Chapter 1

Fed up with my neighbors constantly freeloading off my Wi-Fi, I decide to change the network name to "Invincible Wall-Piercing Baby Killer".

The next day, the woman next door—pregnant with triplets—collapses outside my apartment, clutching her stomach. "Who told you to change your Wi-Fi name? Don't you know that by changing it, I'd miscarry my triplets?"

The whole family has lost their minds, I tell myself. After all, how can changing the name of a Wi-Fi network possibly affect an unborn baby, let alone three of them?

A week later, her burly husband shows up at the entrance of our apartment complex, eyes bloodshot. He holds three ultrasound scans in one hand and a surgical report for a miscarriage in the other.

"Murderer!" he shouts at me. "Your damn Wi-Fi signal went through the walls and killed my three unborn babies!"

They start livestreaming on TikTok. They weld my front door shut, then, in front of more than a million viewers, hold up an "expert report" claiming that electromagnetic radiation has caused the miscarriage.

"Enjoy spending the rest of your life behind bars, murderer!"

My girlfriend of five years is doxxed. She can't take the harassment anymore and jumps off a building. Although she ultimately survives, she's left in a permanent vegetative state.

I become the target of a nationwide hate campaign. Not only do I lose my job, but I also have to sell my home. I'm saddled with crushing compensation that I'll be paying off for the rest of my life.

To atone for my so-called crime, I work construction day and night just to support my neighbors' family. In the end, I lose my footing on the scaffolding and fall to my death.

Even as I die, I still can't understand how changing the name of a Wi-Fi network can make someone miscarry.

When I open my eyes again, I return to the very day it all begins.

Chapter 1

When I opened my eyes, I found myself sitting in front of my computer. On the screen was the Wi-Fi name I had just changed—Invincible Wall-Piercing Baby Killer.

The memory of working myself to death on that construction site from my previous life came crashing back like a knife through my skull. I jerked in my chair and lunged for the keyboard on instinct.

My fingers flew across the keys as I frantically changed the network name to "Unit 402".

I hit Enter repeatedly until the system confirmed the change. Only then did I slump back in my chair and let out a long breath.

Now that I had changed the ridiculous Wi-Fi name in time, that family would have no reason to come after me.

The next second, someone pounded on my door. It wasn't knocking, but pounding. Heavy fists slammed against the metal door one after another, each thud sounding like a call from hell.

Before I could even get up, I heard the pregnant woman next door, Lynette Miller, wailing from the hallway. "Open up! Open up right now!"

I looked through the peephole. Lynette, pregnant with triplets, stood outside clutching her stomach, her face ghostly pale. Her husband, David Butcher, was beside her.

Built like a tank, he owned the neighborhood barbecue stand. His arm alone was thicker than my thigh. His bloodshot eyes always looked ready to kill.

"That Wi-Fi name you changed!" Lynette shrieked, gripping her belly, her voice trembling with panic. "Don't you know it'll make me miscarry? Why did you have to change it to that? My babies… My babies…"

Instinctively, I turned to look at my computer screen. The Wi-Fi name in the status bar was still there, plain as day—Invincible Wall-Piercing Baby Killer.

My mind went blank. I had clearly changed it.

The system had confirmed the update was successful. The router's admin page showed the current name as "Unit 402", but the network in the status bar still displayed those same accursed words.

"I changed it!" I shouted through the door. "The system says it's been changed! I don't know why it's still showing up as that!"

"Bullshit!" David roared, slamming his fist into the door so hard the entire thing rattled. "If anything happens to our babies, I'll make you pay with your life!"

I rushed back to my computer, opened the router settings again, typed in "Unit 402" one more time, and hit Enter. It said the modification was successful.

I refreshed the status bar, yet somehow, the Wi-Fi name still read "Invincible Wall-Piercing Baby Killer".

Outside, Lynette let out another bloodcurdling scream. The cry pierced through the door, the walls, and my body, scraping against my bones like a dull blade.

My hands froze over the keyboard. Cold sweat instantly soaked through my back.

I counted in my head. I had confirmed the change once, and she had screamed once. Swallowing hard, I gritted my teeth and clicked Confirm again.

Then came another scream, sharper than the first. Soon, it dissolved into a string of agonized moans and desperate sobbing.

"What the hell are you doing?" David barked, pounding on the door like a madman. "You're still changing it! You're fucking doing it again! Are you trying to torture my wife to death?"

I panicked, truly. Like a man possessed, I kept changing the network name, typing it in and hitting Confirm over and over.

Every single time, the system insisted the change had gone through. Every single time, the status bar refused to budge.

