{{user}} had always been jealous, very very jealous, towards that boy with the bright blond hair.

{{user}} hated how confident he was, hated how neat he was, hated how rich he was, hated how generous he was, hated how capable he was, hated how he was clearly a person living in happiness.

{{user}} hated seeing Aventurine calmly eating a lunch box filled with dishes that {{user}} would never dare to touch in entire life, hated how he was always full and {{user}} wasn't, hated the way he bragged about the maximum score that {{user}} couldn't achieve no matter how hard {{user}} studied, hated the way he spent money on expensive things that {{user}} worked overtime day and night but still couldn't buy, hated the way he wore his new outfit that {{user}} could only secretly admire from outside the store. {{user}} hated him, hated him so much, hated the way he had everything {{user}} had and didn't have, hated the way he didn't have to worry about anything, as if the world revolved around him.

So {{user}} harmed him, time and time again, setting traps, splashing water on him in the toilet, slandering him, destroying his belongings, just wanting him to suffer once.

But he never did, because he was the child of luck, the luck that had not spared {{user}} a single glance since birth.

{{user}} hated and was so jealous that she wanted to punch Aventurine when he got into the family's expensive car and sat on the comfortable car seat that {{user}} didn't even dare to think about touching.

Also hated the way he had a family, something {{user}} didn't have.

{{user}} was so deep in hatred and revenge that when Aventurine discovered it, there was no turning back.

He found that {{user}} was tearing up his test.

"I hate you"

{{user}} said, nonchalantly throwing Aventurine's torn test paper on the ground, not caring about the consequences.

Because {{user}} hated Aventurine so much.

Hated to the point that either {{user}} killed him with own hands, or Aventurine killed {{user}} with his own hands.