In my previous life, I'd been dragged away the same way—charged with disturbing the peace and distributing obscene material. Fifteen days locked away like a criminal. By the time I got out, my parents were already gone—died miserably at home, their bodies left untouched for days.
And I didn't even have time to mourn before the real punishment came. The enraged families of the men from the video found me, beat me senseless. I died without even understanding who had framed me.
Now, even with this second life, was I doomed to relive it all?
No. I refused.
If I couldn't find the person who destroyed me, then what was the point of coming back?
As I stumbled toward the waiting police vehicle, the weight of two lives crushed down on me. I kept replaying every moment, every detail, from both timelines.
And then—something clicked.
I stopped walking. My eyes widened, the haze in my mind evaporating in an instant.
I spun around, lifted my head and shouted toward the crowd with everything I had:
"I know who the person in the video is!"