In the end, I changed it more than a dozen times. Outside, Lynette had also screamed more than a dozen times.

Each scream was weaker than the last. By the end, they were barely audible, fading into faint moans that sounded like her life was slipping away.

The hallway had descended into chaos. Alerted by the screams, the neighbors poured out of their apartments. Some screamed, some called an ambulance, and some pounded on my door.

Over all the noise, David's furious bellow drowned out everything else. "Everyone, look at what that bastard's done! He changed his Wi-Fi to some baby-killing name, and my wife is standing right here.

"Every time he changes it, she screams in pain! There's blood all over the floor! At this rate, it'll be four lives lost in one go! Does this monster have even a shred of humanity?"

"Open up!" one of the neighbors yelled, joining in. "What kind of man hides like a coward? Open the door!"

"How could you do this to her and still cower in there?" another shouted. "Are you even a man?"

I stared at that damned Wi-Fi name on my screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard with full-blown hesitation. In the end, I yanked the power cord out of the router, flipped the cheap thing upside down, and slammed it onto my desk.

That had to kill the signal.

Suddenly, my phone lit up. Someone in the neighborhood group chat had posted a screenshot. It showed the list of available Wi-Fi networks. Then there it was, plain as day—Invincible Wall-Piercing Baby Killer.

The signal was at full strength. I looked down, the router's power cord still in my hand, the unplugged adapter swinging by my feet.

Immediately, I snapped a photo of the unplugged router and posted it in the group. I wrote, "The router's unplugged, yet the Wi-Fi is still there."

The group chat exploded.

"What the hell? It's still broadcasting after you unplugged it?"

"Paranormal activity?"

"Paranormal or not, the pregnant woman's dying out there. Get your ass outside!"

I didn't move. Instead, I crouched beside the front door, gripping the unplugged power cord.

Outside, Lynette's moans grew weaker by the second. David's furious screams echoed down the hallway, accompanied by the neighbors' accusations. Then, in the distance, I heard the wail of an ambulance.

Chapter 2

I stared at the Wi-Fi name that refused to change. My back was snug against the front door, which shuddered with every blow from David outside.

His voice had gone hoarse from screaming, rough and ragged as he roared, "Get out here! If my wife loses our babies, I'll make you pay with your lowly life!"

I didn't open the door. I stayed crouched against it, clutching the unplugged power cord, with only one thought—I could not let this life end the same way as the last one.

Last time, they turned the whole thing into a public spectacle. They livestreamed everything. The internet doxxed me. My girlfriend jumped off the building, while I eventually worked myself to death on a construction site.

The ambulance came and left soon after.

Gradually, the commotion in the hallway died down. Only a few neighbors lingered outside, whispering among themselves.

I never stepped outside or even turned on the lights. Just like that, I sat there in the darkness, staring at the stubborn Wi-Fi name, until dawn.

Early the next morning, before I could come up with a plan, someone knocked on my door again. This time, it wasn't violent pounding; it was slow and calm.

There were six measured knocks with a pause in the middle. Somehow, it felt like a debt collector announcing his arrival, though reality proved that I wasn't that far off.

I peered through the peephole. Five or six people were standing outside.

Lynette sat in a wheelchair, her face sallow. A blanket covered her protruding belly, and she looked utterly drained. Behind her stood David with his hands on the wheelchair.

Aside from him, there were also two elderly couples. Judging by the resemblance, I surmised they were both sets of parents. The last man was middle-aged, wearing glasses and carrying a leather briefcase, his expression all business.

I cracked the door open just enough to show half my face.

David's eyes turned bloodshot when he saw me. However, this time, he didn't yell. He deliberately forced down his anger and adopted a low, restrained voice.

"Four thousand dollars, hospital bill. You can decide whether you want to transfer it or pay cash. That's for the hospitalization and the medication to keep the babies alive."

As he spoke, the man with the briefcase pulled out a stack of paperwork and slid it through the gap in the door. There were emergency room fees, hospital admission deposit, medication to prevent miscarriage, follow-up ultrasound charges…

On top was the admission form. The diagnosis read, "Threatened miscarriage. Uterine contractions induced by severe emotional distress."

I pushed the papers back. "I told you. A Wi-Fi signal can't go through walls and affect an unborn baby. Besides, our apartments aren't even next to each other. There's another unit between us."

"So, you're saying this has nothing to do with you?"

Mrs. Miller rushed forward from behind and jabbed a finger in my face. "My daughter went into labor pains right outside your door, and you dare say you're not responsible? Everyone saw that disgusting Wi-Fi name of yours!"

