Chapter 1

The girl I dumped became Hollywood's biggest star.

At her wedding press conference, a reporter asked her, "Who do you think you owe your success to the most?"

She gave a cold, mocking smile and replied:

"I'd like to thank my ex-boyfriend. He's the one who used every cruel trick in the book to force me out of his life when I hit rock bottom."

"He taught me that before you make it, all love is fake."

Just like that, I was branded across the internet as a heartless freeloader and a pathetic gold-digger.

Netizens tracked down my Ins account. Scrolling through my sad, broken daily life, they only laughed.

Is this what happens to parasites who fumble the bag?

I stood in the shadows at her wedding, took one last look at her, and leaped into the icy river without hesitation.

Before I died, I posted my final voice note to Ins—only, I accidentally posted it to the official game account I still had access to.

And the ex-girlfriend who claimed she hated me with every fiber of her being fell to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably, begging me to come back.

"Julian, honestly... go home and get some rest. Travel somewhere you've always wanted to see. Don't waste the little time you have left."

The doctor rubbed his tired eyes, gazing down at my chart with unconcealed pity.

I had already made peace with this. I gave a slight nod, clutched my medical files to my chest, and pulled my coat tight as I walked out of the clinic.

Five years ago, I was diagnosed with advanced melanoma. An incurable curse. The fact that I had survived this long was already a miracle.

The moment I stepped out of the hospital, my cracked phone began to buzz violently.

"Julian! How many days have you called in sick this month? Do you even want this job?"

"Don't bother showing up tomorrow. You're fired!"

Before I could even apologize, all I got was the flat beep of a disconnected line.

After getting fired from the tech studio, it had taken everything to land this low-end waiter job. Now that was gone, too.

Zero income left.

I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. Then again, why would a dead man need money?

I looked up at the massive LED billboard across the street and froze.

It was Mia Vance. My ex-girlfriend. Five years ago, an uncredited extra. Today, an A-list superstar.

Back then, she ran from audition to audition in Hollywood, begging for two-line roles. Today, she was America's sweetheart. Her face was plastered across every screen, every magazine, every luxury campaign in the city.

I stared at her bright, radiant smile for a long time.

My phone chimed with a friend request. It was Mia. She had sent two brief messages:

Have you seen where I am today?

Thanks for walking out on me when I was at my lowest. It made me who I am.

I stared at her brilliant smile on the screen, my heart aching, and typed just one word back:

Congratulations.

Her reply followed immediately:

Meet me tomorrow afternoon.

The local bus route was suspended for maintenance today. Looking at the two-mile walk on my GPS, I realized I couldn't even afford an Uber. I had to walk.

The sky was breathtakingly blue today. Even in this coastal city, we rarely got skies so clear.

I walked under the warm sun, a weak smile forming on my lips.

Even the heavens seemed to be celebrating my impending demise. They didn't want me lingering in this world any longer either.

My place was a dump—an illegal prefab shack built on top of a derelict apartment building in the industrial slums.

I dragged my aching body up the narrow, foul-smelling staircase, stepping through trash and clutter, only to find a crowd gathered right outside my door.

A city code enforcement officer stopped me in my tracks.

"Woah, hold on, kid. You can't go up there. This whole rooftop structure is an illegal hazard. The demolition crew is tearing it down right now!"

My voice came out dry and hoarse. "Sir... all my stuff is in there. Can I please just grab a few things?"

He looked me up and down, muttering under his breath, "Living in a dump like this, what could you possibly own that's worth saving?"

I wrapped my thin jacket tightly around myself and squeezed past the clean, well-dressed neighbors.

They instinctively leaned away, dodging me as if I carried the plague. I knew why. They were avoiding the grime on my clothes.

I kept my head low and carried out a high-end designer duffle bag. I deliberately covered it with a beat-up burlap sack so no one would notice it.

Leaving the alley behind, I walked aimlessly through the neon-drenched city, surrounded by the laughter of evening crowds and street vendors.

An overwhelming, suffocating grief crawled up my chest. Tears blurred my eyes. This city was ablaze with millions of golden lights, yet not a single one was burning for me.

I checked into a cheap, twenty-dollar roadside motel just to get through the night. After all, I had to see Mia tomorrow.