Who Needs Love When You're Reborn?

Chapter 2 Dorm Room Monopoly

[1]

The August sun scorched the football field at Riverstone State University, and the artificial turf exhaled a hot, plastic-scented haze. As Jason stuffed the last folding bed into the U-Haul truck, the vehicle’s radio broadcast the news of Lehman Brothers filing for bankruptcy.

"Set 147," Greg said, crossing out the number on the list with a marker. His work pants were soaked into a deep green with sweat as he added, "Bro, the Walmart manager nearly cried when he saw the inventory."

Jason tossed a twenty-dollar tip to the redneck driver and turned his gaze toward the stands, piled high with mattresses. These deer-patterned bedding sets had been scavenged from six Walmart backrooms in the Great Lakes region using his student loan advances—each set costing $19.99 and resold for $89.

"Do you know this violates seven campus regulations?" a cool, harsh female voice called from behind. Vivian Foster, leaning on a carbon-fiber cane and standing outside the security line, now wore a medical ankle brace instead of a cast—but still sported those Jimmy Choo studded boots against all advice.

Jason lifted the truck’s cover, revealing a laser-engraved "CampusDeal" logo. "According to Student Handbook Section 304, commercial activities on campus are prohibited," he declared in a tone reminiscent of a dissection lecture. "But this area falls under Ann Arbor’s jurisdiction, and our temporary sales permit was specially approved by the mayor’s office—would you like to see the documents, Miss Foster?"

Vivian’s gray-blue eyes narrowed slightly. Of course, she had no idea that this permit had been secured by Jason in exchange for some ugly photos of the mayor’s daughter at a fraternity party—the very photos still locked away in his Nokia’s encrypted folder.

[2]

When the first new student’s parent appeared in the parking lot, Jason launched his meticulously designed scarcity marketing campaign:

Step 1: Have Greg pose as an angry customer, causing a scene at the booth by claiming, "I got ripped off with shoddy cotton last year."

Step 2: Arrange for three cheerleaders to post selfies with the mattresses on i********: using #CampusDeal.

Step 3: Post fake negative reviews of competitors on Craigslist.

The tactic worked far beyond expectations. By 3 PM, the line had wound around the Gothic library; international students were holding up various currencies marked "Cash Only," and freshmen on the football team even used their gym membership cards as collateral for deposits.

"We're about to make a killing!" Greg hummed a country tune while counting the cash, until Vivian’s student government compliance team appeared. Six student government members wearing blue armbands unfurled a banner reading "Stop Exploiting Freshmen." Vivian raised a megaphone and declared, "According to Campus Commercial Conduct Regulation 7.2, you are engaging in price fraud."

Calmly, Jason revealed his trump card—the live-streaming GoPro camera aimed directly at the compliance team. "We're conducting a social experiment, and all profits will be donated to the Veterans' Education Fund." Behind him, a retractable banner sprang open, displaying a forged charity certification. "Want to be the villain on camera, Miss Foster?"

The crowd began to stir. A parent with a Southern accent shouted, "My son is going to join the military one day!" The protest quickly shifted its focus to the student government. Vivian’s fingertips dug deeply into her palm, and Jason caught a whiff of pain patch medication on her wrist.

The standoff reached its climax when Dean Foster called. With everyone watching, Jason pressed the speakerphone button, and a deep authoritative voice from the law school boomed, "Cease harassing my daughter immediately..."

"I'm afraid not," Jason retorted, angling the phone toward the U-Haul’s donation statement. "You're interfering with veterans' education—should I contact a Wall Street Journal alumni editor?"

[3]

Late at night, the entrepreneurship club reeked of m*******a. Jason counted his cash with a cold laugh, "Those rich kids will never understand that real profit lies in the gray areas of the Clayton Antitrust Law."

Suddenly, a private message alert popped up on his computer from a Bitcoin forum. The anonymous user "Phoenix_2023" sent him a piece of code—the very blockchain traceability algorithm he had designed in his past life. Cold sweat trickled down his spine as he frantically retraced every digital footprint, until he discovered a line in the code comment in Vietnamese: "Đừng tưởng mình là người duy nhất."

Greg burst through the door just as Jason was using a spray gun to burn the hard drive. "Are you crazy? That contains all our transaction records!"

"Someone is reverse-tracing us," Jason said, flushing the ashes down the toilet. Outside, car lights flashed by. Peering out the windowsill, they saw Vivian's Maserati slowly pull out of the parking lot, its backseat piled with bedding samples bearing the "CampusDeal" label.

"Did she steal our product?" Greg exclaimed, eyes wide.

"No," Jason replied, staring in the direction where the taillights had vanished, "she's gathering evidence for a lawsuit."

[4]

Three days later, at a student court hearing, Vivian presented damning evidence:

A report showing excessive formaldehyde levels in the mattresses

Forged bank statements from the fake charity

Surveillance video clips from a Walmart warehouse

At the 47th minute of the hearing, Jason activated Plan B. He played a doctored recording of his conversation with the Walmart manager: "...of course we were aware of the formaldehyde issue, but Dean Foster said he could help cover it up..."

The audience erupted in shock. When Vivian abruptly stood up, she knocked over a water glass; the dark liquid spread across her pristine suit jacket like an abstract battle scene. "Fabricating evidence is a serious crime!" she cried, her voice cracking for the first time.

"Oh, really?" Jason retorted, holding up a pill bottle he had retrieved from her office trash. "What about illegally obtaining prescription drugs, Miss Foster? Shall I explain the difference between fluoxetine and dextroamphetamine to the court?"

The sound of the gavel echoed, and Jason saw victory in the faces of the jurors. But when he looked at Vivian, he noticed she was slashing her arm with a utility knife under the table—old scars hidden by her long sleeves now oozed fresh blood.

[5]

The monopoly plan eventually concluded with an out-of-court settlement:

✓ Jason retained 60% of the profits, donating the rest to an environmental fund.

✓ Vivian withdrew all charges.

✓ Both parties signed a confidentiality agreement.

At the celebration party, Tyler, the president of Sigma Alpha Epsilon, handed him an invitation: "You should officially join us." Jason folded the envelope into a paper boat and dropped it into a champagne barrel. "Tell your hedge-fund-manager father that I'm buying all his worthless Lehman Brothers junk bonds."

As fireworks exploded on the fraternity house roof, Jason encountered Vivian on the terrace, who was caught stealing drugs. She swallowed a pill like a dying swan, "Are you satisfied now?"

"Do you know why we chose bedding?" Jason abruptly changed the subject. "Because on the first night in an unfamiliar environment, people instinctively cling to the nearest source of warmth." He reached out to wipe the drug powder from Vivian's mouth. "You should switch to a more reliable supplier."

At that moment, his phone buzzed. An anonymous number sent a blurry photo: 13-year-old Jason loading goods in front of his grandfather's grocery store, the camera angle capturing the window of Vivian's.