse. You scared Luna. 

“She had a fever for days. They’ve had a hard time. You shouldn’t trash Valerie like that.” 

Audrey opened her eyes, her gaze turning icy. “I picked the house. I pay the mortgage. They’re living in it and spending money from MY husband. Yeah, clearly I screwed up. I should’ve been more generous, huh?” 

4/6 

8:50 pm DDDD. 

Chapter 1 

Clayton took a deep breath and said, “Vally doesn’t blame you, She’s already dropped the charges. It won’t affect you.” 

Audrey sneered, thinking, ‘Won’t affect me? Due to my so–called violent tendencies you pinned on me, I lost my job three days after staying at Ashwood.‘ 

620 

Clayton and Valerie went way back. Years ago, both Valerie and Clayton’s fathers got sick. Valerie’s father gave up his shot at treatment and donated his kidney to save Clayton’s father. 

After that, Valerie and her mother moved out of town to live with her uncle. The night she turned up again, she was on the run. She was beaten by her husband, so she took her daughter to leave. 

Clayton just happened to be on a business trip in that exact city. He swooped in like a hero, took on Valerie’s divorce case, and brought her and her daughter back to Ironhaven. 

The car slowly rolled into Hightower Homes. Audrey didn’t wait for it to stop but opened the door, got out, and headed straight for the elevator without a glance back. 

She took a long shower and changed into clean clothes. 

When she came out, Zoe was carrying dishes from the kitchen. She said with a smile, “Dinner’s almost ready, ma’am. Mr. Patel picked all your favorites.” 

Clayton was on the couch going through some documents. He looked up over the rim of his gold–rimmed glasses and said, “Dry your hair first. I’ll wait to eat with you.” 

Anyone walking in might’ve thought he was the picture of a devoted husband, setting aside legal briefs to dine with his wife. 

5/6 

8:50 pm DD D 

Chapter 1 

But Audrey knew this was just his usual trick: slap you across the face and then hand you a candy. 

Clayton took off his glasses and walked to the dining table. Pulling out a chair, he said, “It’s a bit late today. I’ll have Zoe buy your favorite fish 

tomorrow.” 

Audrey sat down without a word and picked up her fork. 

Clayton was good at keeping his emotions locked up and hardly ever spoke more than necessary. Most of the time when they were together, Audrey always babbled him with some online gossip just to fill the silence. 

Each time, Audrey would laugh out loud, yet Clayton was just calm and would sometimes give her a look to remind her of being composed. 

Now, Audrey didn’t even look at him. Worse, when he tried to serve her some food, she just picked it up and tossed it back onto the plate. 

The head steward's slap came hard enough to turn my face, sending me to my knees on the cold marble, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

For a second, the side hall went quiet-until Hailey's sharp laughter broke the silence.

"Look at you, trash," she taunted, stepping close enough for her heavy perfume to make me choke. "Kneeling on the floor, right where you belong."

I slowly turned my face back toward her.

Hailey stood in the center of the servants' corridor wearing a silver ceremonial gown that probably cost more than everything I had owned in my entire life. Diamonds glittered at her throat. Her dark hair had been arranged in polished curls, and not one person in the hall dared tell her how ridiculous she looked.

Behind her, servants carried flowers, wine, and polished silver toward the grand hall. Everyone was preparing for her brother's ascension ceremony

In my last life, my husband fell for a college girl.

I went crazy with jealousy. I tried everything to break them apart.

But I lost.

He destroyed my family... just to divorce me and marry her.

I couldn't accept it.

So I jumped off a building.

And he?

He looked at my body— with disgust.

"Couldn't you die somewhere else? You're ruining my view."

...

When I opened my eyes again, I was back— One month before he fell for her.

So this time, I went to where she worked. Watched her life like a stalker.

I needed to know—

What kind of girl... stole the man I loved for ten years.

In my last life, I never even met her.

All I had was a name... and a few photos.

I lost everything.

And my rival?

She never even showed her face.

--

The streets in Ardovelle were busy—cars and crowds everywhere.

I'd been sitting in a corner of a café called Déjà Vu for two hours already, facing the counter.

