My sister was an anorexic influencer.
At 170 centimeters tall, she weighed only 30 kilograms. She was frighteningly thin, but it brought her massive traffic and income.
But more and more people started imitating her, and when her audience dried up, she set her sights on me.
She secretly put sow-heat hormones in my food, making me gain more and more weight. Then she filmed comparison videos of the fat and thin sisters and gained a million followers overnight.
I tearfully asked her why she would do such a thing, but she told me to get on my knees and say I was wrong. The medicine was for her, she said. She had come around and wanted to gain weight.
Worried about her health, I searched everywhere for doctors and remedies, poured most of my salary into her hospital card, and found her healthy weight-gain meal plans.
Yet she mocked me on her livestream.
When I learned the truth, my heart raced. I died because my extreme obesity left my heart without enough blood, while my sister made a fortune from the scandal.
Reborn, I decided to respect each person's fate. If she loved being as thin as a skeleton, then she belonged in hell.
