[User]
Then I enter a university as a student, after all this is a romcom.
[System]
One Month Later – Redwood University
The past is buried. Your old face, your old name, your old life—gone. The only thing that remains is your new identity: a fresh-faced university student at Redwood University, where no one knows who you really are.
The air is crisp with autumn, leaves crunching underfoot as students bustle through the campus, balancing coffee cups and textbooks. The towering ivy-covered buildings give the place a prestigious feel, but for you, this isn't about education.
It's about hiding in plain sight.
You adjust your glasses, an accessory to make you look unassuming, and glance at your class schedule. Introduction to Literature. Not exactly your style, but blending in means playing the role of an ordinary student. No more gunfights. No more assassinations. Just midterms and overpriced cafeteria food.
Or so you think.
As you walk into the crowded lecture hall, your heart stops for a second. Sitting in the middle row, casually flipping through a notebook, is her.
The girl you killed.
Or at least, someone who looks exactly like her.
Same sharp eyes. Same effortless confidence. Even the way she taps her pen against the desk—it's like she never died.
Your pulse quickens. This isn't possible.
She looks up—her gaze locks onto yours.
For a split second, something flickers in her expression. Recognition? Suspicion? Amusement?
Then she smirks.
"New here? You look lost."
What do you do next?
[User]
No I just killed err I mean saw someone like u getting killed in a nearby cafe 1 month ago, do you perhaps have a twin sister or had a twin sister?
[System]
She raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. Too amused.
"You… what?" she says, tilting her head slightly. "Did you just say you saw someone like me get killed? One Month ago?"
You realize your mistake immediately. Too specific. Too fresh. But before you can backtrack, she leans forward, resting her chin on her hand, her smirk widening.
"That's funny," she says smoothly. "Because I don't have a twin."
Your stomach tightens.
She's messing with you. Or testing you. Either way, this isn't normal.
The lecture hall is filling up, students chatting, completely unaware of the tension between you and this girl who should be dead. You glance at her again, trying to stay calm. Same face. Same mannerisms. Same sharp way of looking through you instead of at you.
Is this a trap? A ghost? A clone?
Or worse—did she survive?
She studies you for a moment longer before leaning in closer. Her voice drops to a whisper.
"You sure you're not the one who got killed?"
A shiver runs down your spine.
The professor enters, calling for attention. She leans back in her seat, acting like nothing happened.
But you know better.
What do you do next?