A young woman in a sky-blue apron was busy making drinks.

She was around 1.6 meters, probably less than forty-five kilos. Fair skin, always had a smile on her face. Her thick, dark hair was tied up in a high ponytail, and when she smiled, her eyes turned into crescent shapes that lit up the whole room.

“Ma’am, would you like a refill?”

She walked over with a bright smile.

How awkward. I’d been so lost staring at her that I completely zoned out. Good thing I was a woman, or someone might’ve thought I was some kind of creep.

“Sure. Still black,” I smiled politely, my voice giving nothing away.

Soon, she set another bitter black coffee on the table in front of me. But instead of leaving right away, she hesitated for a second before getting a little nosy.

“Ma’am, you’ve already had two cups of black coffee. I know it helps keep you awake, but drinking too much isn’t good for you. Maybe... you could save the next one for another time?”

She was kind and outgoing, her voice crisp and brisk, like wind chimes—pleasant to the ear.

I glanced at the black coffee, then stood up, purse in hand.

“Okay. Check, please.”

She beamed like she was glad I’d taken her advice.

I paid without a word and left the café quickly.

“Mrs. Crowe.”

The driver, Parker Ellis, respectfully nodded at me and opened the car door.

“Home.”

The car pulled off smoothly. I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes, but my mind kept drifting back to the young woman at the café.

That was Lydia Fairburn.

The woman Preston Crowe was so set on divorcing me for one year from now, even though it meant burning every bridge with his family.

I hadn’t expected the first thing I did after being reborn was to go to her workplace and watch her like some kind of creep.

It was just... I was curious.

I wanted to know what kind of woman took away the man I’d loved for ten years.

In my past life, I never even met her. Preston kept her so protected, like she was the most precious thing in the world. All I had was a name and a few photos.

I lost everything, and my opponent never had to show her face.

Young, beautiful, innocent, kind, cheerful...

All those nice words fit her perfectly.

Her only flaw was her humble background, which created a huge gap between her status and Preston’s.

Just then, Parker broke the silence.

“Mrs. Crowe, today is your and Mr. Crowe’s anniversary.”

I opened my eyes, feeling dazed for a second.

Come to think of it, it had been five years since I married Preston.

Every anniversary, I’d get busy all day, preparing a candlelit dinner and a gift for him.

I was twenty-seven this year, and he was twenty-nine.

“I know.” I rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling my head throb a little. “You don’t have to remind me.”

Parker probably said that because he’d sensed something off about me this year.

But why was I always the one putting in the effort?

Why did I have to love Preston?

I’d thought about this before dying in my past life.

For Preston, I ended up dying a tragic death, my family destroyed.

While I was lost in thought, Parker pulled up outside the villa Preston and I shared.

To my surprise, I saw Preston’s car.

He was home.

My feelings were complicated.

Now I’d come back from the dead, what kind of expression was I supposed to put on when I saw the person who caused my downfall?

I thought I’d hate Preston.

After all, for another woman, he’d cornered me—his wife of five years.

He’d even driven my parents to their deaths, even though they’d treated him like their own son.

He practically wiped out my whole family.

But now that I was actually seeing him, the hatred wasn’t as strong as I’d expected.

What was left was mostly just acceptance.

In my past life, Preston gave me a chance.

He said we could end the marriage peacefully, and to make it up to me, he’d give me some shares of the Crowe Group—enough to set me up for life.

But I refused.

I was so bitter.

After ten years, I still couldn’t make him love me even a little, yet another woman spent only one year making him fall head over heels.

How was I supposed to accept it?

So I tried everything to win him back.

But step by step, it escalated—from a rift, to a standoff, to a point where only one of us could walk away alive.

This time, none of that had happened yet.

Instead of wasting my energy hating him, I’d rather change the fate that left me a tragedy.

“Why are you standing there?”

Preston sat on the sofa in the living room, his long legs casually crossed. The cigarette between his fingers had burned down. He stubbed it out in the ashtray with practiced ease, then glanced up at me with the same indifference he always had.

The day we married, he told me bluntly that we were at most roommates, that our marriage was basically a partnership, that he felt nothing toward me.

