Born Twice, Broken Once

Episode 2

The butler standing nearby gave me a subtle signal—don’t provoke him.

Lucas Heng, silenced by my words, stormed upstairs.

I smiled at the butler, then headed back to my room.

Sitting at my desk, I saw the diary pages soaked with tears. The bold words on the page read—

[That day, she came. That was when my nightmare began.]

[From then on, I was no longer human. I became a dog, to be toyed with by anyone.]

On the second week of the new semester, a new transfer student joined our class—the very girl mentioned in Eliza Tran’s diary: Charlotte Van.

Charlotte came from a prominent family. Her beauty was dazzling, her smile angelic.

She was childhood friends with both Lucas Heng and Zachary Cole, though she’d moved abroad for studies. Now she was back.

The way both Lucas and Zachary treated her was clearly different from how they treated everyone else.

Whispers spread through the class about the trio’s relationship. I even caught my own name mentioned in their gossip.

When Charlotte found out I was the one tutoring Lucas, she didn’t seem annoyed. On the contrary, she cheerfully grabbed my hand and loudly said for Lucas to hear, “A-Heng is so moody, Evelyn. You’ve had it tough.”

Lucas didn’t get angry—he looked a bit flustered, even. “How am I moody? If you think I’m that bad, maybe we shouldn’t be friends.”

He was sulking.

Charlotte, all too familiar with his childish tantrums, cooed a few words and smoothed it over in no time.

Had I not witnessed the cold expression on her face as she quietly wiped the hand that had just touched mine, I might’ve doubted whether Eliza and I had encountered the same person.

But there was no mistake—it was her. The same arrogant, cruel heiress. She hadn’t changed one bit.

Then came Sports Day.

Somehow, I was signed up for the 3000-meter race. Obviously someone had pulled strings.

The class sports rep looked smug. “The list can’t be changed now. You’d better start training.”

I scanned the class. A few looked uneasy on my behalf, but most were gleefully anticipating the drama.

In my past life, Eliza had been forced to run this same event.

She had already been bullied and isolated, too afraid to fight back. She bit her lip and ran, only to collapse mid-race. No one helped her.

It was sheer luck that a school doctor passing by saw her and carried her to the infirmary.

Now it was my turn. But this time, the only soft spot I had was for Eliza. For everyone else—I felt nothing. Just indifference.

“Master!” I suddenly stood up and called loudly toward the front of the class, where Lucas was sitting. “Master! Master! Master—!”

He turned around, annoyed. “What?!”

“I’ve been signed up for the 3000-meter race. I can’t run that. I’ll probably die halfway. You’re the master here—do something.”

I said it without a shred of shame.

Lucas: “……”

Charlotte: “……”

In the end, I didn’t have to run the race.

Just one line from Lucas—“Then don’t”—and the sports rep scratched my name off the list immediately.

Zachary, sitting beside me, scoffed coldly. “Nerd.”

“So what? You wanna hit me?”

“Why would I hit you?!”

“Then drop it.”

Zachary ground his teeth and angrily flipped through his textbook.

I knew Charlotte was watching from across the room. I pretended not to see her.

Since then, my life became… more eventful.

One time, someone dumped water on me in the restroom. Soaking wet, I returned to class and stood right in front of Lucas.

“Master, someone dared to hit the dog without asking the owner first.”

Lucas nearly choked on his drink. The whole class stared—probably never expected I’d be this shameless.

After that, no one dumped water on me again. Instead, they stuffed a dead rat in my desk.

I held the rat by its tail and walked up to Lucas again. “Master, someone disrespected your dog—again.”

Lucas turned green at the sight of the b****y mess.

“Get that thing away from me!” he shouted.

I looked hurt and turned to Zachary. “Master Cole, if you take this rat, we can form a master-servant pact right now.”

Zachary went pale, but he was clearly thinking it over.

Lucas, who had just recovered from the shock, barked, “Throw it away! And come back here!”

After that day, no more rats in my desk.

But the bullying just became more elaborate—like framing me for theft.

A girl from the next class lost her gold bracelet. It was valuable, so the school checked the security cameras.

