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In my last life, a plagiarism scandal destroyed me. For ten years, every single line of code I wrote appeared on my “genius junior’s” social media. The internet mob tore me apart. The academic world cast me out. In the end, my mother and I died in disgrace. Even in death, I couldn’t clear my name. I never understood why the robot I had spent a decade perfecting would obey my junior, who couldn’t even write code. Suddenly, I returned in time—one month before her meteoric rise. This time, I wiped every code I’d ever written. Let her be the “genius.” I’m done playing her game. I busied myself forwarding discounts on a shopping app while she and her professor father panicked. They demanded to know why I’d walked away from success. I just smiled, pulled out my phone, and shared another shopping link.