"Was that even my router?" I shot back, my voice rising. "I unplugged the power cord, yet the Wi-Fi signal was still there. You think that's my fault? How's that my fault?"

I scoffed. "I even posted a photo of the unplugged router in the group chat. If we're talking about responsibility, let's start with actual evidence! The router was disconnected. There's no way my Wi-Fi should've still been broadcasting!"

The man in glasses finally spoke. His tone was calm and measured, as if he were negotiating a business deal. "Mr. Sam Dickson, right? I'm the attorney representing the Butchers. As things stand, the situation isn't looking very favorable for you."

He held up three fingers. "First, the Wi-Fi name was indeed being broadcast from the router registered to your apartment. Second, you repeatedly changed the network name, and every single change coincided with my client's contractions.

"Third, the hallway security cameras can verify exactly when those changes were made."

He adjusted his glasses. "If you're unwilling to settle this privately, we can certainly take the legal route. But if it comes to that… we're no longer talking about just four grand."

At some point, our neighbors had filled the hallway.

The elderly woman who had berated me for "not being a man" last night was the first to chime in. "Young man, if you did it, own up to it. Look at that poor woman. She's in a wheelchair. How can you still deny it?"

The middle-aged man from upstairs joined in. "Just pay them. If this ends up in court, you'll be the one with the most damage."

Then, my across-the-hall neighbor spoke. He had been the first person to open his door after David started shouting last night.

Standing at the front of the crowd, the old man looked at me with the weary disappointment of an elder reprimanding a stubborn child.

"Kid, you've got to admit it when you've done something wrong. She's carrying three babies. If they don't make it, will you truly be able to live with yourself?"

I tightened my grip on the doorknob until my knuckles turned white. Every single voice in my radius was speaking for the Butchers. They were all telling me to take accountability.

If I refused, I was heartless, a deadbeat, a man trying to dodge what he owed. Every time I tried to argue, they came back with the same answer.

"The router doesn't make any sense."

"There's no other explanation."

"You must've done something."

I had no proof that the Wi-Fi signal had nothing to do with me, and in the absence of proof, everyone simply assumed it did.

My hand was shaking as I transferred the four thousand dollars, not because of the money, but because of the humiliation. It was reminiscent of when someone forced your face into the dirt and demanded you admit they were right.

I didn't waste another second after that. That very morning, I contacted a realtor and rented an apartment on the far east side of the city, as far away from this neighborhood as I could get.

I told no one, paid three months' rent up front, and even threw in an extra month's agency fee to speed up the paperwork.

That afternoon, I packed. By the evening, I moved out. I left the old router behind, tossing it straight into the dumpster downstairs.

When I got to my new place, I unboxed a brand-new router. It had never been opened before, and I was the one who peeled the factory seal off the packaging.

When it came to setting the Wi-Fi name, I hesitated for five whole minutes. In the end, I carefully typed in something that couldn't possibly be connected to babies or miscarriages.

"Nice Weather Today".

Just three words, no hidden meaning, no room for misunderstanding.

I pressed Enter. The modification was successful. The status bar refreshed, and the name read exactly as I had set it.

I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. A new router, a new Wi-Fi name, a new apartment, and even a new internet provider. Surely, that should do the trick. This life wouldn't be anything like before.

Early the next morning, I was jolted awake by the sound of someone cooking. The noises were muffled through the wall—not from upstairs or downstairs, but from the unit next door, the wall directly against my living room.

Then, I heard a woman's gentle voice, softly talking to her children. "The three of you better be good in there. Stop kicking Mommy, okay?"

I recognized that voice.

I shot out of bed and lunged for my computer. In the bottom-right corner of the screen, the Wi-Fi name sat there as quietly as ever.

"Invincible Wall-Piercing Baby Killer".

I yanked open my front door and sprinted into the hallway. At that exact moment, the apartment next door opened, too.

A pregnant woman stepped out, her huge belly leading the way. She held a mug of hot water in one hand. When she saw me, she tilted her head ever so slightly and smiled.

In all my lives, I had seen that smile twice.

The first time was when I had finally admitted to setting that problematic Wi-Fi name in my previous life. The second was when she had first blocked my doorway in this life.

"What a coincidence. We're neighbors again," she said.

Chapter 3

After saying that, Lynette turned and went back inside with her mug of hot water. She didn't shut the door all the way, leaving it slightly ajar.

From inside, I could hear her humming a cheerful tune, the kind a perfectly ordinary expectant mother might hum on a perfectly ordinary morning.

