Behind Every Entrance Exam Top Scorer's Suicide

Genevieve's POV

Every year, on the day college entrance exam results were released, the top scorer in our city would mysteriously commit suicide. The higher their score, the more horrific their death.

In that case, the police formed a special task force to investigate, but no matter what they did, they couldn’t figure out why it kept happening.

As fear spread among students, some even deliberately scored lower just to avoid becoming the top scorer.

But not me.

I studied harder than anyone else and ended up with a perfect score, the highest in our city’s history.

Because three years ago, my sister was the top scorer, and I watched her die with my own eyes.

So, I was going to make them pay for her.

——

My dad died the year I was born. Since then, Mom raised me and my sister all on her own. She took on every kind of dirty, exhausting job just to keep us fed and in school.

A lot of men offered to marry her, saying if she agreed, they’d help raise us. But Mom always turned them down. She was afraid we’d suffer if she remarried.

Because of her, my sister and I studied hard as we wanted to give her a better life.

Three years ago was my sister’s turn to take the college entrance exam. By then, the suicides of past top scorers had already become a terrifying pattern, and everyone knew about it.

All the top students were anxious, afraid they’d score too high and meet the same fate.

I remember warning my sister, begging her to aim lower, so she wouldn't be the top scorer.

But she just smiled at me and said, “I’ve worked this hard for years so you and Mom could have a better life. I’m not going to throw that away. Don't worry, I won't follow their leads.”

“And besides,” she added, “I think all those suicides were just coincidences. I want to break the curse. I’m going to be the top scorer this year.”

And she did it. She only made a few mistakes, making her the top of the city.

But on the very day her score came out, my sister, who swore she would never take her own life, jumped off the rooftop without hesitation.

She didn’t say a word before she died. Just looked at Mom with this strange, heavy stare, then stepped off the edge.

She landed headfirst.

The scene was brutal.

Clutched in her hand was a bloodstained note with one sentence on it.

[Genevieve, whatever you do, don’t become the top scorer.]

I held her broken body in my arms, screaming in agony.

But Mom, who loved my sister very much, just stood there, watching with not a single tear in her eyes.

I asked her why she didn’t cry.

Her voice was cold and flat as she replied, “She wanted to be the top scorer. She had no one to point fingers at.”

I didn’t understand.

Mom used to fall apart if my sister got sick. But now, seeing her own daughter die like that, she barely reacted.

I couldn’t forget the way my sister looked at Mom right before she jumped. Something about that look haunted me.

It made me wonder if Mom had something to do with her death.

But why would she?

And how could my sister, who loved her li...