“Nothing. Just surprised to see you home.”

I bent down to change into slippers.

They were Hermès, elephant gray, simple design, understated color.

Comfortable—probably the only thing they had going for them.

Then Lydia in the blue apron popped back into my mind.

Right—there was a little red flower smiley face pinned to her apron.

None of the other staff had that.

Then I thought about my clothes—all expensive and dull.

Simple as always.

Boring as always.

Suddenly, I found those slippers repulsive.

I kicked them off and walked into the living room barefoot.

Preston noticed. He frowned slightly, a hint of surprise flickering across his eyes.

“You’re not wearing your slippers?”

“No. Don’t feel like it.”

I answered flatly, sitting down across from him.

“That’s rare. Who got under your skin?”

He actually chuckled, and his tone was light—both were probably a first.

I wanted to say, “Your future soulmate,” but I held back.

Instead, I looked down at my pale feet.

Because I was so thin, they looked a little bony.

Lydia was different.

She was thin, too, but her skin was firm and healthy.

Me?

I was practically skin and bones.

Five years of a lonely marriage had done a number on me.

I had no appetite, so I kept losing weight, and now I looked like a skeleton.

“Preston,” I said.

“Yeah?”

He was on his phone, not bothering to look up.

My gaze lifted from my feet to him, my voice a little hoarse.

“I want a divorce.”

He scoffed.

Tossing his phone onto the sofa, he looked at me, his gaze familiar—cold and indifferent.

“What are you playing at this time, Bianca?”

“I mean it.”

I sat up straight and met Preston’s intense gaze without flinching.

“It’s been five years. You’re not going to fall for me anyway. Let’s just cut each other some slack.”

In a month, there’d be a big business conference in Ardovelle.

Preston would meet Lydia there.

It would be love at first sight for him, and he’d stop at nothing to get her.

What an epic love story.

No way I was sticking around to be the disposable side character.

In my past life, I did everything I wanted to do, could do, and should do.

And I saw how it ended.

This time, I wasn’t going to make a fool of myself or drag my family into the abyss again.

I decided to step away before Preston met Lydia.

I decided to remove myself from the picture before their rocky journey even began.

"Is this Dr. Viv Shaw? My son was in an accident! You're his only chance!"
The second I heard that voice on the phone, I froze.
Five years ago, same voice: "Your hand for your brother's future. Fair trade."
That day, he grabbed my arm and shoved my right hand behind the door.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Every time that door slammed, my hand got more mangled.
Till I finally dropped that USB drive with all the proof.
Mom stood there the whole time, hands clamped over her ears, blocking out my screams:
"Your dad's doing this for the family! What good does ruining your brother do you?!"
By the time I got to the hospital, it was too late to fix.
After that, I couldn't hold a scalpel again.
"Dr. Shaw? Dr. Shaw? Please! I'm begging you! Save my son! I'll pay anything!"
I used my left hand to hold down my shaking right.
Said it slow:
"Yeah, I'm Viv Shaw."
"But I can't help."

After I hung up, the lab went dead quiet.

Dr. Caleb Quinn, director of the neurosurgery research center who'd come to observe—

Looked at my pale face, expression heavy.

My student Rita broke the silence first.

"You okay, Dr. Shaw?"

I shook my head.

Then the door slid open.

Ken Moss—from the medical admin office—came in fast.

"Viv, City General just sent an emergency consult."

"Car crash. Guy's twenty-eight. It's bad."

I looked away. "Tell them to call Dr. Liam at State Medical."

"Liam already saw the scans. He said it's too risky. He won't touch it!"

He took a deep breath, like he was making sure I understood how serious this was:

"You know who the patient is?"

"Marcus Shaw. Richard Shaw's only kid—you know, Shaw Industries."

"They literally just agreed to fund our whole new surgery wing. Papers are ready to sign."

I looked at him.

Ken lowered his voice, practically hissing:

"We can't blow this."

"Even if you won't operate, at least show up at City General."

"The Shaws asked for YOU. You're our star surgeon. Best in the States."

I shoved my right hand in my pocket. "I can't operate."

