I woke up as the mother of a Mary Sue novel's heroine, with a system glowing in my mind. In the crib beside me lay a gurgling baby. The system's voice was chirpy with excitement: *You're to abandon her. Leave her with her alcoholic, abusive father. She'll grow through hardship, resilient as a wildflower, and catch the eye of the heir to the Knight Group. Once they marry, you can return, reclaim your role, and live a life of luxury.*
I watched the cooing infant, silent for a long moment. "And if I don't abandon her?"
The system seemed taken aback, as if no one had ever asked this before. Then, its tone turned mocking. *Then she'll grow up utterly ordinary. Normal school, a normal job, utterly invisible to any CEO.*
I smiled. "That sounds just fine, doesn't it? If all her suffering is just to make some man notice her, then avoiding that suffering is perfectly fine, isn't it?"
I kept her. Not 'Rosalie'—no, I rejected the flowery, saccharine name from the original plot. Defying the system, I gave her my last name. I'd always hated how heroines in these stories got cutesy, repetitive names, while the male leads were bestowed profound, poetic ones from classic literature. I chose the name Laurel. The laurel, evergreen and resilient, symbolizing victory and honor. I wanted my daughter to live independently, free from relying on anyone else.
By the time Laurel was seven and in elementary school, she was a bright, cheerful child, beloved by teachers and classmates alike. Until one day, she came home crying, the neat pigtails I'd carefully braided that morning now loose and messy.
"What happened, sweetie?" I asked.
She sobbed, "Johnny keeps pulling my hair in class."
I knew Johnny. He sat behind her. I'd seen him at the parent-teacher conference—a wiry, sharp-eyed boy.
Frowning, I asked, "Did you tell Mrs. Parker?"
Laurel nodded, hesitant. "I did… but she said… she said Johnny probably does it because he likes me."
I didn't lose my composure in front of my daughter. I knelt down, meeting her eyes. "How about Mommy talks to Mrs. Parker, okay?"
In the school office, Mrs. Parker peered over her lesson plan, red glasses perched on her nose. She gave me a knowing, almost conspiratorial smile, nodding toward Laurel waiting outside.
"Laurel's a pretty little thing. Lots of the boys have crushes on her. You know how it is at this age—they don't know how to express it, so they tease and pull hair."
She seemed to be trying to draw me into some unspoken club of women who'd endured such 'affection' and should wear it as a badge of honor. But under my steady silence, her smile faltered.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," I said calmly. "I only see that my daughter is being harassed. Isn't this bullying?"
The word seemed to sting her. She set down her thermos with a thud, sitting up straight. "Mrs. Miller, that's a very strong accusation! They're just children; they don't know what bullying is! It's just… horseplay."
"Horseplay," I repeated. "If it's just horseplay, would you be comfortable having Johnny sit directly behind your daughter, Emily?"
It was no secret that Mrs. Parker's daughter was in the same class. She froze, and in that moment, I knew. She wasn't ignorant. She just found it easier not to act. Like so many unspoken rules in society, clearly wrong yet seldom challenged because disrupting them was more trouble than quietly complying. A casual "boys will be boys" was far simpler than teaching them, from childhood, to respect women.
But I would challenge it. For my daughter, and for all the little girls who'd had their hair pulled, I would say this wasn't affection. It was harassment. It was bullying.
"Mrs. Parker," I brought her back to the moment. "You have two choices. First, move Johnny to sit behind Emily. Second, separate my daughter from Johnny and take the time to teach the boys in your class that the right way to express liking someone is through respect and kindness, not teasing."
She seemed to deflate. "I'll… take the second option."
Satisfied, I took Laurel's hand to leave. As we reached the door, Mrs. Parker called out, almost petulantly, "You know, being so overprotective might affect Laurel's ability to socialize normally with her peers."
I didn't turn back. "That won't be your concern."
At home, I still voiced my worry to Laurel. "Honey, if Johnny stops playing with you altogether because of what Mommy did today, would you be sad?"
We had a rule: complete honesty, no hiding feelings.
Laurel thought for a moment, then asked timidly, "Does that mean Johnny won't pull my pigtails anymore?"
"Yes," I confirmed.
My daughter rushed over and threw her arms around me, her eyes shining. "Then you're the best mommy in the whole world!"
