I've always wondered what it would be like to be the most popular kid in school.
Get all the women...
Get the attention...
Get on the school sports team...
It's been a dream, honestly.
But how could I ever gain it all—popularity, strength, charisma? Was there truly a way for someone like me to possess those things?
No.
For all my life, I've only known one side of high school—and life itself. The ugly side. The side no one wants to talk about.
Being born with bad eyesight and a frail, underdeveloped body frame was my curse from birth. Others lose value because of their choices or behavior; I was simply born without any value to begin with.
No one liked me. I was bullied, beaten, and mocked ever since kindergarten. Every insult, every kick, every push to the floor was a reminder that I didn't belong anywhere. And the only thing that kept me going was the foolish hope that puberty would change everything.
I thought maybe I'd grow taller. Maybe I'd finally get a deeper voice, or muscles that could actually defend me.
But no. I gained none of that.
I simply remained the same—skinny old Williams.
And as I turned sixteen, I realized something terrible yet freeing. My life wasn't going to change. No one would save me. No miracle was coming.
So instead of living a life filled with endless humiliation and pain, I had one final thought:
If I couldn't be reborn as someone else… why not just end it all?
That was the single thought that consumed my mind as I stood on the rooftop of the school—five stories high. My shoes were planted at the very edge, the wind tugging at my clothes, as if daring me to step forward.
I wanted to end it all. But still, I was scared. No one ever mentions how much work it actually takes to commit suicide. How much courage—or madness—it demands.
The wind roared past me, strong enough to make my thin body sway left and right. It was almost funny. Even the wind seemed to mock my weakness, playing with me like a feather it could crush at any moment.
Jump, and it would all be over in seconds.
That's what I told myself, trying to find motivation to do it. My heart pounded so violently it almost drowned out my thoughts. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes halfway, and tilted my body forward.
This wasn't death to me. It was freedom.
Salvation.
I was leaving behind my frail body, my useless eyes, my pitiful life. I wanted to see what lay beyond all this suffering. What was waiting for me past the veil of pain?
Beyond... beyond...
What was beyond, though?
"Ahhh!"
A gasp escaped my lips before I even understood what was happening. My body trembled, every muscle tightening like I'd been hit by electricity.
And then, I woke up.
My eyes flew open to the dull gray light of morning. Sweat drenched me from head to toe, soaking through my shirt. My chest rose and fell rapidly beneath the heavy duvet that cocooned me like I was being buried alive.
For a moment, I just lay there—confused, trembling, alive.
It had all been a dream.
I hadn't jumped. I hadn't died. I was still here… trapped in the same miserable life I'd wanted to escape.
"Who knows when next I'm gonna get confidence like that," I muttered bitterly, releasing a shaky sigh. The frustration in my voice disgusted me. I couldn't even die right. What kind of pathetic existence was that?
I clenched my fists and slammed them down on the bed as hard as I could. The mattress barely moved, the sheets only rippled slightly. Even my anger couldn't make a dent in the world. Another cruel reminder of the weak body I was stuck in.
I couldn't help but let out a broken smile, the kind that hurts more than crying. My pale face turned toward the window, where the morning light leaked through the curtains.
It was that time again—time to get up and go to school, apparently.
So I did just that.
I threw the blanket off and dragged myself to the bathroom, my feet dragging on the creaky wooden floor. I stared into the mirror for a moment before stepping into the shower. The reflection staring back at me was everything I hated—hollow eyes behind cracked glasses, bony arms, lifeless hair, skin too pale to look human.
With a body like mine, one didn't need more than three minutes to finish bathing.
Afterward, I put on my uniform—neatly ironed, at least—and slung my worn-out backpack over my shoulder. Then I left my room and stepped into the hallway of our old wooden house.
It was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that made you realize just how empty a home could feel.
The lights didn't work, either. Mom probably forgot to pay the electricity bill again. I couldn't blame her. She'd been working two jobs ever since Dad died, running herself into exhaustion just to keep us alive.
Another reason to hate myself. I couldn't help but think it every time I saw her tired smile.
I moved to the small kitchen and ate what was left of yesterday's dinner. Cold rice and a half-finished egg. I wasn't hungry, but I needed something in my stomach.
Once I was done, I stepped outside, the large bag pressing heavily against my back. The straps bit into my shoulders as I walked. What could possibly weigh so much?
Books. Old, dusty, useless books.
"How in hell do just a few books weigh me down!" I screamed silently in my head as I trudged along the familiar route to school.
When I finally crossed the school gate, something felt off. The entire place was empty. Not a single student in sight.
Since my house is relatively close, and I take all the hidden routes to avoid other students, it took me a second to realize what was wrong.
"Don't tell me this is a Saturday!" I muttered under my breath, my stomach twisting. "I swear if I made that mistake twice, I'm gonna kill myself!"
I still remembered the last time it happened—the principal catching me and forcing me to help her organize files for hours while lecturing me about being a "model student."
'Damn wrench.'
"And look what we have here?"
The voice was sharp, feminine, and far too familiar. I froze. Slowly, I lifted my head, squinting until my glasses brought her into focus.
It was her.
Mrs. Hart.
The teacher every student drooled over. Long black hair, curves that her office suit could barely contain, lips that looked permanently painted red.
Everyone in the school had a crush on her. Everyone except me.
Not because she wasn't beautiful—but because she was my personal tormentor.
"Hello, Mrs. Hart," I said with a forced smile, trying my best to sound cheerful. Her mischievous grin told me I'd failed.
She walked closer, her heels clicking sharply against the tiled floor. She leaned forward slightly, her perfume thick in the air as she whispered, "You already missed two periods, William. Your punishment today... I can't wait—"
{Ding}
{Establishment has been made.}
My eyes widened instantly.
For a moment, I forgot Mrs. Hart even existed.
Right before my face, a faint blue projection shimmered into view—a floating holographic screen. Its letters glowed like neon fire.
I blinked once. Twice.
Still there.
{Welcome, User.}
{You have obtained the Mind Shackle System.}
My breath caught in my throat. My heart pounded against my ribs.
What... what was this?
And more importantly—why did I feel like my miserable life had just begun to change?