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This Time, I'm the Fool Novel Cover

This Time, I'm the Fool

After her reputation was destroyed by a roommate pretending to be a ditzy airhead, the protagonist is eventually murdered by the same girl over a petty crush. Poisoned and humiliated, she unexpectedly wakes up on her first day of freshman orientation. Armed with memories of the future, she decides to play the fool herself. This time, she will use her rival's own deceptive tactics to dismantle her life and ensure the 'clumsy' killer faces a taste of her own lethal medicine.
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Chapter 2

Learning to Play the Fool

Recalling everything from my previous life had me unconsciously clenching my fists tightly—yet my face still wore a wronged, pitiful expression. "Why aren't you two saying anything? I really didn't do it on purpose."

As I watched Maisie and Chloe slam the door and storm out, I snorted as I sat back down in my chair. 'Huh! You wanted to play the bimbo? I can do that too.'

…

That weekend, I went to the campus convenience store with Maisie. The moment I spotted Vincent Arden—top student, campus golden boy—wearing an employee uniform, I knew exactly what she was about to do.

Sure enough, the next second, she locked onto Vincent, pretended not to watch where she was going, and hurried straight toward him. But the guy suddenly turned into another aisle. Maisie couldn't stop in time and smashed headfirst into a display shelf. Bottles of sauces came crashing down one after another, splattering across the floor in a huge mess.

The commotion immediately drew a crowd. Realizing she'd caused trouble, Maisie panicked on the spot. Then her eyes met mine. Just like in my memories, she grabbed onto me like a lifeline and waved frantically. "Naomi, don't go!"

That single shout made passersby turn to stare at me suspiciously, as if I were the one who'd caused it all.

In my last life, with the bimbo filter firmly protecting Maisie, everyone believed her without question. No matter how I tried to explain, I'd ended up being forced to pay a full month's worth of living expenses.

This time, just as I was about to pull out the video I'd secretly recorded in advance, Vincent suddenly appeared. He glanced at the mess on the floor, then walked over to me. His first words weren't a reprimand, but gentle concern. "Are you hurt?"

Meeting those calm, deep-set eyes, a thought flickered through my mind, and tears immediately welled up. "You're… you're asking about me? It's all my fault, I—"

Before I could finish, Maisie, seeing that Vincent was concerned about me, hurriedly shoved me aside. "What are you saying, Naomi? I'm the one who knocked over the shelf!"

She stepped shyly in front of Vincent. "Hi, my name's Maisie. Thank you for your concern—I'm not hurt. Would you like us to get to know each other?"

The very next second, a staff member wearing a manager's badge appeared, his expression grave. "In that case, Miss, please come with me to discuss compensation."

Maisie froze, the smile on her lips instantly stiffening.

…

That evening, when I returned to the dorm carrying a stack of exam admission slips, Maisie immediately rushed over, firing questions at me nonstop. "Naomi, what did Vincent say to you when he chased after you today? Where did you two go afterward?"

I paused, recalling the afternoon. While Maisie had been stopped and pressed about compensation, I'd turned around decisively and left. Vincent had hurried after me from behind, calling out, "Hey—wait."

He'd hesitated, then spoken carefully. "Just… be careful of that friend of yours. And I… could I add you on WhatsApp?"

I'd been briefly stunned, thanked him politely, then declined and walked away.

Honestly, I found it a little strange myself. Vincent and I had never really crossed paths. Even in my previous life, I'd only seen him from afar a handful of times. I just knew he was a well-known figure from the neighboring class, always surrounded by people. Unlike me—constantly isolated, always coming and going alone, hovering on the fringes of every crowd. As for him helping me carry my luggage on the first day of school, I hadn't even remembered it until Maisie mentioned it right before I died.

At that, I cupped my cheeks with both hands, put on a shy act, and said coyly, "He didn't say anything, really."

Maisie's expression darkened. She clearly didn't believe me. "You're not going to tell me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" I pouted, copying her usual tone. "But you know me—I'm such a scatterbrain. My head's kinda empty, so I really can't remember."

Maisie rolled her eyes in irritation. "Fine. Forget it, then. Here, I ordered you a drink. Hurry up and drink it."

One look was enough for me to know she was up to no good. Still, I put on a delighted expression. "Wow! Thanks, Maisie!"

Then, under her burning gaze, I slid the straw into the cup.

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