Encircled by those warm, soft little arms, all my doubts vanished. That, I thought, was the finest praise anyone could receive.
After Laurel fell asleep that night, the system appeared. It had been mostly silent since I'd kept Laurel, a quiet protest against my defiance. But to ensure our "mission" could still be completed, it occasionally checked in.
*Host, our ultimate goal is for the heroine's happiness to reach 100%. You need to step it up.*
Curious, I asked, "According to the original plan, when does her happiness hit 100%?"
*When she marries the heir to the Knight Group, of course!*
"And after the wedding? What's her happiness level then? Did you ever check?"
The system fell silent. So, they hadn't. It was like fairy tales that end at "happily ever after." What comes after? Does the princess get homesick? Does she remember her carefree days in the forest while learning strict palace etiquette? Does she face mother-in-law problems? Would the prince one day love another? No one cared. If happiness was so fleeting and uncertain, could it truly be called happiness? It couldn't sustain a lifetime.
"What's Laurel's happiness level right now? Can you check?" I wasn't asking as a strategist, but as a mother. *Is my daughter happy?*
The system vanished for a few seconds, presumably checking the data. When its voice returned, it was nearly a screech. *54%! How is this possible? This is the level she should only reach when she first meets Chase and he 'saves' her after all her hardships! What have you done?*
I looked down at my sleeping daughter and smiled. "I only did what a mother should do. It seems saving the princess doesn't always require a prince. The Queen can do it, too. And I believe, soon enough, the princess will save herself."
A few years later, Laurel was in high school. She excelled academically, especially in STEM, consistently ranking first in math for her grade. But one day, she came home utterly dejected.
Sensing her mood immediately, I asked, "Was your monthly exam score not what you hoped?"
Her voice cracked. "A new transfer student took first place this time. In math, too."
I understood the sting of being surpassed in your best subject. "How many students are in your grade?" I asked gently.
Laurel thought. "About 645."
I smiled. "So you see? You didn't lose to one person. You outperformed 643 others. That's pretty incredible."
My words cheered her up a bit, but she still looked troubled. "Mom, our math teacher—he's also the Vice Principal—said girls just aren't naturally good at STEM. Even if I do well now, the boys will surpass me by senior year anyway."
"Oh?" I asked, my smile unwavering. "And which teacher is this authority?"
Laurel sighed. "Mr. Higgins. The Vice Principal."
The system chimed in my head, gleeful. *Oho, this one won't be so easy to handle!*
I thought for a moment. "Honey, how would you feel about transferring to a private school?" Private schools were expensive, but the resources were superior. Crucially, they treated students more like clients. If anyone dared say girls weren't cut out for STEM there, I'd have the leverage to fight back.
But the system reacted more strongly than Laurel, screaming in my mind, *No! You can't!*
"Why the hysterics?" I asked, mentally rolling my eyes.
*That new transfer student is the second male lead! He's a prodigy, tops the class without trying. The heroine is supposed to be initially crushed, then see him as a rival and role model. Their relationship develops from there!*
"So?" I was genuinely puzzled. "Looking up to a competitor speaks to my daughter's good sportsmanship. What does that have to do with who he is?"
The system seemed stumped. *But… but…* it sputtered, unable to form a coherent argument.
I continued calmly, "Making the heroine suffer to grow isn't about loving the heroine. It's about giving the male lead a chance to shine. At its core, it's about prioritizing the male narrative. True love is paving a smooth path for her, letting her climb over everyone else if she must."
The system was quiet for a long time. Finally, it said weakly, *But… in all my assigned missions, the plot is always like this. The heroine must be misunderstood, framed by villains, endure all hardships before she can be reborn and find true happiness.*
I shook my head. "Then think back. What about the male leads in these stories? Are they always heirs to conglomerates, their greatest suffering a stomach ache? The heroine's happiness depends entirely on his love. What if he takes it back? She's left with nothing." I concluded, "These stories are labeled as romance for women, but their core is male power fantasy."
The system offered no further rebuttal. It was finally convinced.