Ken froze. "What do you mean 'can't'?"

"You were just doing surgery demos. We all saw you. Your hands were fine."

I looked at that fake practice model under the scope.

No body heat.

No blood.

Wouldn't die if my hand slipped.

"Fake brain tissue and a real person's brainstem? Two different things."

"I can look at scans, plan approaches, tell you risks. But I can't step into an OR."

Ken's face went red. "That's a human life!"

I glanced at the clock.

Eleven minutes since that first call.

"Which is why you need to stop wasting time here."

"Tell City General to prep their own team now."

"Need a plan? I'll send one."

"Need me to operate? Not happening."

Ken didn't leave.

He stood there, face cycling between pissed and panicked.

"Viv, don't be stubborn right now."

"This Shaw donation isn't just money."

"It's new ORs, robot equipment, your whole brainstem project."

"You've always wanted to make this lab number one, right?"

"Now it's right there—don't kick it away."

Caleb cut in. "Ken, back off."

Ken spun on him.

"Back off?"

"She knows this stuff inside and out. She's literally the best."

"If she says no, we look like monsters."

I met his eyes. "Say I refused. Say I'm not good enough anymore. But I won't gamble someone's life for a building."

Ken's jaw tightened.

Rita started to say something:

"Dr. Shaw's not refusing—her hand—"

"Stop."

I cut her off.

Some scars don't need showing every time.

Ken's phone buzzed again.

He checked it and his face changed.

"Mr. Shaw's downstairs. His wife too. They brought press."

Everyone in the lab svcked in a breath.

Caleb turned to me. "Viv, go to my office. I'll handle this."

I shook my head. "Can't hide from it."

Five years.

Thought I was over being scared of them.

Changed my name, left that house, quit surgery, buried myself here.

But just knowing Richard and Lauren were coming made my hand start hurting again.

That reminded me how close I got to everything I wanted.

And how they ripped it away.

Chaos started downstairs.

Crying.

Yelling.

A man's voice, barely holding back rage: "Get Viv Shaw out here now!"

"If my son dies, this whole place goes down!"

Ken looked at me—begging and threatening at once.

"Dr. Shaw, whatever went down between you and the Shaws, just talk to them."

"They're his parents."

I smiled a little.

"His parents?"

"They're mine too."

Ken thought he heard wrong. "What?"

I didn't explain.

Because the door was already opening.

Richard Shaw burst in first.

Five years older—gray at the temples now.

But same eyes. Looking at everyone like we're beneath him.

Lauren Zane stumbled behind him, two relatives holding her up. She clutched some crumpled hospital form.

First time they saw me, they didn't know who I was.

Makes sense.

Five years back, I was still Flora.

Chopped hair, old shirts, lived in hospitals and labs.

Now I'm Viv Shaw.

Hair up, glasses, clean coat.

How would they recognize the kid they threw out?

Richard stepped forward, voice rough:

"You Dr. Viv Shaw? Please. Save my son. Name your price!"

Lauren dropped to her knees. Grabbed my coat, sobbing.

"Dr. Shaw, please! Marcus is our only child. We can't lose him..."

Only child.

Like a knife twisting in my ch//est.

I looked down at her.

Five years ago, I was on my knees too.

Basement floor, hand bleeding everywhere.

"Mom, it hurts!"

"Mom, I need my hand for surgery!"

"Mom, make him stop!"

Know what she did?

Stood in the doorway. Didn't move. Just said:

"Viv, stop fighting him. You pushed your dad too far."

"If your brother goes to jail, this family's done."

Now she's on her knees for her precious son.

I pulled my coat free.

"Mr. and Mrs. Shaw. Already told you. I can't help."

Lauren froze.

Richard's face hardened.

"What?!"

I said it again: "I can't operate. You've got time. Find someone else."

Dead silence.

Lauren stayed on the floor, tears stuck on her face.

Richard stared at me, eyes getting darker.

"Dr. Shaw, we not begging hard enough? You want money? Fame? Tell me. Save my son and it's yours."

"This isn't about money."

Richard laughed—bitter.

"Then what? You doctors are all the same. 'Saving lives' till there's cash on the table."

