I Got the Death Offer, But I Refuse to Die

Linnea's POV

I ranked first and snagged the most prestigious job offer in the city. Yet, not a single person congratulated me.

Because for the past twenty years, every top student who received this offer from the medical school "committed suicide" that very night.

Reporters blocked the school gates, grinning as they asked if I planned to jump off a building or swallow a bullet. My roommate grabbed my collar, screaming curses, wishing me dead.

Too bad they all completely miscalculated. I come from a filthy rich family, I’m perfectly sane, and top psychologists have signed off that I have zero suicidal tendencies. I have no reason to die.

So, I looked straight into the live cameras and declared: "If my body is found tomorrow morning, it’s not suicide. It’s murder!"

After all, for that final exam, I turned in a blank paper.

"Are you insane, Chloe? You're actually studying?"

Madison stared at our roommate, who was frantically flipping through notes, as if looking at a terminally ill patient.

"Shut up, Madison." Chloe didn't look up, her pen scratching violently against the paper. "Tomorrow is the graduation exam. As long as I rank first and get the offer from the Cordell–Pryce Medical Center, I can finally leave that godforsaken slum forever."

"Leave? You’ll be moving straight into a grave!" Madison sneered, her voice spiking. "Are you deaf? For twenty years, every single student who ranked first at Aldermere Medical School—every person who got that top offer—'committed suicide' that same night! How did Theodore Lankin die last year? A billionaire heir with two private jets, yet the night he got the offer, he shoved a gun in his mouth and blew his brains out!"

"That's because you rich kids are mentally fragile!" Chloe shot up, her chair screeching harshly against the floor. The sudden movement flung a pendant attached to a thin chain out of her shirt. Without pausing her tirade, she instinctively grabbed it and tucked it back in. "What cursed death offer? That's just a lie made up by you privileged elites! Even if you rank dead last, your families can just buy you an attending physician position. You made up this urban legend to scare everyone else off so you can monopolize the best resources!"

The gunpowder in the air was suffocating. I leaned back in my chair, watching them fight with a cold indifference.

In Calderwell, medicine was the ultimate totem of power. Ranking first at Aldermere was a golden ticket straight to the elite inner circle. It used to be a glory everyone fought tooth and nail for; now, it was a terrifying death sentence.

"Say something, Linnea! Tell this idiot what she's messing with!" Madison snapped, turning to me.

I stopped spinning the pen in my fingers and looked calmly at Chloe. "The highest salary in the world is useless if you’re dead."

"Don't you dare lecture me with that condescending tone!" Chloe glared at me, teeth clenched.

"You're an unreasonable fool," Madison spat, giving up the argument.

I didn't say anything else. From my first day at this medical school, my parents—Garrick and Coralie—had given me only one ironclad rule: Never rank first.

Because first place meant death.

The next morning. The medical school exam hall.

This should have been the sacred moment deciding our futures, but it was as absurd as a circus.

The guy to my left was coloring his answer sheet into the shape of a giant middle finger. The girl to my right was snoring on her desk, drool soaking her test paper. On the podium, the proctoring professor was playing Texas Hold'em on his iPad, barely lifting an eyelid.

Everyone knew the score. No one wanted to be first. The rich kids deliberately bombed to avoid the death offer. The poor kids, no matter how desperate, were mostly terrified by the twenty-year death toll and intentionally skipped the final questions.

Three days later, morning. The dorm room.

Today, the results and offers were being released. The tension in the air was suffocating.

Chloe violently crashed through the door like a rabid lioness. She grabbed my collar, her eyes bloodshot and terrifying.

"You lying bitch!" she screamed, spit flying into my face. "Is this a sick game to you rich people? Playing the poor for fools, crushing our hopes—does it feel good?!"

"Let go! Are you crazy?" I shoved her shoulders, breaking free.

"I'm crazy? You swore you didn't want the offer! You said you'd fail on purpose!" Chloe roared hysterically, slamming a crumpled piece of paper into my face. "Why did you have to destroy my only chance to turn my life around?! You're despicable!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

With a cold expression, I bent down, picked up the paper, and slowly unfolded it.

It was the official ranking list from Aldermere Medical School.

When I saw the bold black text at the very top, my heart skipped a beat.

1st Place: Linnea Hartwell