Chapter 2

From a young age, I was deeply influenced by my family and developed a strong passion for art.

My mother recognized my talent and spent a fortune to send me to the nation's top art academy for training.

As a result, I won numerous teen art competitions.

If I could win the championship in this competition, I would be directly admitted to the renowned Visionary Art University, paving the way for my master's and doctoral studies.

Therefore, this award means the world to me.

After much contemplation, I realized I needed to find a way to prove myself.

Lugging my heavy easel and display board, I headed to the studio.

There were over forty students there, surely they could witness my creative process.

At the very least, no one could accuse me of plagiarism again.

During the creation process, my classmates gathered around me. "Kendra, your sense of color is amazing! You managed to give the green lake such depth!" "Yeah, I think you're definitely going to win this competition and bring glory to our studio!" Listening to their praises, I couldn't help but feel a bit giddy.

But then I thought of Emma and quickly calmed down.

In my previous life, after the incident, my classmates spoke up for me. Some even took out my past works for comparison, proving that both the color sense and brushstrokes were mine. The matter caused quite a stir, even attracting the attention of prominent figures in the art world who studied and compared the works, standing up for me.

But no one believed them.

Emma not only accused me of plagiarism but also acted like the victim, threatening suicide and claiming she couldn't live anymore.

Her tear-streaked face was all over the live stream, with fresh red marks on her wrists.

Ethan was heartbroken and took care of her in the hospital for three days and nights.

After she was discharged, he accused me, demanding an apology as her boyfriend and asking for proof that I didn't plagiarize.

I argued my case, but all I received were insults and abuse.

Emma's paid trolls and her obsessed fans dug up all my information, hurling eggs and rotten vegetables at my door daily. It affected my parents' work, forcing them to leave their school and stop teaching.

When I went out, they cornered me in a back alley, stole my phone, and threw bricks at me, preventing me from calling the police.

I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, seeing my parents grow old and depressed, dying of heartbreak.

My brother was forced to drop out of school due to online harassment and ended up living on the streets.

Remembering the past tragedies, my heart ached. I had to get to the bottom of this and prevent the tragedy from happening again! My brush moved swiftly, as if guided by some divine force. The more I painted, the smoother it felt.

With my classmates as witnesses, I finished the painting in one sitting, not even taking a moment to admire it before quickly uploading it to the art competition's official website. I didn't dare delay for even a minute.

Even if we were telepathically linked and painted the same work, she couldn't upload it at the exact same time as me, right?

Especially with so many classmates witnessing it.

But I was too naive.

As I happily browsed through the competition entries on the website, my smile froze instantly, too shocked to speak. Emma had uploaded her painting at the exact same time and in the same manner as I did! Even the seconds matched perfectly! What was going on?! Not only was I stunned, but my classmates were also taken aback.

They whispered to each other.

"No way, can they share brainwaves? The paintings are identical!" "That's impossible, someone must have plagiarized!"

I thought about switching to my other account and opened her Twitter. Emma had posted a tearful selfie, looking tearful. "My hard work can't be replicated by others."

Instantly, netizens flooded her comments with sympathy. Some even took screenshots from the voting area, threatening to conduct a technical comparison of our works.

She was the classic delicate beauty, naturally evoking a protective instinct.

A brilliant and beautiful writer, who wouldn't be moved by her?

I sighed helplessly and switched back to my main account. In just five minutes, my comment section was overrun by her mindless fans. "Wow, so you're the plagiarist dog? All these years of art competitions, you won by copying?" "I'm a professional art student. I just want to know how you managed to keep the colors consistent." Yeah, I wanted to know too, how did Emma manage to do it?

As I continued scrolling, I saw mean memes of me, even black-and-white photos of me as if I were dead.

"You just want fame, right? I'll help you out. Tonight, I'll come to your house and mess you up."

The insults and threats made me tremble. I had no choice but to turn off my phone and stare blankly at my easel.

It couldn't be, how could this happen?

Did she somehow plant a chip in my brain?