If You Can Do Better, Prove It Chapter 07
Unfortunately, Damion couldn’t barge in to teach Subject Two a lesson.
In the first two months, Subject Pwo, armed with Damion’s hard-earned savings, elevated her taste in fashion and polished her demeanor, striving to become the type of mother who would make all the kids in the class envy Sean during parent-teacher conferences.
Meanwhile, Sean put his head down and focused on studying diligently,
For a brief time, they seemed to have achieved a harmony of “a kind mother and a devoted son.”
But as the weeks wore on, both began to falter.
Being a top-performing, multi-talented student and maintaining the façade of an elegant, picture-perfect mother demanded continuous effort, money, and energy. And that was exhausting.
Eventually, the two conspirators decided on a shortcut: becoming internet celebrities.
At first, Subject Two was on edge, worried the system would flag their plan as inappropriate. When no warnings came, she sighed in relief. “My mother’s thinking was too rigid. Being an influencer is the modern way to easily earn money, care for the family, and build a positive social image,” she declared smugly.
In the audience, those with real-world experience rolled their eyes in unison.
As for me, I didn’t regret giving Sean this chance. Unless he truly hit rock bottom, how else could he realize just how great a mother I had been?
The duo’s foray into online fame began clumsily. Without any knowledge of professional content creation, they leaned on Sean’s perspective as a ten-year-old, producing videos aimed at kids his age.
Initially, their efforts went unnoticed. To boost engagement, Sean even resorted to using his smartwatch to make friends, urging them to follow their fledgling account. Slowly but surely, their follower count began to grow.
For a moment, it seemed they might just succeed in achieving their dream of effortlessly making tens of thousands while basking in fame.
But then, disaster struck.
Their account was abruptly banned.
Both Subject Two and Sean were dumbfounded.
(System verdict: Simulation failed. No further chances will be given.]
Subject Two screeched in outrage. “Impossible! This has to be some kind of sabotage!”
The live audience buzzed with curiosity. “Why did the trial end so suddenly?”
The system provided a cold, clinical explanation.
The online videos they had produced embodied their fantasy of the “perfect mom” for a ten-year-old child. This mom was indulgent, carefree, and entirely on her son’s level-she would watch cartoons late into the night, make up excuses to teachers for missed classes, and engage in so-called “happy education.”
Unsurprisingly, this portrayal resonated with other children, drawing in young viewers.
But parents? Not so much. Furious, they reported the account for promoting unhealthy behaviors and undermining proper values.
The account was swiftly banned, and with it, Subject Two’s ill-conceived dream crumbled.
The system elaborated on its final judgment: [A good fnother guides her child toward the formation of sound principles. Subject Two failed to meet this standard. Additionally, Subject Two allowed excessive consumption of unhealthy food.]
Indeed, many of their videos featured binge-eating snacks and guzzling sugary drinks. The shoots often required multiple takes, meaning they consumed far more off-camera than on.
Back at the judgment bench, Sean’s consciousness returned to his original body. His eyes brimmed with tears as he sobbed uncontrollably. “Mom, I was wrong. I understand now how hard it is to take care of me. Please… just give me one more chance!”
I didn’t move.
Damion dashed in front of Sean, desperation etched into every line of his face. “Honey, we’ve got 2 million dollars now. Let’s live a good life together. I promise I’ll treat you right from now on. Please, don’t make me go through this, okay?”
The audience erupted in jeers and mocking whistles, but Damion’s shamelessness was boundless. He pressed on, his voice rising to be heard over the crowd. “I swear, from now on, I’ll do all the housework. I’ll never do anything to hurt you again. I promise on my life!”
I shook my head and turned to the system. “No need to play the footage of how I treated Sean. Damion’s performatice will reveal it all soon enough.”
Damion burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, but it was futile. His body stiffened. Then, the projection began: his consciousness living my life as Subject Three.
I couldn’t suppress a grin.
Reform himself? Please. I didn’t buy it for a second. After all, I’d already secured 2 million, and another 1 million was just around the corner. A guaranteed fortune and a figuratively dead husband? That beat Damion’s worthless repentance any day.
The audience watched, wide-eyed, as the reel of my 12 years of married life unfolded.
Damion and I had married for love, or so I thought. After working for two years and saving a substantial sum, I handed every cent to my mother to repay her for raising me. In doing so, I severed all financial ties with my past and her.
Shortly after, I met Damion. We were equals on paper-same financial standing, same dreams. We fell in love and got married.
Looking back now, I realize I’d been far too eager to leave the past behind, too starved for affection. I shouldn’t have rushed into marriage.
Because after the wedding, Damion revealed his true self.
Gone was the gentle, considerate man he had pretended to be before marriage\Like so many others, he cast off his pretense and shoved all the household chores onto me. All the conflicts with my mother-in-law? My problem now.
When we were in no position to handle a financial crisis, he pressured me to have children.
And now? Damion’s consciousness had entered my body and taken over as version Subject Three of me, Subject Three.
At first, Subject Three boasted loudly, as men like him often do. If he were me, he claimed, he’d be the perfect wife. He’d always stay attractive enough to keep his husband enthralled, always be a warm harbor for him to return to. Hot meals, a spotless home, perfect relationships with the in-laws-he’d manage it all effortlessly.
He’d bear children, raise them, and still earn enough money to cover all household expenses while saving thousands each year.
Such grand promises. And now? They were knives at his own throat.
I watched coldly as Subject Three dragged herself home after working overtime, only to find the house in chaos. She bent over backward, smiling as she helped her mother-in-law with the house chores.
I watched Subject Three juggle countless tasks-cooking an elaborate feast for Damion’s friends-only to be told she wasn’t welcome to sit at the table. Instead, she was left to stand aside, watching them eat and drink, laughing boisterously as they
trashed the place.
When they left, carefree as always, it was Subject Three who stayed behind to clean up the mess.
In the audience, several men who had been thinking of putting their wife through this trial began to shift uncomfortably in their seats. Their expressions betrayed their inner calculations: could they really handle doing what their wives did? And outperform them?
Then came the baby talk.
Subject Three was told to prepare for pregnancy. But when she asked how the family would manage during the pregnancy or what would happen once the baby increased their expenses, Damion’s dismissive scorn echoed back at her. “I give you living expenses every month, don’t I? And you’re still complaining? Are you spending it on some other man?”
Subject Three tried to explain, but Damion didn’t listen. Not once.
back!
Every grievance, every injustice Damion had piled on me over the years came back to hit him like a boomerang, piercing him from every angle.
