Dead to You: The Ultimate Karma

[Mission failed. Commencing obliteration sequence.] The cold, mechanical voice ground against the inside of my skull.

I had spent five agonizing years bleeding myself dry to conquer Roman. Tonight, on his birthday, my ring finger remained bare. The clock ran out.

It was all over. [Target's first love returned today.

He has been by her side this entire evening.] A sickening drop of synthetic pity laced the system’s static: [The fiveyear contract has expired.

As final compensation, you are permitted to choose your method of exit from this world.] Fine. If I have to check out, let me do it under the tires of his precious Porsche.

I am going to make him destroy his own life with his bare hands. Chapter 1 Five minutes to midnight. Today was my twentyfifth birthday, and the absolute deadline for the mission.

If Roman proposed to me today, I could stay. We had a deal—an explicit, promised deal. The penthouse was overflowing with thousands of white roses flown in from South America.

A champagne tower caught the glare of the crystal chandelier, and sitting right there on the table was the Tiffany threecarat diamond ring box he had customordered six months ago.

Our mutual friends had received the invitations early, arriving at the estate ready to pop champagne and celebrate.

Yet, from noon until the sun went down, every single call to Roman went straight to voicemail. Jade squeezed my icy hands, her voice tight. "Willow, don't panic.

Maybe he… maybe something came up?" What the hell could have come up?

Not long ago, he had looked me dead in the eye, swearing on every word, "Willow, I am going to give you the most flawless proposal in front of everyone." I just shook my head.

I told them all to go home. According to the rules, if Roman didn't show up before the day ended, I would be obliterated by the system.

I couldn't stomach the thought of the people who genuinely cared about me watching my body disintegrate into dust. Maybe my obsessive watchchecking was too pathetic to witness.

With only a few minutes left on the clock, the system finally broke the silence. [Host, stop waiting.] For some reason, a sharp static crackle laced the usually sterile, mechanical voice. [He isn't coming.] [Celine returned to the country today.

He has been with her this entire time. They are currently at the hospital.] Celine. Roman's untouchable first love. The childhood sweetheart he grew up with.

I pressed my fingernails into my palms, the physical sting grounding the hollow exhaustion settling in my chest. "Is she cured?" [No.] The system stated the facts: [This toptier private medical center just imported the world's latest targeted emergency lifesupport equipment.

She is never leaving again.] Oh. Makes sense. Very logical. Now that the one he truly wanted was back, there was zero need to keep dragging this out with me.

The system fell silent just as my midnight alarm blared. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the agonizing rip of my soul being torn from this reality.

Except… Almost a full minute ticked by. Nothing happened. I snapped my eyes open.

I was still standing in the same suffocatingly familiar room, surrounded by wilted bouquets, useless decorations, and glaring lights.

Why… why was I still here? [I submitted an override request on your behalf.] [Your time in this world has been extended by exactly twentyfour hours.

In the meantime.] [You may select your own method of termination.] It didn't sound particularly thrilling. But it wasn't like I had a packed schedule anyway.

I genuinely started brainstorming with the system, treating it like a morbid strategy meeting on how to stage my spectacular exit tomorrow… Arson? Basejumping without a parachute?

Drowning? Ever since the sun went down, the system's tone had become unnervingly gentle. [It is merely departing this current server.

Plus, I will manually override all your pain receptors.] "Got it," I murmured. I casually unlocked my phone, swiping through Instagram one last time out of pure muscle memory.

The newest post on my feed was from Roman's trustfund buddy. A blurry, highspeed shot of a sports car.

Accompanied by a twoline caption. [Haven't seen this crazy bastard streetracing downtown in years.] [The power of the first love, man.

Hits different!] Chapter 2 Roman’s family had deep, oldmoney roots, their corporate empire sprawling across the country.

He grew up suffocated by wealth, getting anything he wanted with a snap of his fingers. His inner circle consisted entirely of trustfund heirs, most of whom were useless playboys.

Their routine was always the same: track racing, surfing, or burning cash at highend clubs. After Roman and I got together, the clubbing stopped.

But occasionally, he’d still take his cars out to the canyon roads.

Until a few years ago when he totaled a limitededition Ferrari streetracing under the influence, nearly killing himself.

His dictatorial grandfather, who controlled the family trust, threatened to sever all his black cards and trust funds, forcing him to quit that insane habit. "He’s racing again?" I frowned, questioning the system. [Not racing.

Celine experienced sudden chest pain. He drove her to the hospital, blowing through several red lights and driving at extreme speeds.] This was downtown.

I pressed my lips into a thin line. If he caused a wreck right now, he wouldn't just hurt himself—he was going to drag innocent bystanders down with him.

Within minutes, the mutual friends Roman and I shared started flooding that Instagram post with comments. [Is he psychotic? Didn't he say he was proposing to Willow yesterday?

What the hell is this streetracing bullshit?] [Lmao, update your software, girl. Celine flew back today. There is zero chance Roman still wants Willow!] [Watch your mouth.

