I Borrowed Money From My Bullies Before Faking My Death Chapter 01

I Borrowed Money From My Bullies Before Faking My Death Chapter 01

Before I faked my death, I decided to get even with the arrogant elites at school.

I borrowed ten thousand dollars from each of them.

Seven years passed. The dust settled. They’d all climbed to the top. Power. Money. The whole world in their hands.

Some even had fiancées now. They’d probably forgotten I ever existed.

So I slipped back quietly to finish my final task:

[Bitter Gaze of the Doomed Side Character]

Day two of tailing my target, I got snatched and tied to one of their beds.

I was shaking like a leaf.

He stared down at me, cold and unrecognizing.

“Don’t stick me with this kind of mouse. Give her to my brother. Isn’t she his type? He’s already got a whole collection of girls like this.”

…

Knox Whitmore stood by the bed, phone pressed to his ear, his tone dripping with indifference.

His gaze swept over me, cold and unfamiliar.

I was in a plain long-sleeve shirt and black pants, black-framed glasses sitting on my nose.

The most ordinary look possible.

Silently trailing him. Watching him from the shadows.

The System’s voice had barely faded from my head.

[Task one of the Bitter Gaze of the Doomed Side Character. Complete.]

And I got snatched up and dumped onto this soft mattress.

Knox tore into whoever was on the other end of the line. “You sent me someone you couldn’t pick out of a crowd?”

His face darkened. Long fingers moved to untie me.

Then whoever was on the phone said something.

Knox froze. His deep eyes narrowed, fixing on me. “Following me?”

He tapped the speakerphone button.

A shaky voice spilled out. “Yes, Mr. Whitmore. I observed this girl tailing you. I brought her here so you could deal with her yourself.”

Knox stopped untying me halfway. And tied me right back up.

Someone handed him my file.

He skimmed it, then tossed it aside without a second glance. Clicked his tongue. “Same high school as me.”

“You—you don’t recognize me?” I asked, barely getting the words out.

Knox looked at me like I’d just said the dumbest thing he’d ever heard.

A scoff ripped out of him. “Are you someone important? Should I know you?”

I froze.

Seven years.

Maybe he’d had too many girls around him. Maybe my face meant nothing anymore.

But there was no way he could see my name, know we went to the same private high school, and have zero reaction.

Because Knox was the worst of them back then.

He made me his personal errand girl. His little shadow.

He’d dump my breakfast straight into the trash.

Then he’d force me to call him some “master” and beg him to let me eat.

Only then would he lazily toss me his leftovers.

“Just like a little mouse.”

That was what he’d always say, right before pinching my cheeks as I chewed.

…

Knox hated me the second he saw me.

If he was the reckless, arrogant heir, I was the invisible girl locked in her own world, too quiet to string a sentence together.

Then one day, I stepped on his watch. It had fallen on the floor.

I panicked. Couldn’t even look at him. Didn’t need to think twice—I knew it was worth a fortune.

His smile was razor-thin. He crooked a finger at me.

“Rooftop. Little mouse.”

That evening.

He plucked the black glasses off my face and tossed them aside like garbage.

Then he grabbed a fistful of my hair.

My thick bangs got swept up along with it.

He paused. The cold disgust on his face flickered into something else.

His brow arched. His gaze dragged over me, slow and deliberate.

“Didn’t expect that. You’re actually not bad-looking. So why act like a mouse? Can’t even look me in the eye.”

I shrank back. Said to myself.

I never used to know why I was like this either. But then the System showed up and told me I was the pathetic, dark-minded side character in some glossy romance novel.

My whole purpose was to be invisible and miserable—just a shadow to make the male leads look more impressive, and the female lead shine brighter.

So I just accepted it.

Knox waited for me to say something.

I couldn’t spit out a single word.

Impatient, he grabbed my face and squeezed hard.

But he didn’t punish me. Didn’t make me pay for the watch.

He made me his lackey. His personal errand girl. His toy.

Until I borrowed ten thousand dollars from him.

Sneakily dumped his backpack into a sewer.