Part 1I Kept The Receipts This Time

My roommate claimed he didn't even have enough money left to buy groceries, begging me to pass along one of my private tutoring clients.

Instead of handing over a contact, I simply forwarded a generic message into our department group chat:

"Brett is looking for private tutoring gigs. If anyone has open slots or leads, please reach out to him."

In my previous life, I had been the consummate nice guy. I gave him the eighth-grade student I’d spent an entire year mentoring.

A week later, Brett burst into the conference room during my direct-track master’s fellowship interview, his clothes torn and disheveled.

"Evan set me up! He told me they were a lovely family, but the minute I walked in, the mother accused me of inappropriate conduct and tried to extort me for thousands..."

"He even took a three-hundred-dollar referral kickback behind my back..."

Right there on the spot, our academic advisor suspended me, threatening to call campus security over alleged conspiracy and fraud.

I lost my fellowship. I was forced to withdraw. My face was plastered all over campus confession boards, drowned in relentless vitriol, until even my parents stopped answering my calls.

It wasn't until after I died that the truth surfaced: Brett had targeted that wealthy mother from the very beginning. He had tried to seduce her, and when she threatened to call the police, he scrambled for a scapegoat—and destroyed me to save himself.

In this life, I wanted to see who he would pin it on when my name was nowhere near the paper trail.

* * *

"Evan... do you have some kind of problem with me?"

Brett’s face was dark, pinched with resentment. Dustin and Troy flanked him like personal bodyguards.

Dustin tossed an arm over Brett’s shoulder, glaring across the room at me. "Evan, if you didn't want to help, you could've just said no. Was it really necessary to humiliate him in front of the whole cohort?"

Troy chimed in, nodding vigorously. "Seriously. You’re already giving up your slots because of your grad prep anyway. Why not just pass your client to Brett? Why make a massive public spectacle out of it?"

I set my phone face-down on the desk, meeting their eyes with flat, unbothered composure.

"Why put all your eggs in my basket? The cohort has better connections than I do. More people, more opportunities."

Dustin pointed an accusatory finger at me, choking on his own indignation.

Brett’s jaw twitched. A sour smile crept onto his lips. "Forget it. It's my own fault for being useless. I shouldn't have burdened anyone."

With a dramatic flourish, he shook off Dustin’s arm and stormed out of the dorm.

Dustin and Troy immediately scrambled after him. Before disappearing down the hall, Dustin shot a venomous glare over his shoulder. "You’ve really crossed a line this time, Evan."

The next morning, a notification popped up in the dorm group chat.

"Hey guys, mind helping me out with a quick referral discount for this ride-share app? Thanks a ton!"

Brett attached a promotional link.

Dustin replied within seconds: "Where are you headed so early, Brett?"

Brett: "First session with a new student. Just locked down a private tutoring gig."

Troy jumped in immediately: "Damn, man! That was fast! How's the pay?"

Brett's response carried an unmistakable smugness: "Fifty an hour, plus covered travel expenses. Gated community in the hills. The parents are loaded and super generous."

Dustin: "Fifty? Isn't that what Evan used to charge?"

Troy: "Talk about luck. First try and you land a gold mine."

The group chat exploded with envious praise.

Over the days that followed, Brett became a ghost, slipping in late and leaving at dawn. Dustin kept preaching to anyone who would listen about how Brett was "grinding like crazy" just to stay afloat.

A week later. The graduate fellowship interview room.

Across the mahogany table, the lead professor listened to my research proposal and nodded, a look of genuine approval in his eyes.

"Your logic is rigorous, Evan, and your theoretical foundation is remarkably broad. Well done."

Just as the knot in my chest began to loosen, the heavy double doors at the back of the auditorium slammed open.

Brett stood in the threshold. His button-down was ripped halfway open, red scratches streaking his neck and collarbone. His hair was matted, his eyes wild with calculated fury. The moment he spotted me, he charged down the center aisle.

"Evan! Why the hell did you set me up?!"

The room plummeted into absolute silence.

The panel of professors stiffened. The lead interviewer frowned deeply, his voice cutting through the chill. "What is the meaning of this? Who authorized you to interrupt this session?"

Brett pointed a trembling finger straight at my face, his voice cracking with theatrical anguish.

"Professors... I’m Evan’s roommate, Brett. I am formally requesting that his fellowship eligibility be revoked immediately. He’s morally bankrupt. He tricked me into taking a tutoring gig, but the moment I arrived, the woman there assaulted me, screamed at me, and threatened to ruin my life by accusing me of harassment if I didn't pay her off!"

He swallowed hard, tears brimming in his bloodshot eyes. "Evan took a three-hundred-dollar broker fee from her. He’s running a predatory extortion ring targeting students!"

A collective gasp rippled through the room.

Our academic advisor, Mr. Briggs, hurried in right behind him, his face pale and furious as he grabbed Brett by the elbow. "Evan Murphy, step outside. Right now."

I remained where I stood, my feet planted firmly, my tone ice-cold. "I never referred him to a single client. Are you telling me a baseless accusation is enough to disqualify me from a fellowship I've spent three years earning?"

Brett snapped, his eyes flashing with raw malice. "Who else could it have been?! The kid is an eighth-grader—the exact same boy you spent the last year tutoring! Nobody else on this campus had their address or contact info!"

In the back rows, a couple of student proctors began whispering.

"Wait, didn't Evan post in the group chat asking around for tutoring jobs for him last week?"

"Holy shit... is that actually true? I thought Evan was the department golden boy."

Every gaze in the room turned on me like needles—doubt, disgust, malicious schadenfreude.

It was an exact, suffocating mirror of the nightmare that had swallowed me whole in my past life.