Chapter 2 The First Taste of Rebellion

"It's not every day you don't make excuses to stay home and do house chores. You have to make the most of tonight and have some fun!"

The top student who sat in front of me in class, now dressed in an ultra-short skirt, shoved a pair of dice into my hand. "Want to play a round?"

My hands trembled violently.

I stammered, "My parents won't let me drink alcohol, and I'm not allowed to gamble either…"

The system issued an order inside my head. "You're not allowed to obey your parents' rules today."

Left with no other choice, I followed my classmates' game and started shaking the dice.

After losing round after round, tears welled up in my eyes.

…

However, I didn't end up owing loan sharks a fortune and having my limbs broken, as my brother had warned me I would. Instead, my punishment was to eat several slices of watermelon. They were so sweet that I couldn't even find the words to describe them.

I steeled myself, squeezed my eyes shut, and tipped my head back to gulp down a glass of beer.

As I sang along with my classmates in a slightly dizzy haze, I found myself feeling inexplicably happy. For the first time, I couldn't help wondering if everything my parents had taught me was really right.

…

Early the next morning, I slept until 9 a.m. Realizing I'd missed the time to prepare breakfast, I leaped out of bed in a panic.

I rushed out of my room, only for my brother, Jordan Sawyer, to give me a disdainful once-over. "Grace, just look at yourself."

When I reached the bathroom, I finally saw what he meant. My hair stuck out in every direction, and my clothes were all wrinkled.

Jordan came over to brush his teeth beside me. "Look at you. You dress like a man who doesn't care about his appearance. Can't you go back to how you were a week ago? That version of my little sister was much prettier."

The system reminded me, "Say no right now. Go against him!"

Clenching my palms tightly, I summoned every ounce of courage to refuse, "I can't."

When I met Jordan's stunned gaze, I added, "Instead of criticizing me, why don't you take a look in the mirror?"

I meant every word.

After all, Jordan looked even more disheveled than I did. His stubble was unkempt, and dark circles shadowed his eyes. Compared to him, I thought I still looked pretty good.

…

After washing up, I went to the dining table, where Mom was propping her head up with one hand and sighing incessantly. "What am I going to do if my future son-in-law thinks my daughter is lazy and blames me for not raising her properly?"

She reached out and took my hand. "Grace, you need to get up earlier next time. You have to learn how to make breakfast now. If you marry someday and don't know how to do anything, your husband's family will look down on you."

Ever since I started middle school, I'd gotten up at 6 a.m. to prepare breakfast before leaving for school. I never made an exception, not even during winter or summer vacation. This was the first time I'd let myself be so indulgent, and I couldn't help feeling guilty and uneasy.

"Stop standing there like an idiot!" the system scolded me.

I hurriedly pulled my hand away from Mom's grasp. "I'm not making breakfast anymore. If someone looks down on me for it, then let them. There's nothing I can do about that."

Afraid my family would go hungry, I even offered a suggestion. "Whoever's hungry can make their own food."

Unable to meet Mom's eyes, I quickly lowered my head and started eating.

"That's your brother's breakfast!" Mom's voice turned sharp.

I looked around the table, realizing there was only one plate of breakfast.

The hash brown slipped from my mouth as I stared at her in confusion. "Where's mine?"

"You…" Mom's expression darkened. "You haven't done any work, so why should you get to eat? Girls should eat less. Gaining weight makes you look terrible. Haven't you gotten plumper lately?"

In the past, I would have immediately obeyed her and handed the plate over to Jordan. However, this time, I ate faster instead, because the system was watching me in silence.

Over the past week, under the system's pressure, I'd eaten my fill at every meal. I ate the beef Jordan loved, and I gnawed on the chicken legs Dad adored. A single plate of full breakfast was nothing to me.

Mom slammed her fist against the table. "Grace Sawyer! Have you lost your mind? You've eaten everything! What is your brother supposed to eat now? Since when have you become so selfish?"

I quickly shoveled the last few mouthfuls of noodles into my mouth, wiped my lips, and prepared to leave the table. "I'm full now, Mom."

Those had been Jordan's usual words. This time, I'd simply copied him.

As Mom's furious curses followed me, I slipped on my shoes and walked straight out the door.