【When you play the piano, your mother will applaud. When you achieve something great, your father will nod with pride. When you cry, your brot- her’s heart will ache for you… Don’t you want that?]
I mimed a violent gag. “Ah, much better,” I wiped my mouth and scratched my butt. “You can go now.”
The System fell silent. Seeing I was about to go to sleep, it blurted out in a panic: [Host, if you get their Regret Meters to 100%, I will not only resurrect you but also reward you with a billion dollars!)
I stopped in my tracks. “For real?”
[For real. You can be reborn, cherished by your entire family…]
“No, I mean, for real about the billion dollars?”
[… Yes.]
“Well, why didn’t you say so!”
With that kind of money, I could feed every animal in this zoo until they were as fat as pigs!
Alright, I was in.
Chapter 1
But there was a problem. I was just a monkey, trapped on Monkey Mountain with no way out. How
ers to 100%? They didn’t even know it was Isabelle who drove me to my death.
09.32
was I supposed to get my family’s Regret Met-
was Isabelle who bribed our private doctor to fake my medical reports. Without her interference, they would have known about the cancer.
Clearly, if I wanted them to feel true remorse, Isabelle was the biggest obstacle. I had to make them see that she was the one who killed me.
But how?
As I pondered, I saw a woman approaching in the distance, carrying a bag of fresh mangosteens. My favorite.
But the woman was no favorite of mine. It was my mother.
She walked to the edge of the enclosure, right up to the fence, and stared at me, unblinking. She’d been watching me earlier, too. If Isabelle hadn’t
been in such a hurry to wash the filth off her face, my mother probably would have stayed even longer.
I dropped down in front of her. We stood there, separated by the bars, my heart a placid lake.
She offered a mangosteen through the fence, a sad smile on her face. “Hello, monkey. You have such beautiful eyes. They remind me of my dau-
ghter’s.”
on,
Oh, really?
Which daughter would that be?
I glanced up at her Regret Meter. It had climbed to 40%. It was only 30% this afternoon. Did looking into my eyes stir up some old memories?
I took the fruit and bit into it, a bitter laugh echoing in my mind.
Mother, didn’t you used to hate my eyes?
After I returned to the Hawthornes, I was enrolled in a prestigious prep school. It didn’t take long for some of the wealthy heirs to start pursuing
- me. They all said the same thing: my eyes were beautiful, bright and pure. I’d never been the center of attention like that back in the countryside. I
thought I was finally climbing out of the abyss of my own insecurity.
But then Isabelle started a rumor. She said I’d followed a boy into the bathroom. She claimed I’d shamelessly written love letters to five different
boys at once, asking them to meet me at a hotel.
The letters, of course, werelher forgeries.
But my parents were furious. Especially my mother. She was a refined, cultured woman who flinched at the mere mention of sex.
That night, it was pouring rain. She made me kneel on the doorstep, asking me over and over again why I had to be so cheap, so slutty.
I sobbed, repeating that I wasn’t, that I had been framed.
But she wouldn’t listen. She pointed at my face, her voice sharp with disgust. “Look at you, you have the eyes of a hussy! I should just gouge them
out and spare our family the shame!”
She didn’t gouge my eyes out. But she didn’t let me in, either. She made me kneel in the rain for half the night, to “wash the filth off.”
I developed a raging fever from the ordeal. The physical and emotional trauma scarred me, My eyes lost their sparkle, and I became timid and withdrawn. A voice in my subconscious whispered that my eyes were bad, that I was a hussy, that I couldn’t look at boys anymore.
I spent the rest of my school years walking on eggshells, and my eyes never shone again.
And now, here I was, a monkey, and my mother was telling me my eyes were beautiful.
Suddenly, the mangosteen tasted like–ash. I hurled it to the ground, the shattered shell splattering against her shoes.
She stared at me, shocked. She had probably never seen a monkey so violently reject a piece of food.
My father, brother, and Isabelle arrived to find my mother still staring at me in a daze.
Isabelle was all cleaned up, looking pristine again. She ran over and linked her arm through my mother’s. “Mom, what are you looking at? The zoo
is about to close. We can come back tomorrow.”
My mother didn’t respond, her gaze fixed on my retreating form. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “There’s just something… so familiar about that
Chapter 1
monkey…”
Isabelle’s eyes followed her gaze and landed on me. Her face contorted with fury. “It’s
the gorilla on me! We should buy this zoo so I can have her skinned!”
at o
09.32
damned monkey again! Mom, she’s the one who sicced
My father frowned. “Isabelle, that’s enough. A young lady shouldn’t be so vicious. It’s just a monkey.”
“Hmph! I hate her! She bullies me just like Stella used to!” Isabelle’s eyes immediately welled up, a familiar, calculating glint in them.
She was putting on her show again.
When I was alive, she had expertly painted me as a wicked older sister who constantly tormented her and tried to drive her away. She would hide
razor blades in the piano keys, play until her fingers bled, and then run crying to our parents, claiming I had done it to hurt her. She’d even hire thu-
gs to rough her up, then come home and swear I was behind it, threatening to run away from home.
One act after another, she cemented my image as a monster. In my family’s eyes, I was vile, irredeemable.
I used to break down, wondering how my parents and brother could be so blind. Isabelle’s schemes were so childish, so transparent. Why couldn’t they see through them?
It was only later that I understood. It was the difference between being loved and not being loved.
If they love you, they’ll believe any lie.
If they don’t, they won’t believe the most beautiful truths.
By the time I realized this, the cancer was in its final stages. I was already a dead woman walking.
But now, as a monkey, this truth brought me clarity. I would never again be moved by their pathetic displays.
I shot a cold, sideways glance at the family.
My brother, Liam, spoke up. “Isabelle, we know you’ve been through a lot. Stella bullied you, and we didn’t protect you. But she’s dead now. Try to
let go of your anger.”
“He’s right,” my father added, pulling Isabelle into a hug. “Stella brought this on herself. From now on, you’re our only daughter. We’ll love you and
protect you.”
A smug, almost imperceptible smile touched Isabelle’s lips. She nodded, her eyes still red, and graciously decided not to press the issue of the
monkey.
The family left, laughing and even stopping to take a selfie in front of my mountain.
I nearly puked.
But the phone in Isabelle’s hand gave me an idea. I couldn’t speak their language, but I could type their words. A phone… with a phone, I could do
so much.