After a pause, it sighed. *But without the second male lead, we lose another plot point to boost happiness. How does the story proceed now?*
I didn't answer, because Laurel had finished her deliberations. Her eyes were hopeful but unsure. "Really? But private school is so expensive…"
I ruffled her hair. "Of course. And don't you worry, Mommy has been doing pretty well these past few years." Unlike the original mother who idly waited for her daughter to marry rich, I had built my own business.
Laurel's eyes welled up. She threw her arms around me in a tight hug. "Thank you, Mom. I know you're doing this to give me a better environment. I promise I'll study hard. I won't let you down."
My daughter was growing up. I'd always disliked parents who practiced "hardship education," constantly reminding their children of their sacrifices. What was the point? It only bred guilt. Treat a child with sincere love, and they will feel it.
I hugged her back. "Mommy's greatest hope isn't for perfect grades. It's for you to be truly happy."
The transfer went smoothly. Freed from that toxic environment, Laurel pursued her studies with renewed determination. I even hired a private math tutor for her—a woman who'd graduated from MIT. Maybe there were fewer women at the very pinnacle of STEM fields, but that didn't mean girls were inherently unsuited. On the contrary, it was precisely because of such pervasive doubts that girls often lost their way. More than just tutoring, I wanted this tutor to be a role model. If one woman had walked this path, it proved it was passable. If others could do it, I knew my brilliant, resilient daughter could, too.
On the day Laurel finished her SATs, my company was officially incorporated. Waiting for her outside the test center, I asked the system, "Can you check Laurel's current happiness level?"
*Stand by…* A few seconds later, it shrieked, *76%!*
"Is that high?"
*It's very high! Among all the hosts who started missions around the same time as us, your score is the highest!*
Just then, Laurel bounded out, beaming. She linked her arm with mine. "Mom, it went so well! I'm confident you'll be getting calls from Ivy League admissions offices."
I took her backpack, smiling. "Well, wouldn't that be something? I'd be riding your coattails, my brilliant daughter."
In the original story, "Rosalie" had to work part-time for tuition, struggled against countless obstacles, and only made it to a decent state university. By clearing the path for her, I allowed her talent to fully blossom. She was accepted to the nation's top university. Her future was visibly brighter. Even without marrying into wealth, she had the power to build her own.
The system sighed in my mind. *Host, perhaps your choice was correct. You truly changed her life. And you've changed my perspective.*
I gave a slight, noncommittal smile.
Laurel got into MIT for mathematics. She was invited back to her old high school to give a speech. On the auditorium stage, confident and poised, she shared her study methods. Then she said, "Finally, I want to say this to all the girls here. If any teacher has ever told you that girls aren't cut out for STEM, or that the boys will catch up and pass you eventually, please don't believe them. I'm standing here today so that in the future, whenever you feel like doubting yourselves, you can remember me. You can remember that someone got into MIT for math, and she was a girl."
Thunderous applause followed. I saw several girls who had been slouching and bored suddenly sit up straight, their eyes gleaming. I saw the former Vice Principal, Mr. Higgins, turn pale. The Principal looked like he'd just had a revelation, finally understanding why all his pleas couldn't keep this student—why he'd let a future MIT admit slip away. What fury this realization sparked in him, I didn't know or care. Our boat had already sailed past countless mountains.
While Laurel was at college, I focused on my career. We were each thriving in our own domains. A busybody once said to me, "Why push yourself so hard? You have a daughter, not a son. You don't need to save for a house or a bride price."
I smiled faintly. "How unfortunate for your daughter. Mine is luckier. The harder I work now, the less she'll have to struggle later. Everything I have is hers—and that extends far beyond a few houses or a dowry."
The woman's face soured, and she said no more.
After she left, the system asked, *Host, I don't fully understand human emotions. Did she say that because she has a son?*
"No," I replied. "She has a daughter, too. An only child."
*Then why would she say that? Doesn't she love her own daughter?*
I was silent for a long time, unsure how to explain the complexities of human nature to a machine. "Maybe she does love her. But clearly, even though she gave birth to a daughter, she still holds a son as the ideal, believing you only need to strive if you have a son. It's a subtle, internalized preference for males. In their hearts, they might cherish the son they never had, sometimes transferring those feelings to a son-in-law or a nephew. So, does she love her daughter? Perhaps. But not enough. After all, where the money goes, the heart follows—that's an eternal truth."
