False Mercy

My roommate was a preachy bleeding-heart.

On our very first day of college, she snatched my electric bug zapper right out of my hand.

Mosquitoes are living creatures too. How can you be so cruel as to kill them?

That night, she threw all our dorm windows wide open, claiming she wanted to leave a door open for the lost little souls outside. I was bitten so badly that I developed a high fever from the allergic reaction. My eyelids swelled so much I could barely open them.

But when I tried to hang a protective mosquito net over my bed, she tore it down, sobbing hysterically.

"How can you be so selfish? You protect yourself in a little bubble, but what about them?"

In my past life, that single sentence was the catalyst. It triggered a wave of public shaming on our campus forum, pulling my roommates, my classmates, and strangers alike into a self-righteous mob. They called me cold-blooded. They said she was just too pure and kind, and that I couldn't even tolerate a few tiny insects.

Ultimately, the severe allergic reaction sent me into anaphylactic shock, landing me in the ICU. Even as I fought for my life, she cried in front of her livestream camera, claiming my hostile attitude had simply provoked the poor mosquitoes.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very first day of college.

She was holding down my bug zapper, her eyes rimmed with red. "You won't hurt them, right?"

Instead of arguing, I pulled out my phone, grabbed my documents, and walked straight to the housing director's office.

"Professor, I'm applying to live off-campus."

If anyone wanted to turn their dorm room into a wildlife sanctuary, they could do it without me.

Advisor Beth looked up from her desk, the orientation roster only half-turned.

"Phoebe? You just checked in. Why are you already asking to commute?"

I placed my admission letter, ID copy, hospital allergy certification, and off-campus housing application on her desk.

"Professor, I have a medical history of severe, life-threatening allergic reactions to insect bites. Right now, my roommate, Lisa, is refusing to let us use any bug spray or zappers, and she won't even let me hang a net."

The office fell dead silent.

A student assistant sorting files in the corner couldn't help but snort. "She won't let you kill mosquitoes?"

Beth frowned. "Phoebe, roommate conflicts should be resolved through communication first. Off-campus approval isn't something we can process in a single day."

Just then, a soft, trembling voice echoed from the doorway. "That isn't a conflict."

Lisa stood by the door, clutching my electric bug zapper to her chest like a shield. She was wearing a simple white cotton dress, her eyes swollen and red, looking as though she were the one who had been deeply wronged.

"Professor, she wants to commit murder."

The smirk on the student assistant's face instantly froze.

Beth stared at the object in Lisas arms. "Why do you have her property?"

Lisa held the zapper even tighter. "This thing is terrifying. I only took it to keep her from doing something awful. Every living thing has a soul, and they feel pain too."

Tears began to roll down her cheeks. "I know everyone thinks I'm strange, but I just wish this world wasn't so cruel."

A few freshmen had gathered in the hallway, peeking through the open door.

"She's so sweet and empathetic," one whispered.

Others began to cast judgmental looks in my direction.

The familiar, suffocating pressure returned to my chest. In my past life, it had played out exactly like this. The moment Lisa shed a tear, everyone automatically assumed she was the victim.

When I said I had an allergy, they accused me of exaggerating. When I said she refused to let me close the window, they claimed it was normal to want fresh summer air. When I said she destroyed my net, they defended her, saying she was just acting out of pure, passionate emotion.

And while I lay mute on an ICU bed, they were busy debating whether I was too cold-hearted.

This time, I didn't bother explaining. I simply looked at Beth.

"Professor, I'm not here to judge her personal beliefs. I am simply requesting to be separated from her."

Lisas sobbing paused. She looked up, tears clinging to her eyelashes. "Do you really hate me that much?"

"I am allergic to mosquitoes," I replied flatly.

As if deeply wounded by my coldness, she took a half-step back. "But they are only trying to survive."

I pulled up my sleeve, exposing my forearm. Several large, angry red welts had already blossomed across my skin, their edges inflamed and hot.

"So am I."

The office fell silent. Beth looked over my medical document, her brow furrowing deeper. "An off-campus application requires parental consent, department approval, and a housing manager's signature."

Lisa sniffled, wiping her nose. "Professor, there's no need to make such a big deal out of this. I'll work hard to help Phoebe understand how beautiful and precious all life is."

I looked at her. "I don't need to understand mosquitoes. And I certainly don't need your effort."

The off-campus application couldn't be approved on the spot. Beth explained that she needed to contact my parents and the housing department to verify the procedure.

Hearing the words "contact parents," Lisa wept even harder. "Please don't call my mother. She'll think I'm causing trouble for others again."

Some of the onlookers at the door softened.

"Professor, maybe let them go back to the dorm and talk it out?"

"Moving out on the very first day doesn't look good for the department."

"They're just girls, a quick chat will clear everything up."

Beth looked at me. Her expression wasn't one of favoritism, but of sheer exhaustion.

University bureaucracy moved slowly, but emotional drama escalated in seconds. Lisa knew exactly how to play the crowd. She clutched the bug zapper, her voice barely a whisper, yet loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear.