Proposal aside, pushing 100 mph through downtown is just wrong.] [Exactly, it’s dangerous as hell.

What if he hits a pedestrian?] [Did Roman forget about his grandfather threatening to freeze his trust fund?] [He's severely speeding.

This bastard needs a massive reality check!] I exhaled a long breath. "That's enough," I cut off the system. "Where is Roman right now?" [He checked Celine into a VIP intensive care suite, and now he is driving like a maniac across half the city to pick up an imported, blackmarket emergency injection he secured at an exorbitant price.] Right.

Makes perfect sense. "I’ve figured out my exit strategy for this world." I twirled the pen between my fingers, staring blankly at the wall. "Instead of him causing a wreck and killing a stranger… I want to see it." "I want to see the exact look on his face when he realizes he personally drove me into the abyss for his precious first love." Roman’s current location wasn't far from me.

The system pulled up his GPS coordinates. At first, my brain didn't process why he was headed this way. When it finally clicked, a dry, mocking laugh scraped my throat.

I really was delusional.

It was simply because the only 24hour, blackcardexclusive private pharmacy in the state—capable of pulling extremely rare prescription drugs on demand—was located right next to this estate.

I used to get severe stomach cramps. Roman would shoot out of bed in the dead of night, throw a trench coat over his pajamas, and rush down to buy me medicine.

Then he would fight off sleep all night, sitting on a hard kitchen stool, meticulously brewing a hot ginger remedy, stirring it spoonful by spoonful until dawn.

He used to be exactly like that. When he gave a damn about someone, he treated them like spun glass. Constantly obsessing over them, terrified they would suffer even a scratch.

Because I had lived inside that suffocatingly intimate care, the utter lack of it now felt like a physical gut punch. The system asked if I wanted to go take a look. I nodded.

Of course. This was the final goodbye, after all. There was only one main arterial road leading to that private pharmacy. I pulled on my wool coat and stepped out the door.

Walking a few hundred yards, I arrived at the inevitable Tintersection. It was around eight or nine at night. In the dead of winter, the sky bled to black quickly.

The heavy, oppressive darkness had already settled over the city. The streetlights behind me buzzed to life, casting a sickly, pale yellow halo over the concrete.

I stood right beneath the glare. A few moths fluttered blindly past my eyes. Chapter 3 A flicker of hesitation crossed my mind. Was it really worth dragging this out with Roman?

There were barely three or four hours left until midnight. I could use this time to watch a movie, blast my favorite playlist, or walk down to the beach and pick up a few shells.

Just to leave myself some decent, rare final memories before I checked out. [Willow.] It was the system. For once, it didn't call me Host. It used my actual name.

I gave a low hum of acknowledgment, my head snapping up purely on reflex. A blinding glare. In the distance, a silver sports car was tearing down the asphalt straight toward me.

Roman’s car. He was going way too fast. I threw my arm over my eyes to block the piercing high beams. [Are you absolutely certain?] Yeah.

Because I just saw a little girl with a backpack stepping right into the crosswalk. TThe glare was punishing.

It took my eyes a few agonizing seconds to adjust and fully register the kid in the street.

She looked like a first or second grader, tiny, with massive overear noisecanceling headphones practically swallowing her head.

She was staring down at a phone, tapping away with a huge smile on her face. Oblivious to the two tons of metal hurtling toward her.

Even if Roman noticed her right now, at the insane speed he was pushing, slamming the brakes wouldn't do a damn thing. The sheer momentum would launch her into the air.

The outcome would be catastrophic. I didn't even think. "Move!" I lunged into the blinding high beams, tackling the headphonewearing girl onto the concrete.

The earpiercing shriek of tires burning against the asphalt instantly shredded the night. The little girl hit the concrete hard.

She scrambled forward on her hands and knees, then stumbled back to her feet, spinning around. "Miss! Miss!" "Somebody help!" "There's so much blood…" "She got hit! Ah! Ah!

Ah!" The system didn't lie. It severed my pain receptors. So, in the exact second the chassis crushed over me, I didn't feel a single flare of agony.

I just heard the sickening, wet thuds. The horrific crunch of my own bones snapping and splintering into pieces. It wasn't exactly a pleasant experience.

But thankfully, the system yanked my consciousness cleanly out of my mangled physical shell. I hovered in midair, coldly overlooking the carnage below. The kid was terrified.

She trembled, frantic fingers fumbling with her phone to dial 911. Looking at her, I suddenly felt like this was worth it. I was going to die anyway.

Might as well pull someone else out of the fire. Inside the car, Roman definitely realized something was wrong.

After he slammed on the emergency brakes, the sports car still skidded for several hundred yards before finally grinding to a halt."What the hell was that?" Maybe it was because I was no longer trapped inside a physical body, but even through the heavy car doors and tinted windows, I could hear his voice with crystal clarity.

His face drained of color, his grip turning whiteknuckled around the steering wheel. He grabbed the door handle, muttering under his breath: "Did I hit someone?" "Crazy, no way