I went back into my apartment and called my girlfriend. "Claire, can your dad's research institute run an electromagnetic radiation test for me? I mean the most authoritative kind possible. Something that'd hold up in court."

Claire Wilson was silent for a few seconds before solemnly asking, "What's going on?"

"It's a long story. Just help me make the appointment, please. The sooner, the better."

That afternoon, I walked into the city's most authoritative electromagnetic radiation testing laboratory with the brand-new router cradled in my arms.

Claire was already there, waiting for me outside. Her father was the institute's deputy director, and he had arranged for their most senior engineer, Sylvan Rockman, to handle the testing personally.

He donned a white lab coat and gold-rimmed glasses. A row of instruments I couldn't name covered the workbench. Waveforms danced across multiple monitors as the machines hummed to life.

"Set the router here. Hook up the spectrum analyzer… Field strength meter in position."

Without even looking up, Sylvan adjusted the equipment while reading off the measurements.

"Operating on the 2.4-gigahertz band. Transmit power is on the low side… With these specs, getting through a single brick wall is about the best you can expect. Beyond that, the signal degrades so badly you'll have trouble maintaining a connection."

I only asked the most crucial question, "Can it harm an unborn baby?"

Sylvan looked up at me, as if I had just asked the most idiotic question in the world.

"Young man, your router doesn't put out enough power to reliably cover the room next door, let alone penetrate a living room wall and affect your neighbors. If you're worried about radiation, you'd be better off giving up your cellphone first.

"A phone emits far more radio-frequency energy than a home router. When it's in your pocket against your thigh, it's ten thousand times closer to you than your router ever is."

To that, I said, "I need a report—an official one, with your institute's seal."

Sylvan shrugged. He turned to the printer, printed out a report, stamped it with the institute's official red seal, and handed it to me.

Verified and validated, the conclusion read, "The electromagnetic radiation emitted by this device is well below the national public exposure limits.

"It does not possess sufficient transmission power to penetrate load-bearing walls or produce measurable electromagnetic exposure to occupants of neighboring residences.

"There is no evidence supporting any causal relationship between the device's operation and miscarriage."

I gripped the report as I walked out of the laboratory. A long, slow breath escaped me.

Claire slipped her arm through mine. She read the report from beginning to end once more before looking up at me, her eyes shining.

"Now, they'll have nothing against you. It's all written right here—safe according to national standards, verified by an accredited testing institute. Even if this ends up in court, this report clears you completely."

I nodded. The weight that had been crushing my chest for days finally lifted.

Science couldn't lie, and neither could data. This time, I was prepared not to end up beaten into submission the way I had in my previous life.

That evening, Claire and I were having dinner beneath her apartment building. During the meal, my phone buzzed. Someone had tagged me in the neighborhood group chat from my old apartment complex.

I didn't open it. I simply flipped my phone face down on the table.

Claire placed a piece of meat on my plate and assured me, "Don't worry. You've got the report now. They can't make anything out of this."

Then, my phone rang again. It wasn't a group chat notification, but a phone call from an unfamiliar number.

When I answered, I heard hurried breathing, followed by a man's deliberately lowered voice, as though he were calling in secret from the middle of a noisy crowd.

"Hi, I'm with property management. You're the new tenant who just moved in, right? Yeah, I need to tell you something. The pregnant woman next door miscarried. It just happened.

"Her husband's already called the police. They're outside your apartment right now."

I ended the call and slowly set my cutlery down. Claire looked at me. "What happened?"

I didn't answer. Instead, I checked the date on my phone. It was the exact day Lynette had miscarried in my previous life. Back then, she had used those stillborn babies to pin the blame on me, destroying my reputation and my life.

In this life, she somehow still ended with the same fate.

My phone lit up again with yet another notification from the neighborhood group chat. Someone had sent a video showing David standing in a hospital corridor, crying into the camera.

Behind him, the red light above the emergency operating room glowed ominously. His eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion. His voice was so hoarse it was almost impossible to make out what he was saying.

The subtitles, however, made it clear. "My neighbor changed his Wi-Fi name and cursed my wife! The electromagnetic radiation triggered her contractions, and our three babies are gone!"

In the last few seconds, the camera shook. It swept past the glowing emergency room sign and the doctors hurrying back and forth outside.

My phone suddenly went berserk. It wouldn't stop vibrating. Then, one missed call after another flooded the screen. Some were from unknown numbers, some from former coworkers. Even a few of Claire's friends reached out.

Apparently, someone had left a screenshot of my radiation test report on my social media account. "A murderer bought himself a worthless piece of paper."

Two hours later, a police cruiser pulled up outside. Two uniformed officers knocked on my door. Their expressions were solemn.

