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In my previous life, Leopold Austin's first love, Monica Miller, took a knife meant for me and died. He hated me for it, so much that he locked me away and tormented me for years. By the time I turned 22, I was completely drained, both body and soul, and I just couldn't take it anymore. I chose to end it all by slitting my wrist. The last thing I saw before dying was Leopold's bloodshot eyes. He warned me, "If you had another chance at life, don't ever love me again, and don't get between me and Monica." So I didn't. When I opened my eyes, I was back in my senior year classroom. Outside, a basketball game was roaring. Leopold pushed the door open and carelessly tossed his school jacket into my arms. He said, "Hold this for me. Monica's coming to watch the game in a bit." For the first time, I didn't rush to meet him with that usual excitement in my heart. He didn't know it yet. This time, I'd make sure to stay far away from him.