During Laurel's third month at college, my ex-husband showed up. The system informed me that after Laurel got into MIT, our hometown paper had run a story. My drunkard ex happened to see it, looked me up, found out about my successful company, and somehow got my contact info, demanding money.
I ignored his texts and calls. When he showed up at my office, security escorted him out. He tried to ambush me on the street, but my bodyguards intercepted him before he got close. Hadn't I worked so hard precisely to keep such filth at bay?
I smiled coldly and told him if he dared show his face near me again, he wouldn't be dealing with licensed security, but rather some… local entrepreneurs with a penchant for sacks.
He was a coward and quickly backed down.
But soon after, the system warned me he'd gone to MIT to find Laurel.
My heart clenched. "Did he cause a scene?"
I feared a man like him might hold her future hostage, waving banners at the campus gate or harassing professors.
*Not exactly,* the system said. *He's too scared of your threat to make a big fuss. He went secretly, playing the pity card. Told Laurel he's destitute and begged her to get a few thousand from you.*
I relaxed. "Good."
*Aren't you afraid Laurel will be fooled?* the system asked, puzzled. *You've never told her about him. She doesn't know her father is a violent drunk. What if her heart softens?*
I tapped my desk, my expression grim. "I trust her judgment. Even if she is fooled this once, it's a lesson learned. A few thousand is tuition I can afford."
Soon, Laurel texted me, saying she needed $5,000 as seed money for a university robotics competition.
The system sighed. *Seems her heart did soften.*
I said nothing and transferred the money.
*Host, why not just expose Frank's lies? And aren't you angry Laurel lied to you for him?*
I slowly shook my head. "I once read that love often feels like a perpetual sense of falling short. That captures how I feel right now. I don't blame my daughter for the lie. I'm questioning myself. Was the love I gave her all these years not enough, that she'd soften toward a father she hasn't seen in over a decade?"
With that thought, I texted Laurel: "College activities cost more. I'm increasing your monthly allowance by $500. Let me know if you need anything else. Don't skimp on yourself."
Her reply came quickly: "Okay, thanks Mom! ❤️"
A month later, I received an unfamiliar package addressed to Laurel. That evening, she called, excited. "Mom, did you get the package? Open it! Open it now!"
"What is it?" I hesitated. "It's yours. Shouldn't you open it when you're home?"
"I addressed it to you so you could open it yourself!"
Hearing that, I gave in. But when I opened the box, I was stunned. A certificate inside read: "First Place – National Intercollegiate Robotics Competition."
Laurel's proud voice came through the phone. "So? Pretty good, huh? Our team's design is even being patented! A big company is interested—might sell for over a million! That $5k was a solid investment."
I was speechless. She really had used the money for the competition.
"Mom? Mom, are you there?"
"Sorry, honey, I was just… stunned. You're… you're amazing. I'm so proud of you."
Laurel giggled, then her tone turned hesitant. "Actually… there's something else." I held my breath. "A while ago… my dad came to see me."
I inhaled sharply.
"He asked me for money. I didn't give him any. I wasn't sure if I should tell you. I was afraid… afraid you might feel sorry for him and relent. But then I thought, you have a right to know. He was your husband, after all. You never said why you split, but I'm guessing he did something awful. Whatever you decide—to help him or cut him off completely—I'll support you."
She fell silent, waiting cautiously for my response. Her tone was like that of a friend worried her lovesick best friend might get hurt again, yet determined to respect her choices.
I won't admit it easily, but in that moment, my eyes welled up. I'd always believed a parent's role was to give, unconditionally and relentlessly. But seeing the seed I'd planted bear such magnificent fruit, I couldn't help but feel every hardship was worth it. Here I was, the mother, being cared for, understood, and supported by my child. My little Laurel had truly grown into a strong, towering tree.
I sniffled quietly, hoping she wouldn't notice. "I understand. I won't give him a cent, and I certainly won't get back with him. Don't worry."
On the other end, I could almost hear her sigh of relief. "I knew it. You're the smartest, most sensible mom."
After hanging up, the silent system spoke. *Host, Laurel's happiness level just increased by 5%. It's 81% now.*
The tears I'd held back started again. My daughter was happy because I had escaped my own misery. My happiness had become a source of hers.
