Flying Snow Razor Alley

My phone died—cut off for an overdue bill—right as I was pulled into a group chat.

It was my third hour behind the convenience store counter. Heat from the back kitchen sagged against me, a physical weight that turned every breath into a struggle.

When I finally used my first paycheck to top up my balance and rebooted the phone, I saw the group name: “Patrick’s Second-Hand Trading Group.” For a second, I actually thought some classmate had kindly added me to hunt for a bargain.

Then I saw it.

The pinned post.

The bet.

Worth a million.

And the subject was me.

The goal? To see who could ruin me first—in two months.

…

My phone buzzed while I was hauling the last crate of near-expired sodas into the storeroom.

Sweat stung my eyes, blurring everything.

**[Jennifer has invited you to join the group chat “Patrick’s Second-Hand Trading Group.”]**

Jennifer? The campus darling. The undisputed queen bee of Royal Crest Academy.

She invited *me*? I wiped my eyes, disbelief turning in my stomach like a cold stone.

I tapped in. The chat was a frenzy.

“Well, look who finally showed up.”

“Welcome, welcome! Give it up for the new queen of the rankings, Sophie!”

“Oof. So this is the scholarship kid who bumped our goddess Jennifer down to second?”

My fingers went cold around the phone.

Before I could process it, the pinned message—set by the group admin—hit my vision like a poisoned blade.

**[Group: Game on. Target: Sophie, Class 1, Grade 11. Participants: Patrick, Johnny. Wager: One million. Rules: First to claim Sophie within two months wins. All details shared here.]**

The admin was Patrick. The school’s top bully, the guy nobody crossed.

The other participant was Johnny. The charming, polished student council president—Patrick’s equal in reputation.

The world tilted. My stomach churned.

This wasn’t a second-hand trading group. It was a hunting ground. Built for me.

And I was the million-dollar prey.

All because, on the last finals, I—the scholarship kid who barely scraped into this elite academy—accidentally scored first. Knocking Jennifer, the perennial top dog, down a peg.

**[Don’t panic, Host! Stay calm! According to the original plot, you’re just the disposable villainess. The plot’s kicking off now!]**

A familiar line of translucent text scrolled past my sight.

Yeah. I could see the bullet comments. Ever since I woke up in this world.

They were ruthless spoilers, telling me I was living in a campus novel. Jennifer was the beloved female lead.

My purpose? To be the foil to her purity and kindness. To get played by Patrick and Johnny, then drop out in disgrace.

“Hey Sophie, cat got your tongue? Scared stiff?”

“A million bucks. If I were her, I’d just pick one and get it over with. At least she’d walk away with something.”

“Ha! As if she’s worth it. Patrick and Johnny are just doing this to teach her a lesson—for Jennifer.”

Finally, Jennifer chimed in, her tone sugary sweet. “Oh, everyone, please