Ken tried to jump in.

"Mr. Shaw, that's not what she—"

"Shut up!"

Richard cut him off.

Turned back to me. No more begging—just hate now.

"My son's dying and you're here bargaining. Every second you waste, he's closer to dead!"

"I know. That's why I keep saying—stop wasting time on me."

Richard's face went black.

"Viv Shaw, don't push me. You're a doctor. Letting someone die—that doesn't scare you?!"

That shut people up fast.

A few students looked freaked out.

Ken was frowning but didn't push anymore.

Someone whispered:

"Why won't Dr. Shaw go?"

"Didn't she do that surgery before?"

"His parents are literally on their knees..."

Quiet voices. But loud enough.

Richard definitely heard.

Like he finally found my weak spot, he turned and nodded at the door.

Suddenly cameras poured in. Plus people with phones, livestreaming. Lenses right in my face.

"Dr. Shaw, they say you're the youngest top neurosurgeon in the country."

"The patient's family is begging on their knees. Why are you so heartless?"

"Rumor is you're fighting with Shaw Industries over donations. Are you using this patient's life as leverage?"

"As a doctor, aren't you scared of being remembered as a monster?"

Question after question.

Flashes stabbing my eyes.

Caleb stepped in front of me.

"Everyone out! This is a research lab, not a press conference!"

Nobody listened.

Livestream viewers kept climbing.

Some just watching.

Some calling me heartless.

Some saying I was being difficult.

Others started digging up my past.

"Completed world-class neurosurgery at twenty-seven."

"Quit clinical work three years ago out of nowhere."

"Now hiding in a lab teaching?"

Richard watched the comments on his phone.

Something flickered in his eyes—satisfaction.

"Dr. Shaw." He said it slow: "I'm saying this once."

"If anything happens to my son, you're done in medicine. Forever."

Lauren nodded through tears.

"Dr. Shaw, you're a woman. You'll have kids someday. How can you just watch mine die?"

I finally looked up.

"Lauren Zane."

Her crying stopped.

I pulled down my mask.

Everyone in the lab stared.

Richard froze.

Lauren's eyes went wide.

Her lips shook—wanted to say something but couldn't be sure.

I looked at them. Voice quiet.

"You really don't recognize me?"

"Or is the daughter whose hand you destroyed five years ago already dead to you?"

Lauren's face went white as paper.

"You... you're..."

I finished for her.

"I'm Flora Shaw. The daughter you threw away."

"Now I go by Viv Shaw."

Dead silence.

Even the reporters forgot to ask more questions.

Livestream chat froze for a second, then exploded.

Richard stared at me hard.

His face went from shock to panic to fury.

"What are you talking about?"

"Destroyed your hand? Stop playing victim to change the subject!"

I smiled.

"Change the subject?"

"Richard Shaw. Lauren Zane."

"You want to know why I can't operate?"

I raised my right hand and slowly pulled off the lab glove.

The scar—from thumb joint to wrist—ug1y under every camera lens.

I looked at Richard, said it slow:

"Ask my biological father for the answer."

Learn more

She killed me for her brother.

I came back.

Seven days before the apocalypse.

While everyone is still human—I’m already building a war machine.

A truck.

A ten-meter killing mecha.

This time…I hunt first.

"Screw you, Susan Holt!" Victor Wild's eyes were bloodshot, filled with rage.

The woman's voice echoed in his mind.

"Victor, let my brother have this advanced Source Crystal, okay? With it, his mecha will evolve to an advanced mecha. He's my brother, after all."

"Victor, the girl my brother likes really wants that beam rifle you just got. Can you let him have it? He's my only family."

"Victor, you HAVE to give this epic skill Source Crystal to my brother. With it, he'll become one of the top 100 in Riverside City.'

The more the voice resounded in Victor's mind, the redder Victor's eyes became.

His own mecha would evolve to an advanced mecha with that advanced Source Crystal too. He loved that beam rifle; he went through so much to obtain it. He needed that skill Source Crystal more than anyone because he was already one of the top 100 in Riverside.

But for her, Victor compromised again and again.

