My mother worked as a housemaid for a wealthy family. The lady of the house was fond of her and allowed her children to attend school with the young master as his companions. My younger sister told me, “You’re the older one—you shouldn’t fight me for it.” So just as she wished, she got into the elite academy. As for me, I continued studying at an ordinary school. Five years later, I was about to graduate from university. Then came the news—my sister had died overseas, her body covered in scars from prolonged abuse. On my way to claim her remains, I was in a car accident. When I opened my eyes, I had returned to the very day of that fateful decision. This time, I didn’t hesitate. I chose to become the young master’s classmate. My sister simply stood in silence, not objecting. But I knew—she had returned too. And this time, we were switching roles all over again.