Reborn After Being Killed for My Organs

I scored 705 points and became the provincial champion. My parents were so thrilled they couldn’t sleep the entire night.

They even used a loudspeaker to spread the news to all our relatives, shouting it with pride.

My sister, overjoyed, raised 10,000 dollars as a reward for me and enrolled me in a tour group heading to Canada.

But the moment I stepped off the plane, I was tricked—deceived into joining a scam syndicate.

From that point on, I was abused in cruel, inhumane ways.

They treated me like livestock, like a "piglet" meant only for exploitation.

When I finally seized a slim chance to make a phone call secretly, I was met not with concern—but with fury.

“Who told you to become the provincial champion?”

“This is what you deserve!”

“Ryan Carter, accept your fate and die without causing trouble.”

Eventually, after I was caught trying to steal a mobile phone, they didn’t even bother with anesthesia. They simply harvested my organs—killed me like I wasn’t even human.

Then everything faded.

And when I opened my eyes again, I was stunned to find myself standing back at the boarding gate.

——

In my previous life, right before this trip, my sister had proudly signed me up for that tour group.

My parents kept reminding me of her sacrifices.

“Ryan, your sister sold over a thousand zongzi just to buy you this tour ticket.”

“She stayed up for several nights working.”

“You have to enjoy yourself on this trip!”

“Don’t come home early, or all her efforts will be wasted.”

My dad, especially, was overjoyed—he seemed to sense that something monumental was about to happen.

At the time, I didn’t know what was coming.

I was touched by their gestures, and I hugged them one by one.

Then, I set off on what would become a journey far worse than death.

Even at that moment, before leaving, I was dreaming about the future—

How, once I got into college and won scholarships, I’d take my sister, my brother-in-law, my parents—my whole family—on a trip somewhere beautiful.

But what greeted me after getting off the bus wasn’t scenic views or warm welcomes.

It was a group of intimidating men, waiting to take me away.

Now, back at the boarding gate, looking at my family’s smiling faces as they waved me off—

I was frozen.

“Am I… reborn?”

I jolted awake from my thoughts.

“Sir, sir! It’s time to check the tickets.”

The airport staff nudged me gently. It was almost boarding time.

I turned my head slowly.

My father.

My mother.

My sister.

All of them were still there, standing at the gate, eyes glued to me—watching, expectant, anxious.

It was as if they feared I might back out at the last minute or deviate from their carefully crafted plan.

“What are you standing there for? Hurry up and board!”

“Yes, don’t just stand in the way!”

“There are only five minutes left before departure. If you're going, go. If not, let us through!”

The people behind me were growing irritated.

Some passengers began cursing under their breath, annoyed that I was blocking the way.

“I’m sorry, I need to go to the bathroom,” I said quickly.

I handed my ticket to the group leader and walked off, using the restroom as an excuse.

The ticket inspector tried to stop me.

“There’s a bathroom on the plane. You can use that. We’re running out of time.”

Too late.

I was already running out of time long ago.

I hid in the bathroom for five minutes, counting every second, hoping the plane would take off without me.

When I thought enough time had passed, I stepped out, my heart pounding.

But then I saw my sister—she was furious.

“The plane’s about to leave! What the hell are you doing?” she snapped.

“I’m sorry, I got delayed in the restroom,” I said, apologizing repeatedly.

But deep down, I knew—I had succeeded in missing the flight.

“Hurry, you can still make it. Mom’s holding the plane!” My sister cried out, pointing frantically.

And then I saw it.

A middle-aged woman was standing in front of the plane, physically blocking it—refusing to let it depart.

My mother.