Behind them, in the hallway, stood David. His eyes were bloodshot as he pointed straight at me, his body shaking like a leaf. "It's him. His Wi-Fi name killed all three of my unborn babies. I want to make him pay!"

I handed the officers the laboratory report. One of them took it, scanned it briefly, then looked back at it.

"This is an electromagnetic radiation test issued by a nationally accredited testing institute," I said. "The conclusion couldn't be clearer. My router's signal isn't even powerful enough to penetrate a wall. It's physically incapable of causing a miscarriage."

Before the officer could respond, David piped up again. His voice was quiet, but every word sounded as though it had been squeezed through clenched teeth.

"Then, explain something to me. Why did the signal follow you no matter where you moved? Why does your Wi-Fi name always revert to those same accursed words, no matter what you rename it? And why…"

He stepped forward, his eyes locked onto mine. "Why didn't my wife miscarry before or after? Why did it happen only after you changed the name?"

Chapter 4

I met David's eyes without flinching or retreating. "You want an explanation? Fine."

I pulled out my phone and opened my photo gallery. On the screen was a picture of my new router's power cord. The plug was lying on the hardwood floor, completely unplugged.

The photo bore a visible timestamp—6:42 pm.

"Take a good look. This afternoon, after I got back from the testing institute, I unplugged the router completely. Not just the power switch, but the actual plug. It had no power at all.

"I took this photo while I was waiting for a table at dinner earlier. The timestamp is right there—6:42 pm."

I kept the phone raised and turned to David. "You keep saying my Wi-Fi caused the miscarriage. So, answer me this. If I unplugged the router at 6:42 pm, what time did you call the ambulance?

"And while you're at it, officers, please read the expert report carefully. It states, in plain language, that my router's signal is too weak to even penetrate a single wall. The router was sitting inside my bedroom.

"It's so weak that even I would have a hard time using it from my living room! And can we please use a little common sense? Since when does changing the name of a Wi-Fi network cause a miscarriage?

"If that were possible, hospitals wouldn't need obstetrics departments anymore. Pregnant ladies could just stand next to my router instead and get it done for free!"

The crowd watching the spectacle burst into laughter.

David opened his mouth, but no words came out. Behind him, Lynette had been wheeled straight from the hospital by her family, determined to corner me in person. Her shoulders visibly stiffened.

One of the officers took my phone and carefully examined the timestamp on the photo. Then he opened the image details to verify when it had been taken.

Looking up, he turned to David. "What time did you call the ambulance?"

"Around 8:10 pm," David answered weakly.

"8:10 pm, huh?" I repeated it, then took the lab report from Claire.

"My router was physically disconnected at 6:42 pm. Your wife miscarried at around 8:10 pm. That's an hour and a half in between. My Wi-Fi wasn't operating during that entire time. No signal, no radio transmission, nothing."

I slapped the report down on top of the shoe cabinet. "So, you're saying my Wi-Fi caused your wife's miscarriage. Then, explain to me, how does a router that's been unplugged hurt anyone?"

The hallway fell dead silent for three whole seconds. The elderly women who had been defending the couple stood there with their mouths agape. Everyone watching froze where they stood.

The guy in the baseball cap, who had been livestreaming, swung his phone toward the photo of the unplugged power cord. Even the flood of comments on his livestream changed.

"Holy shit. Plot twist."

"So, there wasn't even a Wi-Fi signal?"

"Wait, then how could it have been the router?"

The officer handed my phone back and turned to David. His tone was no longer the neutral, mediating one he had been using moments earlier. "Do you have anything else you'd like to say?"

David's Adam's apple bobbed. He said nothing. Behind him, Lynette suddenly piped up. "But the name—"

I cut her off. "What about the name? I knew something was wrong the moment I realized the name couldn't be changed. Today, after putting the timeline together, I finally figured it out."

My eyes swept across everyone gathered in the hallway before settling on the lab report with its red official seal.

"The report says the Wi-Fi is harmless. I unplugged the router. It wasn't even running. So, even if the Wi-Fi name had been a hundred times more vicious than it was, it couldn't have magically traveled through a router with no power and hurt anyone."

Colors drained from Lynette's face. I stared at her and enunciated, "You're not the victim. As for what really happened to your babies, you know the answer better than anyone."

"I… I don't know what you're talking about…"

I sneered and clapped my hands. "Enough. Aren't you tired of putting on this act? A Wi-Fi network that supposedly made someone miscarry triplets… Your insistence on pinning this ridiculous accusation on me… This time, I finally understand why."