His chest tightened, a sinking feeling pulling down hard in his stomach.
That one sentence—"If you're watching this, then I'm already dead."—
It was already too much to take in.
He's really gone… Max thought, staring at the frozen image of himself on screen. Is this what I think it is?
The kid ended up in the hospital. His body was covered in bruises. Am I about to watch his suicide note?
The idea unsettled him more than he expected.
And if that was the case—would the hospital really have just discharged him like nothing happened?
Still, the truth was impossible to ignore. The real Max Stern was gone. And somehow… he'd taken his place.
He took a deep breath. One of the few advantages of living the life he had was that his emotions weren't easily shaken. If he was going to take over this life—play the part of Max Stern—he needed to understand who the kid really was.
Without hesitation, he clicked play.
And braced himself.
"My life…" the Max on screen said, voice already breaking. "It's been hard. So hard. And maybe, as someone from the Stern family, that's hard to believe."
His voice cracked.
"Things changed when Mom and Dad died. And the more I think about it… with everything that's happened, I don't even know if it was an accident."
The Max in the video pulled his knees into his chest, hunching forward. He rocked gently, like he was trying to find some small, familiar comfort in the middle of his pain.
Eventually, the Max on screen wiped his tears away. His expression changed. There was still pain in his eyes, but now there was something else behind it. A spark.
"But I can't give up," he said, voice steadier. "I won't. That's why… I'm going to fight back, in my own way."
He looked straight into the camera.
"The reason I'm making this video is so that if someone finds it… they'll know. I, Max Stern, didn't kill myself."
Max blinked at the screen, surprised.
He hadn't expected that.
And judging by the look in the kid's eyes, it wasn't fake. This was real—raw. The face of someone who had been pushed too far, for too long… and had finally decided to fight back.
And where did it get him? Max thought, jaw tightening. In a hospital bed, with bruises all over his body.
The Max on screen let out a heavy sigh before continuing.
"There are people… people who've made my life miserable. Every one of them has hurt me in their own way. And I swear, I'm going to get back at them. All of them."
He hesitated, glancing away for a second—then looked back at the camera.
"But if this video ever gets out, I don't know which one of them will see it. And I'm sure… somehow, they'll twist this too. Use it against me. Or worse—use it to go after the people I care about."
"That's why I'm recording this. Not just to vent. But to find the truth. To finish what I couldn't."
His eyes narrowed.
"All of these people hurt me in some way… but one of them… one of them killed me."
Max was making a mental note of everything being said. It was obvious this video had been made for someone—but who? A friend? A family member? Maybe even Aron? One thing was clear—it wasn't meant for him.
Not for someone with no context. Not for someone who had taken over Max Stern's life.
I should probably ask Aron what really happened, Max thought. He hasn't said much about it, and I never pushed… maybe there's a reason. Still, judging by how he acted today, I doubt he's involved.
On screen, the boy's voice cut through Max's thoughts.
"Remember the following names…"
Max immediately pulled out his phone and started jotting them down.
There was no way he'd remember them all otherwise—and something about watching this video again just didn't sit right with him. It felt too personal.
One by one, the names were listed. And then, after the last one… silence.
"I'm sorry for putting all of this on your shoulders," the Max in the video said quietly.
And just like that, the screen went black. The video was over. Max slowly closed the laptop. It felt like he had just peeked into someone else's soul. Like he'd read a diary that was never meant to be opened.
And now, he couldn't unsee it.
"So… these are all the people who wronged you, huh?" Max muttered, scanning the list on his phone. "It's a long one. Some of these names don't surprise me… but others? I don't even recognize half of them."
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
"If I had to guess, maybe I'll meet a few of them at school."
His fist clenched tightly. Frustration bubbled up inside him.
"But why?" he growled. "Why didn't this idiot say what these people actually did to him?"
Max punched the air in front of him, breathing heavily.
"How's anyone supposed to help you if they don't even know what happened? No details, no context—just a bunch of names! How was this video supposed to help anyone?"
The more he learned about the kid, the more irritated he became.
It almost felt like the real Max had wanted to make things difficult. Like he'd purposely left behind a puzzle without giving anyone the pieces.
That night was Max's first real sleep in his new body. And it was… an experience.
His dreams were a wild blur—memories from his past life flashing by in waves. Everything he'd done, every decision that had brought him to the top… and the consequences that came with it.
But one thing echoed louder than anything else. The last voice he'd heard before he died. Repeating. Over and over.
Until—
Beep. Beep.
Max opened his eyes and instantly reached for his phone, shutting off the alarm. For a split second, he half-expected to wake up in his old life—in his old body. But the plain, cramped room staring back at him confirmed otherwise. He was still here. Still Max Stern. Still in this body.
As he blinked the sleep out of his eyes, he noticed a couple of notifications.
Messages from: "Stalker."
He rolled his eyes and tapped them open.
"Just making sure you're up. If you're not feeling well enough to go to school, message me. I'll inform them.
In case you forgot—your bag and books are usually stored under your bed."
The second message came in right after.
"Also, here's the location of your school.
I don't know how much you remember, or how much I need to explain.
Honestly, with how much you've forgotten, I'm surprised you still remember how to speak.
Did you forget how to read a map too? Should I send instructions for that as well?"
Max stared at the screen.
Since the messages were all in text, it was hard to tell if Aron was being serious… or if this was his version of a joke.
Does that guy even know how to joke? Max wondered, shaking his head.
Max crouched down and looked under the bed, just like the message said.
Sure enough, there was a bag—half-zipped and stuffed haphazardly out of sight.
He dragged it out and unzipped it the rest of the way, figuring it couldn't hurt to take a quick look inside.
Might as well remind myself what school life's actually like, he thought.
The first book he pulled out was bright orange, and right on the front, a name was scrawled in permanent marker:
Max Smith.
Max blinked.
"That's… not his name."
Curious, he grabbed the rest of the books and flipped through them one by one.
All of them had the same thing written on them.
Max Smith.
There was no way it was the wrong bag—it had clearly been used by this Max.
So why is he going by another name at school? Max thought, narrowing his eyes. Does no one there know he's a Stern? But why keep that a secret?