Xanthia had never used this disposable item recklessly.

  Even though it was a system-simuted, artificial rebirth memory—designed to make the user believe they had been reborn—she knew better.

  Relying solely on such memories to tread the path of a "reborn individual" would only result in constant setbacks, deepening doubts about life, and perpetuating endless cycles of "pain points."

  Still, she didn’t believe this item was merely a tool to accumute "pain points." Even if the memories were false, they could provoke transformation in people.

  And often, that transformation could be positive.

  If someone used the item for revenge, extracting another’s "pain points," it might even serve to strengthen their opponent’s mind. Wouldn’t that, in a way, amount to "supporting your enemy"?

  Pain, after all, can shape and temper a person’s life. Didn’t Sasuke from Naruto grow rapidly because of Itachi’s impact on him?

  For these reasons, Xanthia had never considered using it casually on someone she merely disliked. She was waiting for the right person to use it on.

  Of course, if the situation grew urgent and she cked enough "pain points" herself, she would have to use it based on the circumstances.

  But life has its own pns—or as the saying goes, there are no true coincidences.

  For Xanthia, this Saturday afternoon, a half-day holiday, was nothing special.

  She was out with her close friend Luciel and her new acquaintance Lhoraine. The three of them strolled through the shopping district, enjoying meals, pying games, and browsing shops. It helped her shake off the frustration caused by Hera earlier that morning.

  Surrounded by her friends, Xanthia basked in the warmth of their companionship. Retaliating against Hera wasn’t urgent. She could afford to wait until Hera made her next move. Then, Xanthia would retaliate decisively and assert her dominance—that was her style.

  Besides, Hera wasn’t acting alone. She must have accomplices. Once Xanthia got her hands on the "Malicious Notebook," she would turn them all into sources of "pain points."

  As the three friends enjoyed their lively outing, Lhoraine raised her gss and smiled.

  "Xanthia, congratutions! You won the selection for school broadcaster again, beating Elena. It seems like you’re about to completely repce her as the boys’ favorite in css, haha!"

  Xanthia ughed, though her tone carried a hint of exasperation. "The selection? Wasn’t it you, as the literary committee member, who insisted on recommending both of us to the css teacher? Each first-year css has to send two candidates, but instead of participating yourself, you pushed me and Elena forward."

  Every year, the broadcasting room at Thessaloniki First High School sought new recruits among first-year students. Only first- and second-years were eligible, as third-years had to prioritize studying for the college entrance exams.

  Lhoraine waved off the compint. "That’s because your voice is so pleasant. Elena, on the other hand, has excellent English skills, which makes her good at reading English passages aloud."

  Initially, Xanthia hadn’t cared much about being selected as a school broadcaster. But when she discovered that working in the broadcasting room could improve her "voice acting" skills, her perspective changed. In her previous life, she had admired several voice actors and the characters they brought to life in anime.

  Improving her "voice acting" would allow her to cospy those characters perfectly, something that delighted her just thinking about it.

  Back in her previous high school days, she used to take evening walks around campus, listening to the "Voice of the Campus" on the loudspeakers. Those moments felt nostalgic now.

  Unexpectedly, in this life, she was no longer just an audience member—she was the "Voice of the Campus." The novelty of it intrigued her.

  "Elena wasn’t selected because she didn’t prepare at all. She just went through the motions. She thinks being a broadcaster is a waste of time with no real benefits," Xanthia said in Elena’s defense.

  Before Lhoraine could respond, Luciel interjected, "Xanthia, you’re too modest. It doesn’t matter if Elena was prepared or not—you won in the end!"

  Lhoraine nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly! Xanthia, you don’t realize. While you and Elena were competing, some boys in the css actually started betting on who would win. At first, it was fifty-fifty, but once the results were announced, those boys who worshipped Elena as an angel began to reevaluate her."

  Both Luciel and Lhoraine had a clearer understanding of Elena’s personality than most of their male cssmates.

  Elena wasn’t unpleasant, but she was undeniably pragmatic, mature, and self-serving. Her calcuted approach made her seem polished, but also somewhat selfish.

  Take the broadcaster selection, for instance: while winning would have brought glory to the css, it also required sacrificing personal time. Elena clearly saw no benefit in it, so she had chosen to underperform.

  In the past, Elena had been the unchallenged "queen of the hearts." But now, Xanthia—prettier, more likable, more genuine, and better at academics—had overtaken her, becoming the school broadcaster and earning the admiration of their cssmates.

  The contrast between the two was stark, and the shift in dynamics was evident.

  Xanthia also noticed something else: her "Battle of the Queen of Hearts" mission progress bar had reached ninety-nine percent.

  Frustratingly, she was just one percent short of completion—like downloading an exciting movie only to have the download freeze at the st moment.

  Who was holding back that final one percent?

  The name "Dematero" came to mind.

  With a sigh, Xanthia resigned herself to the thought. If it was Dematero, she had no idea what to do about it. The stubborn literary boy was deeply entrenched in his first love. Without a profound epiphany, he was unlikely to let go.

  But how could anyone truly understand the pain of failed first love without experiencing it firsthand?

  Of course, there was always the possibility of complete despair—giving up entirely and losing all hope.

  As the girls returned to school that evening, Xanthia received a message from Glen.

  "Xanthia, I’m sorry to bother you, but I have to tell you something: today, Dematero finally mustered the courage to confess to Elena. I encouraged him because I thought it would be better to express his feelings than keep them bottled up.

  "But fate had other pns. While we were shopping for a gift, we saw Elena holding hands with another guy. She didn’t seem particurly affectionate, but they were holding hands.

  "Dematero, who had been so excited earlier, completely fell apart. His spirits have plummeted, and now he’s utterly distraught. I don’t know how to comfort him. Can you help?"

  Xanthia had to cover her mouth to suppress her ughter.

  She loved witnessing life’s little dramas. Watching others’ stories unfold always brought her amusement.

  Her inner happiness soared.

  Laughing silently to herself, she thought: let’s py along with this. Maybe add a little surprise of my own.