Chapter 1

After becoming the heir to the prestigious Silk Tapestry Heritage, I decided to quit the National Artisan Showcase.

Mia Hart, the most popular craft influencer right now, immediately requested a live split-screen with me.

"You've been stealing my ideas over and over again, and I've been patient! Why are you quitting now?" she sneered.

"Are you getting cold feet because you're afraid the world will see you for the fraud you are?"

In my past life, at this exact showcase, Mia submitted a piece that was an identical twin to mine.

I turned to my mentor and my junior fellow, hoping they would testify for me.

But they stayed silent, eventually telling the judges, "She's young and impulsive. Please, just give her another chance."

With those words, I became a pariah, a labeled thief whose reputation was dragged through the mud.

The public shaming was relentless, and the weight of the insults and despair eventually crushed me.

I ended up dying alone from a severe lung infection in a cramped, damp apartment, penniless and broken.

But when I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the week before the showcase began.

1.

"Evelyn, I signed you up for the Artisan Showcase! With your skills, first place is practically yours!"

I froze for a second, then a violent fit of coughing took over.

Ben, my junior fellow, quickly patted my back. "Hey, don't get too excited now!"

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. It wasn't excitement―it was pure, cold rage.

I had entered this exact competition in my previous life.

Back then, I had already gained some fame as a small influencer, showcasing my intricate embroidery work.

My mentor told me this showcase was a golden opportunity to let more people see the beauty of our traditional crafts.

I was full of dreams when I submitted my best piece of embroidery.

However, as soon as it was turned in, the judges realized it was a carbon copy of Mia Hart's work.

She had showcased her piece a step ahead of me, claiming it was her original creation.

She even produced a stack of design drafts, showing every single revision and detail.

I was horrified, desperately explaining that I was the original creator, begging my mentor and Ben to back me up.

But in the face of the media's scrutiny and the internet's firestorm, they stayed silent.

Finally, they told the world, "Evelyn is young and doesn't know better. It was likely an honest mistake. We hope everyone can forgive her."

The internet exploded with mockery and hatred.

"Does she think she can just plagiarize because she calls herself a 'tradition bearer'? How disgusting!"

"Kick her out of the artisan circle! People like her should never touch a needle again!"

Even my mentor's school suffered a blow to its reputation because of me.

Tagged as a "plagiarist," I found every door in the industry slammed in my face.

High-end studios, small workshops, even local craft fairs―nobody wanted anything to do with me.

To survive, I had to take backbreaking manual labor jobs.

The cold, damp conditions made my cough worse, and I started spitting up blood.

Eventually, because I couldn't afford medical treatment, I died in that dark, narrow rental room, choking on my own blood.

But now, I was back. I was back before the showcase even started!