"Phoebe, I just want you to carry less hostility in your heart. Mosquitoes are so tiny, they can't even fight back. If we don't protect them, who will?"

In my past life, this was the point where I had backed down. I had worried about ruining roommate relationships on day one, so I followed her back to the room.

That night, she kept the windows wide open and turned off the fan, claiming the breeze would disorient the poor insects. I was bitten repeatedly until four in the morning, my throat swelling and closing. When I reached for my medicine, she cried that the chemical smell would harm them. Later, I was on my knees, clawing at the bed frame as my vision went black.

This time, I placed my phone on the desk and pressed record.

"Professor, I am happy to cooperate with the official process," I said. "But until the off-campus approval is finalized, I will not sleep in that dorm. If the university cannot temporarily assign me another bed, I require a written statement from the office."

"A statement?" Beth asked.

"Yes. Stating that I have submitted medical proof of a severe allergy, and that the university is aware a student in my assigned dorm is actively preventing basic health and safety measures."

Silence blanketed the office once more. Lisas tears dried up instantly. She stared at me, her eyes suddenly cold and unfamiliar.

Beth remained quiet for a few seconds before picking up her desk phone and dialing the housing office. "We have an issue in Dorm Building Two, Room 503. Please send a supervisor up there immediately. A student is reporting that she cannot use preventative measures or nets due to a roommate's interference."

After listening to the reply, Beth's expression grew incredibly complicated. "Yes, I am serious. It's not a joke."

Lisa suddenly lunged toward me. "Why do you have to blow everything out of proportion?" Her voice was sharp, yet she quickly softened it for the crowd outside. "We could have easily learned to understand each other."

Nearby, someone raised a phone to record us. I stepped back. "Don't touch me."

Lisa bit her lip, fresh tears spilling over. "I didn't touch you! Why are you acting like I'm a monster?"

Suddenly, the bug zapper in her arms let out a loud zap. She must have accidentally pressed the power button. A bright flash of blue-purple electricity crackled in the air.

With a shriek, she threw the zapper away. It flew across the room and slammed into a girl's suitcase near the door, leaving a nasty white crack in the plastic shell.

The girl's face went white. "That's my new suitcase!"

Lisa scrambled to her feet, panicked. "I'm sorry! It was an accident!"

The girl shook with anger. "Does an accident mean you don't have to pay for it?"

Lisa turned her watery eyes back to me. "Phoebe, you scared me. That's why I dropped it."

Once again, all eyes turned to me.

Looking at the cracked suitcase, I wanted to laugh. In my past life, it had been the exact same pattern. When she dumped my repellent down the drain, it was my fault for bringing "toxic weapons" into the room. When she tore my net, it was my fault for provoking her. When I collapsed from a fever, it was my own fragile health at fault, not her gentle heart.

Beth spoke up, her voice tight. "Lisa, please write down your details for property damage compensation."

Lisas crying halted. "But Professor, I really didn't mean to."

The girl with the ruined suitcase snapped. "I don't care what you meant! Are you going to pay for it or not?"

Beth closed her eyes. "Let's go to the dorm."

A small crowd had already gathered outside Dorm Building Two.

The building supervisor, the security guard, and the maintenance staff were standing in a line, their faces incredibly grim.

The moment the door to Room 503 was unlocked, a damp, sour odor wafted into the corridor.

The windows were thrown wide open. On the sill sat a half-filled cup of honey-water, several pieces of rotting peaches, and an open trash bag. In the corner of the balcony, a basin of stagnant water sat undisturbed. Mosquitoes swarmed around the ceiling light, their collective buzzing creating a sickening hum in the small space.

The supervisor's face turned a violent shade of green. "Who did this?"

Lisa stood in the center of the room, looking like a martyr. "They get hungry too. The fruit might be ruined for us, but those little lives can still eat it."

The maintenance worker took a deep breath to control his temper. "Miss, this is a student dormitory, not an insect breeding ground. Stagnant water breeds pests, and rotting fruit attracts roaches."

Lisa puckered her lips. "Sir, you're being so mean. They'll get scared if they hear you shouting."

A few students in the hallway snickered, while others defended her.

"Maybe she's just incredibly sensitive? We shouldn't trigger her."

"Honestly, there's nothing wrong with wanting to protect life."

A large mosquito landed on the supervisor's arm. She slapped it instantly, leaving a smear of blood.

Lisa let out a piercing shriek. "You killed it!"

The entire floor fell silent.

The supervisor stared at the blood on her palm, her face darkening. "You need to worry about yourself first."

Just then, our other two roommates, Tess and Hazel, walked up the stairs. Tess's arms were covered in red welts, and she was carrying the torn remains of her mosquito net.

"This was mine," Tess said, her voice shaking.

Hazel carried her washbasin, her expression sour. "She wouldn't let us dump the stagnant water on the balcony. She claimed there might be precious eggs inside."

