Reborn: I Quit Fighting Aging to Ruin Her Chapter 01

Reborn: I Quit Fighting Aging to Ruin Her Chapter 01 Let Her Have Her Moment
My so‑called best friend Aria hit me with an aging‑transfer curse. The more she smoked and pulled all‑nighters, the faster I withered.
Terrified of turning old and ugly, I went all in—luxury skincare, the priciest cosmetic procedures money could buy.
But instead of slowing my decay, it only made her younger. Prettier. Radiant.
She rode that “ageless goddess” image straight to the top—a top‑tier beauty streamer pulling in millions per stream. And she stole my boyfriend of six years while she was at it.
I wasn’t even thirty, but I looked eighty. People stared like I was a freak. I couldn’t even step outside.
Then the doctor dropped the news: organ failure. Less than three months.
That was it. I jumped off a rooftop.
And at that exact moment? Aria was livestreaming her birthday bash, wrapped in my boyfriend’s arms—love, fame, everything she wanted.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back. The day of her very first bare‑faced stream.
This time? I was done with the looks obsession. I was done caring.
Let’s see how long that fake face of yours holds up.
…
On screen, Aria was washing off her makeup. Livestreaming.
First stream ever. Barely anyone watching. A few half‑dead comments drifted by:
[No‑makeup stream? So original. Bet the filter’s cranked to max. My grandma could go on and get called a goddess.]
[Boring. I’m out.]
I stared at the screen, a grin twisting my lips. My fingers flew:
[Are you all blind? That face is pure natural perfection. Do you even know what a god‑tier face looks like?!]
Then I dropped a rocket on her.
Right on cue, she lifted her head from the sink.
Under the HD camera, her skin looked flawless. No filter, no procedure—nothing.
Even the chat froze for a second.
Then it exploded.
[Holy crap. She’s the real deal. Goddess energy.]
[Sign with my agency. Name your price.]
…
More viewers flooded in. Comments blurred past too fast to read.
Aria’s eyes flashed with barely contained glee, but she played it cool—flipping her hair, replying in that sticky‑sweet voice.
“Thanks, babes~ All natural, straight from Mom, promise~”
“Oh stop, I’m almost thirty—how could I pass for a high schooler?”
The chat went wild. Everyone begging for her secret.
Aria dropped her gaze, all fake modesty. “Oh, it’s nothing~ Just a cheap face cream, really. The secret? I guess the universe just loves me~”
The viewers ate it up. Crowned her the new ageless goddess.
And I was shaking with rage outside the screen.
The universe loves her? She was draining my youth through that cursed system!
I watched that hypocritical smile on screen, gritted my teeth, and looked up.
In the mirror, wrinkles had crept to my eyes. My cheeks were sagging. Deep lines framed my mouth.
If Aria looked ten years younger, I looked ten years older.
Just like the past life. That curse had already kicked in before her first stream.
Back then, I blamed my crappy sleep schedule. I threw every expensive product I could find at my face.
The more I used, the older I got.
And Aria? She just kept glowing—feasting on me like a parasite.
The day after I jumped, she went live to announce her “new beginning.” That night, she moved into my place and into my boyfriend Eliot’s bed.
And my body? Unclaimed in some morgue.
Just thinking about it burned.
But luckily, fate handed me a do‑over.
She wanted fame? Fine. I’d help her get it.
They wanted an ageless goddess? I’d drag that false idol off her pedestal myself.
Right before she ended the stream, I dropped ten more rockets—instantly becoming her top donor.
Then I dipped. Didn’t even blink.
Sure enough, the friend request from Aria came within minutes.
She sent voice messages, syrupy sweet. “Mister~ Thank you for the rockets~ You made me so happy~”
Then, with perfect “accidental” timing, a few racy photos slipped through—hinting that a little more cash might unlock something even spicier.
I watched her work, a cold smirk tugging at my lips.
“Next stream, I’ll put you in a PK battle. Beat the other girl? Double the gifts.”
The reply came fast. A cute OK sticker.
Hook, line, sinker.
Last time, she used that system to push me into obsessive skincare so she could feed on my youth.
Not this time.
For the next seven days, I did nothing. No skincare. I didn’t even wash my face.
All‑nighters every night. Three packs of cigarettes a day. Liquor and beer mixed like water.
And to make sure I got plenty of sun damage? I baked myself on the balcony at high noon. Like I was trying to destroy my own face on purpose.
I even covered every mirror so I wouldn’t go easy on myself.
Seven days later, dark circles hanging like bruises, cigarette dangling from my lips, I clicked open her stream with a grin—the kind that said if I’m going down, we’re all going down together.
But then I saw her.
Not a trace of aging. She looked younger. Prettier. Even more radiant than before.