This Is Not Me

Even the darkest souls were once born from the purest light.

________________________

Darkness swallowed everything—until a flicker of light broke through.

I was seated in a grand living room, legs crossed, a thick book resting on my lap. Warm sunlight streamed through tall windows, casting golden hues across the polished floor.

I wanted to look around and take in my surroundings, but I couldn't. Only then did I realize—I had no control over this body.

Suddenly, two soft hands covered my eyes from behind.

"Guess who!" a cheerful voice giggled.

I smiled without hesitation. "It's you, Mia."

The hands dropped as a teenage girl laughed and leaned into view. She was about sixteen, full of life, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

It was his daughter… my youngest daughter.

"You always guess right," she pouted playfully.

Turning around, I saw her standing beside two others—an elegant woman in her forties, dressed in a cherry blossom gown, and next to her, a younger lady, poised and confident, likely in her mid-twenties. They were all smiling.

The older woman was my wife. The younger one, my eldest daughter.

I had a family…

Laughter filled the room. This man's heart felt full—but I felt empty.

This isn't me. The joy he was experiencing… it was something a dark soul like mine could never have. If I had something this beautiful, I wouldn't be as vicious and cruel as I am now.

"This is a lie," I muttered—and the scene shifted like pages in a dream.

Suddenly, I was behind a massive desk in a glass-walled office overlooking the city. The air smelled of fresh coffee and leather-bound books. I signed the last of a thick stack of documents and closed the file with a sigh.

Then the door creaked open.

In stepped my wife and daughters, carrying a cake with glowing candles in the shape of a "45."

"Happy birthday to you…" they began to sing.

Behind them, a wave of staff followed, clapping and smiling. The room filled with warmth and applause.

I blinked slowly. For a brief moment, everything felt right.

Then the light began to fade.

---

Beep! Beep!

Beep! Beep!

My eyes snapped open. Everything was blurry at first, then slowly came into focus. My body felt heavy, my joints sore.

Beep! Beep!

Beep! Beep!

The beeping continued, but I was too tired to move. What kind of nap leaves a person this drained?

Then it hit me. The dream.

As the memories returned, my confusion turned into a scowl.

"That system owes me…" I muttered.

"How dare you…" I said, struggling to sit up. "How dare you lie to me and show me another man's life?"

I wasn't sure why, but tears streamed down my cheeks. I couldn't stop them. Was I really that hurt just from seeing a man experience a happiness I never could?

[Believe it or not, that was you…]

The system's reply was simple—but far from comforting. I rolled onto my stomach and used my arms to push myself off the ground.

"You said I was a sinner who needed punishment," I snapped. "How does that man look like a sinner?"

[No man is born evil. Even the purest of hearts can turn dark in the right situation.]

I froze. The tears stopped. My chest tightened.

If that wasn't me… would I really have cried for him?

Slowly, I sat cross-legged and shut my eyes. The beeping was still there—but it started to fade into the background.

Once again, I was surrounded by darkness. But this time, there was a quiet sadness in me I couldn't explain.

"What happened to the old me?" I whispered, eyes fluttering open—full of concern and something else. "What crime did I commit… to become a prisoner in another world?"

But there was no response.

Knock! Knock!

The knock on my door was irregular and without rhythm—like a child banging against it. My eyebrows furrowed. I sprang to my feet and begrudgingly yanked the door open. And just as expected, it was the little devil standing outside.

Pamela stood there, dressed in a kiddie-sized jumpsuit with a cute pair of pink gloves. Her furrowed brows and black shades were clearly meant to look intimidating, but at best, she looked adorable.

No sane person would be scared of a 5'5" midget with pigtails.

"What do you want?" I asked in a dull voice.

Pamela remained in character. She slowly took off her shades and raised her head to meet my eyes.

"I did agree to train you for a month," she replied. "It starts today."

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then opened them before answering.

"I collapsed last night and only just woke up. I haven't eaten since yesterday morning, and I still need to shower." I said calmly.

Pamela frowned. Her eyebrows knitted together as suspicion crept into her expression. Without a word, she hopped—then phased straight into the floor and vanished.

Thud!

I staggered back, shocked.

Sticking my head out the door, I looked left and right down the corridor, but no one was there.

"You were telling the truth. All your stuff's still untouched. Even the bed's unused," Pamela's voice rang behind me.

I turned. She was now sitting on my bed, swinging her legs like a child. That playful smile had returned to her face, and she stared at me intently.

How did she get past me?

Does it have something to do with her [talent]?

Questions filled my head, but I didn't voice any of them. I calmly shut the door and took a moment to finally look around the room.

The room was massive. Even with a king-sized bed at the center, there was enough space for another one. To the left was a glass wall with a stunning view.

"You didn't even close the curtains..." Pamela said, tracing my gaze, before glancing at the luggage neatly stacked beside the bed.

The academy always delivered student luggage like this, leaving it for us to unpack. Her playful expression softened, turning into genuine worry.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked in a concerned tone. "We should go to the academy hospital and get you checked out."

I had no intention of replying.

"Is this allowed? A female lecturer in a male student's dorm?" I asked neutrally.

Pamela's eyes widened—genuine surprise—but that quickly shifted into a mischievous grin.

"Don't worry. It's allowed if both sides consent," she giggled, her tone turning playful. "I didn't know you were—"

"I'm not interested." I cut her off, voice still neutral. "And I don't believe you," I added, walking over to the gray reading couch near the glass wall. A small glass table sat beside it, topped with a tiny flower vase.

"It's true," Pamela continued. "Eventually, you'll see we don't have much to teach you. Think of this place as a small community for gifted people. You're treated like royalty… then tossed into battle over and over until you're strong enough to become a true [Limitless]."

I didn't look at her, but I listened carefully. Sitting down, I clasped my hands and leaned forward, locking eyes with her.

"Since you're here, I'll ask the question on my mind." My tone turned serious. "What does it really mean to be a Limitless?"