They found footage of me walking past her, and when she returned to class, the bracelet was gone.

So, the teachers and guards searched my desk—and found the bracelet.

The stares from everyone said it all. I was poor, so naturally, I must’ve stolen it.

The teacher looked at me, disappointed. “Evelyn Tran, even if you—”

“Please don’t be disappointed yet, sir. Have it fingerprinted. Let’s see if I’ve even touched it.”

My words caught him off guard.

The girl quickly said, “You probably wore gloves while stealing it.”

I remained calm. “Bring proof, then. Master, Master—someone—”

“Shut up,” Lucas cut in, voice weary. “Check it properly. It’s not hers.”

The girl tried to argue again, but Zachary suddenly added, “At most, she sneaks fruit from the canteen. That’s it.”

I shamelessly added, “Because it tastes good.”

Everyone laughed, the suspicion faded, and I turned to the crowd behind me.

Charlotte Van’s expression was icy cold. I just smiled sweetly in return.

In Eliza’s diary, the biggest turning point was Lucas Heng’s birthday party.

By then, she was already drowning in schoolyard isolation, bullying, and false accusations.

Charlotte, the one who pushed her to the bottom, didn’t even bother to hide her disgust.

With a soft voice and a gentle smile, Charlotte made Eliza crawl on all fours like a dog at the party—no speaking allowed.

That was the breaking point.

Eliza mustered up the last of her courage and begged Lucas to let her quit tutoring and go home.

He sneered, pulled out a video from the party, and said with chilling indifference:

“You can leave. But this video will go viral. A money-hungry girl barking like a dog at a rich kid’s party. Your face is clear as day. Didn’t you have a twin sister too? I bet she’s not much better.”

At just sixteen, Eliza caved under despair.

What followed was even worse—more cruelty, more degradation. She tried to survive, to breathe, to endure.

At eighteen, Eliza was forced to become the girlfriend of Charlotte Van’s private driver—a man in his thirties.

He took pleasure in hurting her.

She resisted. She called the police. She tried to escape.

She did everything she could think of to save herself, but never once succeeded.

How much pain had my Eliza endured over those five years?

How broken must she have been, before death came?

I bit down on my thumb to stop myself from crying, but the last page of the diary broke me:

[On my 23rd birthday, Lucas brought me to a party. They made me drink, spiked my glass, and tore into me like wild beasts. Lucas sat in the middle, watching in silence.]

[Evelyn, it hurt so much. My body hurt. My head hurt. My heart hurt… and then I died.]

I buried my face in my arms, trembling with tears, not realizing when Lucas had entered my room.

He frowned. “Crying makes you ugly.”

I blew my nose into a tissue, voice muffled. “Did you need something, Master?”

“Why are you crying?” Lucas scratched his head, annoyed. “Just because of those pranks?”

Pranks?

Whoever invented that word never imagined it would be used for something like this.

I pulled myself together, trying to sound strong. “No. I just… miss home.”

Lucas froze for a moment, then turned and left with a short sentence: “Let Mr. Yu drive you home.”

I knew then… he no longer saw me the same way.

I didn’t go home. Lucas seemed pleased with that—he was far less snarky these days.

Even the bullying had stopped.

Then, out of nowhere, he insisted on taking me to get a custom-made dress for his birthday party.

I refused without hesitation.

Lucas was clearly irritated. “Evelyn Tran, don’t be ungrateful.”

I flipped another page of my book. “I’m just your classmate and tutor, not some heiress. Why would I need a designer dress? The best way you can thank me is by actually studying.”

Lucas stormed off, furious.

A few days later, Zachary suddenly asked me, “What are you wearing to Lucas’s party?”

I was deep in a tough math problem and answered without thinking: “The maid uniform.”

He went silent.

The next day, he brought a shopping bag—it was a luxury dress I’d once admired.

“For you,” he said, slamming the bag onto my desk, drawing everyone’s attention.

I shrank back. “No, I can’t accept that. Take it back.”

“I gave it. So take it. Don’t be ungrateful.”

Sound familiar?