During Laurel's sophomore year, the system alerted me. *Host, Laurel has met Chase.*
I was surprised. I'd changed her life's trajectory so much. Why did they still meet?
*In the original plot, they met when the heroine was working part-time at a café. Now, they're classmates. They met at the freshman welcome party.*
I couldn't help but muse. Fate was like an unpredicted downpour. Those without an umbrella couldn't avoid it; those who wanted to get drenched might never encounter it.
Three months later, during our regular video call, Laurel's voice turned shy. "Mom… I think… I might be seeing someone."
A name instantly popped into my head, but I played innocent. "Oh? Who is it? Someone from your classes?"
She nodded, blushing. "Yeah. From the business school. We met at the welcome party. He's been asking me out for a while. He seems really nice. Considerate."
"What's his name? Chase?"
I kept my expression neutral.
"That's wonderful! College romance can be a beautiful thing. You're in college now; I won't interfere in your love life. The only thing is, please remember to protect yourself."
Laurel smiled sweetly. "I know, Mom."
After the call, the system questioned me, puzzled. *Host, why not break them up before they get serious?*
"Why would I break them up?"
*You've worked so hard, changed Laurel's entire life. If she ends up marrying Chase, fulfilling the original ending, doesn't that make all your efforts pointless?*
I shook my head with a smile. "You're mistaken. I poured my heart into raising Laurel to give her more choices, not fewer. If I interfered with her decisions just to achieve my own goals, how would I be any different from those parents who tear up their child's college acceptance letter to keep them close? Laurel's life is hers to decide. My only job is to support her choices. I told you from the beginning, I just want my daughter to be happy. That's all."
Soon, Laurel and Chase were officially dating. She brought him to meet me. Chase, true to his role as the male lead, was handsome, tall, and impeccably polite. By then, the Chase family was a well-known conglomerate, and Chase himself was a campus celebrity. Their relationship drew a lot of attention.
I said nothing definitive, simply increased Laurel's allowance once more. I reminded her, "No matter how wealthy his family is, in a relationship, you are equals. Never look down on yourself, but don't feel entitled to his provisions either." I rarely gave romantic advice, so Laurel listened with bright, curious eyes, nodding earnestly.
Seeing her expression, I felt once again relieved I hadn't tried to separate them. Whatever the future held, at this moment, I could see they genuinely cared for each other. And that was enough. Love was often a fragile, perishable thing. A moment of true sincerity was a rarity to be cherished.
Perhaps it was the destined pull of the main characters, or perhaps their young love had an unusually long expiration date. Their relationship lasted for years, continuing even after graduation. Chase, as expected, returned to inherit the family business. Laurel, buzzing with excitement, told me about the numerous job offers she was fielding.
"Mom," she said, "Chase offered to get me a position in his family's company. I turned him down. It feels too… passive. I'd rather make my own way."
I nodded, a proud smile on my face. "You made the right choice. There are no real shortcuts in this world. Every supposed shortcut leads to a dead end, especially in relationships between men and women."
Laurel eventually chose a high-pressure, high-salary job at a private firm. She was always driven and passionate.
Around the same time, my company launched a charitable initiative: partnering with rural communities to promote local agricultural products and support women's and children's health. Laurel was deeply interested and took time off to join me.
We flew, took a train, a bus, and finally a rickety tricycle to reach our destination. The scene that greeted us was staggering. A dusty, unpaved road straight out of a history book lay before us, a stark divide separating this place from decades of development.
Our local guide explained, "The kids here walk that mountain path every day. No tricycle for them, just their own two feet."
Laurel was stunned. "Walk? To where?"
"To school, of course."
I was speechless. "How long does that take?"
The guide held up four fingers. "Four hours. They're up by 3 AM. Every single day."
A heavy silence fell over our team.
Sensing the mood, the guide quickly changed tack, rubbing his hands together. "But hey, you folks are here now! If we can sell more produce, maybe we can raise enough to build these kids a proper school!"
His words snapped me into action. "Right! Let's focus on selling. Team, set up the equipment! Let's get the lighting adjusted!"
We stayed in Willow Creek for three days. The villagers gave us their best, cleanest house to stay in. On our last night, Laurel and I squeezed onto a small bed, both unable to sleep.
