If You Can Do Better, Prove It

The life trial system "If You Think You Can Do Better, Prove It" had been live for a week, but no one dared to sign up.

The rules were simple, yet terrifying: if you could prove you could live someone else's life better than they did, you would win one million dollars. But the cost? The consciousness of the original person would be obliterated—essentially, a death sentence.

On the other hand, if you failed to outperform them under identical circumstances, you would die instead.

Nobody wanted to gamble their life or risk becoming the murderer of another.

Yet here I was—the first one in the system.

A robot escorted me to the front row, where cameras swiveled to capture every angle of my face.

My mother, husband, and son sat further back, carefully avoiding my gaze. I stared at their guilty expressions and asked with a bitter smile, "So, all of you think you'd do better in my position?"

My mother averted her eyes. "Of course! I gave you the best education money could buy. I wanted you to succeed, to earn a fortune and get into a top university, but you failed miserably."

My husband and son exchanged glances before piling on.

"Every other wife can keep a household running smoothly, support her husband, and be the perfect homemaker. Why can't you?" my husband sneered.

"Yeah!" my son chimed in, his voice full of disdain. "You're a terrible mom! When we go out, people think you're my grandma. Do you know how embarrassing that is?"

I laughed, a sound bitter and hollow. Wife, mother, daughter—the three roles that defined my existence. And here they were, my family, lined up to cast judgment.

The crowd watching from below murmured.

"If even her closest family thinks she's worthless, she must be a failure."

"Why didn't I think to nominate my wife? She's just as lazy—always complaining about being tired. I could do her job better in my sleep."

"Wait, so 3 participants are lining up to challenge the lady. If the first one succeeds, does only the first participant get the reward? Or do all three of them share the prize?"

At that, my mother, husband, and son began squabbling, each eager to go first. I could only marvel at their confidence.

Finally, the system's neutral voice intervened. [If all three evaluations succeed, the reward will be tripled for each participant.]

The arguing ceased instantly, replaced by excited whispers and pats of encouragement. United by greed, they cheered each other on like comrades before a battle.

The system turned to me. [Ms. Adeline Carrey, as the defendant, do you have any rebuttal?]

The crowd below the stage erupted in irritation.

"Just get on with it! Stop wasting time."

"Rebuttal? What could she possibly say to defend herself?"

"Hey, sign me up next. At least I wouldn't have my mom, husband, and son hate me this much."

I memorized the face of the man who said that, smiling faintly. "I have nothing to say. Let's begin."

My mother was the first to take the stage.

Face flushed with excitement, she greeted the audience. "Hello, everyone. I'm a single mother. I worked three jobs every day to ensure my daughter could focus on her studies. All I ever wanted was for her to succeed."

She gestured at me with disdain. "But my daughter complained that studying was hard. What's so hard about writing with a pen? It's the easiest job in the world! If she can't even manage that, what can she do?"

Her voice rose in indignation. "And did she repay me for all my sacrifices? No. She cut ties with me the moment she grew up. I raised a thankless, lazy daughter. If I'd had her opportunities, I'd have graduated from a top university and earned at least 15 thousand dollars a month!"

Her words drew a wave of agreement from the audience.

"She's right! Her daughter deserves to be judged!"

"Yeah, let's get it over with. Let her die already!"

The system's voice interrupted the clamor. [Ms. Vivian Wood, in which aspects of her life do you believe you could outperform your daughter?]

"Every aspect," my mother declared confidently. "But if I had to choose, I'd say academics and filial piety."

The system replied: [Understood. Sealing select memories and extracting consciousness. Substitution simulation commencing.]

The crowd gasped as my mother froze mid-breath, her body turning stiff and lifeless. All eyes turned to the giant screen, now displaying a simulation.

The audience grew increasingly curious, all wondering what kind of life my mom would have had if she were me.

In the simulation, a baby girl was born—a replica of me in appearance and physique. The system identified her as "Subject One." She would relive my exact life circumstances, but her goals and decisions would be driven by my mother's consciousness, stripped down to focus on academics and filial duty.

The simulation began.

The scene unfolded in gritty detail: an impoverished household, an unmarried mother raising a child alone. My mother—now in the simulation—resorted to begging for food, dragging little Subject One through the streets.

The audience reacted with a mix of pity and scorn.

"What a devoted mother! If the child knew how tough life was, she should've worked harder!"

"Poverty builds character. Let's see if the kid can rise above it."

Years flew by. By the time Subject One turned six, she'd received no early education. My mother, still begging, hadn't even considered enrolling her in school.

The crowd grew restless.

"She should've started preschool by now."

"Well, not everyone can afford early education. Some people don't even start studying until they're adults, and they still succeed."

At eight, a kind stranger pointed out that Subject One was legally entitled to free education. This was her first encounter with a school. She gazed longingly at the students playing inside, only for my mother to slap her down with a harsh rebuke.

"School costs money. Do you have money? No? Then don't even think about it!"

The audience erupted in outrage.

"Wasn't she the one who said her daughter wasted educational opportunities? What a hypocrite!"

"She's rigging the system to steal money meant for her daughter's education!"

A man in the audience sneered at me. "You'd sacrifice your mom's life for money? No wonder your husband and son want to get rid of you too."