He gave her the advanced Source Crystal, the beam rifle, and countless other things. However, he could not give her the skill Source Crystal.

That lone act of defiance led to his death.

For a skill Source Crystal, the woman he cherished for eight years killed him.

But she never could have expected that Victor would be reborn, filled with rage, seven days before the machine invasion, back to his eighteen-year-old self.

-

"Hey, go daydream somewhere else."

A greasy man in a suit and gold-rimmed glasses slammed his hand on the desk.

"I want a loan!"

Victor, regaining some of his senses, slammed a property deed on the desk with even more force.

The greasy man was taken aback by Victor's sudden intensity.

In all his years, he'd never seen a borrower act so aggressively.

Everyone who came to him to borrow money was desperate.

Judging by the guy's yelling and demeanor, maybe he got dumped by a girl?

Well, none of his business!

What the greasy man didn't realize was that he was actually intimidated by Victor's killing intent.

Luckily, the greasy man had seen it all, so he quickly recovered.

"You get 90% and you pay back 130% in one month. You understand the terms, right?"

The greasy man composed himself, adjusted his glasses, and went into his routine.

"Yeah. How much can I borrow?"

Victor pushed the property deed towards the greasy man and sat down, his composure returning, the killing intent hidden.

"This yours?"

The greasy man examined the property deed. A 100-square-meter apartment in the city center, worth a good amount.

But the problem was, the young man sitting in front of him looked about eighteen or nineteen. Handsome, sure, but to own an apartment like this?

Maybe his parents gave it to him?

A rich kid? Is this idiot being scammed by a woman?

"Here's my ID. Speed up the process, I'm in a hurry." Victor handed over his ID.

The greasy man gave Victor a sidelong glance. Everyone who came to him was in a hurry.

After verifying the information, the greasy man confirmed that the apartment was indeed Victor's.

Whether Victor was being scammed or not was none of his business. He only cared about making money.

"Victor Wild, right?"

"Yeah. Victor as in a winner, and Wild as in born to be wild."

The greasy man looked up again, thinking the kid must be a bit crazy.

He probably read too many novels.

"You can borrow up to $160,000 for this apartment. How much do you want to borrow?"

"The full amount," Victor said.

"Just a reminder, you get 90% and pay back 130%. You'll only get $144,000, and you have to pay back $208,000 in a month. If you can't pay, we get the apartment."

"I know. Stop wasting time and just get it done."

"Alright."

Hearing that, the greasy man said no more. He had already said everything he needed to. Once the contract was signed, the rest was none of his concern.

These black market loans were definitely shady, but they were fast.

In less than an hour, $144,000 was credited to Victor's account.

Seeing the notification on his phone, Victor heaved a sigh of relief, finally releasing some of the complicated emotions he had been holding in since his rebirth.

"Seven days until the machine invasion. Time's a bit tight."

Leaving the loan shark company, Victor checked the time on his phone and hailed a taxi to the nearest heavy-duty truck dealership.

The machine invasion brought the mechanical civilization. Everyone can transform their vehicles into mecha.

Mecha come in all shapes and sizes: bicycles, motorcycles, tricycles, sedans, sports cars. Anything that is a vehicle can become a mecha.

Victor lived until the tenth year of the mechanical apocalypse. He had a rough start because he didn't have any mecha when the invasion began.

He didn't even own a bicycle.

After struggling for two years, he finally inherited a lightweight close-combat mecha. With plenty of hard work, he managed to do reasonably well in Riverside, but that woman...

"Susan Holt!"

Sitting in the taxi, Victor gritted his teeth. From his perspective, he had just died yesterday.

Susan stole his mecha core, preventing him from transforming. Stanley Holt plunged a saber into his gut, then mocked Victor as he took away the skill Source Crystal, revealing secrets between him and Susan as Victor died.

"Those two scumbags. It's okay, there's plenty of time. I'll settle the score with them sooner or later."

Victor took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

"Since I have a chance to start over, I want the best starter mecha possible… or at least one of the best. Yeah, it's not that a haul truck is bad, but a heavy-duty truck is more cost-effective."

The real reason was that he was poor.