In the darkness, I heard her say, "Mom, I went to see the school today. I walked part of the route. Four hours is… so long. The school is so dilapidated. The desks and chairs look like they're from another century."
I sighed. "When we get back, let's leave them the equipment. Teach them how to livestream, how to sell online. Maybe that will help a little."
Laurel nodded in the dark but stayed unusually quiet.
After a while, she murmured, "Mom… how many kids from a place like this do you think ever make it to an Ivy League school? Do you think any of them dream of studying math?"
I froze. I knew my daughter too well. I instantly guessed what she was thinking.
Sure enough, the next moment, she sat up and turned to me, her expression solemn in the moonlight. "Mom, I want to stay."
"No." The refusal was immediate, instinctive. It was the first time I'd ever opposed one of Laurel's decisions so vehemently. Perhaps her choice was noble, right even. But in that moment, I didn't care. I couldn't bear the thought of her suffering here.
Laurel's gaze was more determined than I'd ever seen it. "Mom, my mind is made up. I've grown up my whole life under your protection. You've been the best teacher I could ever have. Now it's my turn. It's my turn to protect, to nurture others."
The rural night had no city glow, only moonlight streaming through the window, illuminating her resolute, shining eyes.
The system notified me, *Host, Laurel's happiness level has reached 100%. Mission accomplished.*
This should have been the moment of greatest triumph. Instead, a silence louder than any cheer filled the room.
I didn't speak. I just turned over quietly, my back to her, and cried silently through the night.
Laurel used her entire savings to fund the first charter school. She quit her high-paying job and refused to let me fund her project directly. Her smile was gentle but firm. "Please believe I can handle this on my own."
I could find no more words to argue.
Chase was initially supportive, but his family, particularly his grandfather, the family patriarch, was not. The old man held traditional views, believing a woman's place after marriage was in the home.
The system added, *In the original plot, 'Rosalie' quit her job immediately after marrying and cut ties with almost all her old friends. From then on, she lived only for Chase, only for the family.*
Chase pleaded for a long time before his grandfather reluctantly agreed to tolerate Laurel's philanthropic work, on one condition: she must be married by thirty.
Laurel refused. Facing Chase, her tears fell freely, but her voice was steady. "The first school is just built. We've only just hired the first batch of teachers. There's so much more to do. Settling down before thirty is impossible."
Chase's eyes were red-rimmed, his voice pleading. "We could just get the license, to appease my grandfather. That's all."
Laurel looked down, silent for a long time. Finally, she shook her head. "I'm going to devote all my time and energy to this. I won't be able to focus on building a family. It wouldn't be fair to you. I can't hold you back."
Chase finally broke down. I'd never seen a man cry so desperately. Even the system sighed. *Who would have thought the thing that kept the main characters apart would be… charity.*
I shook my head, saying nothing. To an observer, any comment would be superfluous.
Laurel spent five years entrenched in that community before the first school was running smoothly. Through corporate sponsorships, online fundraising, and selling local products, she raised the funds to build school after school.
News channels came to report on her, telling the story of the MIT graduate who chose to become a principal in rural America. The day she was named one of the "Ten Most Inspiring People of the Year," her face was on front pages everywhere. Only the business section carried a small announcement: the wedding of Chase, heir to the Knight Group, to the daughter of another conglomerate.
When Laurel saw it, she showed little emotion, just a faint smile. "It's for the best. We both got what we truly wanted." Then she picked up her math textbook and walked into her classroom.
For the next forty years, she dedicated herself entirely to her cause. She never married.
On the day I was dying, Laurel was by my bedside. My vision was blurring. I held her hand, tears streaming down my face. My daughter had strands of silver in her hair now. The hand that had once been so small in mine was now rougher than my own.
Laurel wiped her eyes, her voice a soft sob. "I haven't been by your side all these years, Mom. I'm a terrible daughter."
I shook my head, struggling to speak through the oxygen mask. "Nonsense… You have always… always been my greatest pride."
Laurel's eyes shone. She leaned down and gently embraced me, just as she had when she was seven years old.
"And you," she whispered, "are the best mom in the whole world."
As I closed my eyes for the last time, I felt a final tear escape. I thought, *That is the finest praise anyone could ever receive.*