The One Went Up in Flames

I burned my painting right in front of the students and university staff.

Thunderous applause filled the hall.

Everyone thought it was some kind of performance.

But my senior in the graduate program panicked. He rushed forward and grabbed my wrist, his voice tight.

“Connor, have you gone mad? This is your only shot to prove yourself!”

I shook him off, cold.

A chance? That was his chance, right?

During my past life, he stole the painting I poured my heart and soul into and entered it in the competition ahead of me.

The composition, the colors, even my original technique… He copied all of it.

He won the Gold Award for the National Youth Art Competition, signed with a top gallery, and basked in glory.

Meanwhile, I was branded a shameless plagiarist.

The insults and curses overwhelmed me completely.

"Get out of the art scene already!"

“A plagiarist like you should just die!”

His fans stormed my studio, smashed my tools, and broke my right hand.

With my world in ruins, I jumped off the studio roof.

Opening my eyes again, I realized I had returned to the day my senior accused me of plagiarism.

"Connor! What are you still staring at?!"

The door to the studio flew open. My best friend Hayden Tucker burst in, his phone raised high.

I was jolted awake, and my eyes fluttered open. The familiar easel and the unfinished graduation project on it came into view.

I had regressed.

Time wound back to the day Bonnie Lane accused me of plagiarism.

"Go look at the university message board! That scheming Bonnie is at it again," Hayden hissed.

My eyes glanced at Hayden's phone screen.

At the top was a pinned post. The title was, "To All Art Lovers. When My Inspiration is Stolen by Someone Close, What Should I Do?"

He didn't give any names. He simply told a story about a hardworking senior whose work had been shamelessly copied by a so-called genius junior.

Even without being named, everyone knew that genius junior was me.

During the art exams, I was the living legend of our year. When I first enrolled, people already called me a genius.

Bonnie had even attached a comparison photo. One image showed his so-called competition piece. The other was the archived copy of my graduation work that I had submitted to the university database only yesterday.

The composition, the colors, the brushwork, even the "stippling" that I had first proposed in my thesis… Every detail was exactly the same.

Not just similar; they were perfectly identical!

The comments under the post were already blowing up.

"I always had a weird feeling about Connor Stewart. He thinks he's better than everyone else, but he's just a plagiarist."

"They call him the art exam prodigy, right? Please! He probably cut some shady deal with his teachers from prep school."

"Bonnie's just too kind. Even after all this, he still won't spill the beans. If it were me, I'd report that plagiarist until he was expelled!"

"Poor Bonnie. People like that are a disgrace to the art scene and should be thrown out!"

The familiar words pierced straight through my heart.

In my last life, this post was the beginning of my fall into the endless pit of the abyss. I was condemned by everyone and investigated by the university.

My supervisor, Ian Bradley, once looked at me with appreciation. In the end, there was only disappointment in his eyes.

And with me as a stepping stone, Bonnie climbed higher.

He used my painting to win the National Youth Art Gold Award, signed with a top gallery, and enjoyed all the glory that came with it.

I, publicly condemned for plagiarism, ended up leaping off the studio's rooftop.

Staring at Bonnie's innocent-looking face on the screen, my hands slowly curled into fists.

Hayden saw the change in my expression and began to pace, filled with panic.

"Connor, say something! We should go to the professor right now. Show him your drafts, your notes, all of the evidence. We can't let Bonnie treat you like this!"

Evidence?

In my previous life, I had taken out every piece of evidence.

From the notes of my very first idea, to every composition sketch, to detailed analyses of my techniques.

Alas, it was useless.

Bonnie could always produce evidence that came earlier.

He could even explain my creative ideas more smoothly and in more detail than I could.

"Connor!" Hayden shook me nervously.

I raised my head and gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Hayden."

In this life, I would get to the bottom of this.

No matter what!