Victor wasn't rich. His parents didn't give him the apartment, his grandfather left it for him. It was his only property.

While he was lost in thought, the taxi slowly came to a stop.

He had arrived at the heavy-duty truck dealership.

Victor paid and dashed into the showroom.

The receptionist hadn't even started her sales pitch when Victor cut her off.

"I want to buy a heavy-duty truck, the latest model, the biggest one you have."

"Sir, we..."

"The biggest, the best. You got it?"

The saleswoman swallowed her prepared pitch.

"Yes, sir. This way, please."

Outside, the saleswoman opened the gate to the parking lot.

The moment the gate opened, Victor saw an all-black heavy-duty truck.

It was love at first sight.

"Sir, this is our latest heavy-duty truck. Feel free to ask me anything."

The truck was a bit dusty, but that didn't diminish Victor's love for it. It was his ticket to surviving the apocalypse.

"This heavy-duty truck should look pretty badass as a mecha, right?"

"What did you say, sir?" The saleswoman didn't catch Victor's mutterings.

"Nothing. I'll take this one."

"O-oh, okay. Will you be paying with a loan or in full?" The saleswoman was stunned. She'd never seen such a decisive customer.

"Can the loan be processed today?" Victor asked.

"The base price is $98,000, but there's an $8,000. You can do a 50% down payment and the loan process will only take two hours."

"Good, loan it is."

"Alright, sir. This way, please." The saleswoman gestured.

Victor followed closely and finally relaxed when the loan process began.

Two hours later, the paperwork was done, and the vehicle was officially under Victor’s name.

"Can you have the truck delivered to this location? You can do that, right?"

"Of course, sir. Not a problem at all."

Victor could drive a car, but not a heavy-duty truck. If he tried to drive it, he would probably kill someone.

It wasn't the apocalypse yet, and running people over meant jail time.

"Have the truck delivered there. Just leave the keys in the truck."

With that, Victor turned and left.

The saleswoman stared at the keys, bewildered.

"He's just going to trust me with the keys? He's not even coming along?"

It wasn't that Victor was naive. He was simply not worried about someone stealing the truck. After the machine invasion, vehicles would transform into mecha, and the mecha would belong to whoever owned them. They could not be stolen. Victor had other important things to do and didn't want to waste time on such trivial matters.

As night fell, Victor arrived at a large welding shop.

Business was quiet, and the workers were idly chatting.

"I would like to see your boss."

"His office is over there." A young worker casually pointed the way.

"You can wait inside, he's in the bathroom."

"Thanks."

While waiting, Victor performed some mental calculations.

The heavy-duty truck's trailer was 9 meters and the cab was 3 meters, so the total length was 12 meters. After transforming into a mecha, it should be around 10 meters tall.

"10 meters... the saber should be at least 5 meters long, and I'll need a shield too."

Vehicles only transform into basic mecha forms initially. They don't have weapons until they evolve, relying only on their fists to fight.

As a reborn individual, Victor wasn't going to rely on his fists.

"First time here, buddy? What kind of work you need done?"

While Victor was lost in thought, the welding shop owner walked in.

"I need a saber, 5 meters long, 30 centimeters wide, 5 centimeters thick on the back."

"Bro, we're not a weapon shop. Huh? Wait, what did you say? How long?"

The boss, who had just grabbed a cup of water from his desk, froze, looking a bit comical as he held the cup in mid-air.

"5 meters."

"Bro, stop joking."

The boss was pretty chill as he did not blow up on the spot. Anyone would think that Victor was playing a prank on them.

"$4,000 should be enough, right? This is a $2,000 deposit. I want you to use your best alloy." Victor pulled out a stack of bills.

Nothing was more convincing than cash.

"You..." The boss was at a loss looking at the money.

The guy wasn't there to mess with him?

He was paying cash?

"Can you do it?"

"Yeah, we can, but we can't sharpen the blade."

Making an alloy blade wasn't hard, there wasn't much skill involved. He was paying too much, though.

"Great. No need to sharpen it. I also need a shield, think of it as something like a steel door. I'll also pay $4,000 for it. Here's the deposit for the steel door." Victor pulled out another $2,000…