Seeing them, Lisa acted as if she had found her saviors. "Tess, Hazel, please tell them. You know I didn't mean any harm."

Tess hesitated, looking away. Hazel glanced at me before lowering her voice. "Actually, Lisa is quite pitiful. She's just too kind."

There it was again. She's just too kind.

Every single disaster in my past life had started with that exact phrase.

Lisa choked up. "Phoebe, I really didn't know your allergy was this bad."

I pulled up my sleeve, exposing my arm. The rash had spread from my wrist to my elbow, forming a dense, angry patch of red.

Tess gasped. "You're actually having a reaction?"

Lisa sniffled. "I thought you were just being dramatic because you thought they were dirty."

The tension in the room thickened. I stared at her. "An allergy is not a matter of being dramatic."

She shrank back, tears pooling in her eyes. "I said the wrong thing. Please don't raise your voice at me."

Hazel sighed. "Phoebe, she already apologized."

Before I could speak, a mosquito drifted down from the ceiling light, landing on Lisas neck. A security guard instinctively raised his hand to swat it, but Lisa bolted backward.

"Don't touch it!"

She crashed straight into the shoe rack behind the door. Dozens of shoes clattered to the floor, and a pristine white sneaker landed face-down in the basin of stagnant water.

The owner of the shoe let out a scream of pure frustration. "Lisa!"

In the end, the room couldn't be cleared immediately.

The maintenance staff insisted on chemical fumigation, but Lisa blocked the doorway, weeping and claiming that fumigation was nothing short of a mass genocide.

The supervisor ordered her to throw away the rotting fruit and drain the basin. Lisa clung to the bag of rotting peaches as if she were protecting the last scrap of decency in the world. "But they're still eating!"

Some students offered her tissues, some recorded videos, and others posted updates to the campus forum.

Soon, a thread began to trend.

Compassionate freshman tries to protect innocent lives, driven to tears by cold-hearted roommate.

In the attached photo, Lisa was weeping over her bag of peaches while I stood nearby, my rolled-up sleeve making it look as though I were pointing a finger at her in anger.

The comment section exploded.

"That roommate looks incredibly aggressive."

"Forbidding bug zappers is a bit much, but her heart is in the right place."

"Just because you have an allergy doesn't mean you can lack basic empathy."

"It's just a few mosquitoes. Why can't she be more accommodating?"

Tess handed me her phone, looking incredibly awkward. "Phoebe, do you want to post a statement to clarify?"

Looking at the photo, my chest tightened. In my past life, I had tried to clarify. I had posted photos of my severe hives, my hospital records, and the stagnant water she kept on the balcony.

But no one cared. They only remembered how beautifully Lisa wept.

Beth arranged for me to spend the night in the department conference room. "It's a temporary solution for tonight. I'll push your off-campus application through first thing in the morning."

The conference room had no bed. I had to push two chairs together, the hard wood aching against my back.

Outside the window, Lisa was still crying down by the dorm entrance. Hazel was wrapping a jacket around her shoulders, and Tess was holding a bottle of warm water for her.

Before long, a voice shouted from below. "Phoebe!"

I walked to the window. Lisa was looking up, her tears glistening under the streetlamp.

"I'm willing to help you take care of them! Please don't be mad at me anymore, okay?"

The crowd below began to egg her on.

"She's offering peace, just accept it!"

"She's doing all this, and you're still acting proud?"

"Don't be so heartless to your classmate!"

I slammed the window shut.

My phone buzzed continuously. In our class group chat, someone had shared a screenshot of the forum post. Beth posted a message asking everyone to stop sharing it, but a few sarcastic comments immediately followed.

"Some people really know how to run to the advisor the second they get to campus."

"We have to see each other every day for the next four years."

"Is it a crime to respect life now?"

I took screenshots of all the messages.

At one in the morning, a soft knock sounded on the conference room door. Tess stood outside, her face pale. "Phoebe, Lisa says she can't sleep because the mosquitoes are still buzzing around the room."

I stared at her. "And?"

Tess bit her lip. "She says if you come back, we can all have a proper chat. Otherwise, she won't be able to rest tonight."

"Whether she rests or not has absolutely nothing to do with me."

Tess stammered, "She... she just wants to make peace with you."

"I don't accept."

Suddenly, Lisa came running down the hallway. In her hands, she held a glass jar filled with a pale yellow liquid.

"Phoebe, please, just smell this."

The sticky, cloying scent of honey blasted me in the face. I instantly backed away.

Lisa held up the jar, tears streaming down her face. "This is the food I prepared for them! If you would just smell it, you'd know how much they need us!"

My throat began to itch and tighten.

Tess panicked. "Lisa, get away from her!"

But Lisa acted as if she were deaf, taking another step forward. The mouth of the jar was practically shoved against my chest.

I violently slapped her hand away.

The glass jar shattered on the floor. Sweet honey-water splashed all over the corridor.

Lisa collapsed to the ground, her piercing scream echoing through the entire building.

"She destroyed their food! She's trying to kill me! Help! Murder!"