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The System's Cruel Canvas

Chapter 2 

Word Count: 925    |    Released on: 30/06/2025

ng between us, a cruel, impossible demand. He wanted me to take the one thin

il inside me. "It's 'Hope.' Sarah has been working on a piece for months. I expec

I had from the System's constant torment. He wanted me

Chloe. Fulfilling this task will grant you a significant number of points tow

ign of the boy I grew up with, the boy who used to sit with me for hours in my studio, t

my mouth. "I'll do it." For his happiness. For the new

ual indifference. "Good. Don't disappoint me." He turned and left without another word, t

t he would watch me paint, his eyes full of a quiet longing. "Promise me you'll never stop, Chloe," he had whispered, his voice raspy. "Your art... it has

tudio, a place I hadn't been able to find peace in for a year. Every time I picked up a brus

my ears. I saw Sarah across the room, standing beside her easel. She was glowing, dressed in a beautiful white gown, a crowd of admirers su

there, standing next to Sarah, his arm possessively around her waist

d my painting. It was a canvas of pure, chaotic darkness. Slashed with angry, disjointed lines

ould feel their judgment, their pity, their disgust. I avoide

f vibrant, sun-drenched flowers, bursting with color and life. It was

mility. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft and melodic. "Art should inspire. It should lift us

er, Alex walked over to me. I braced my

arsh whisper that was only for me. "I never thought I could be more disgusted by you, Chloe. But you pro

turned and fled, pushing through the crowd, my vision blurring with tears. I stumbled out into the cold night air, gasping for breath, the sound of their applause for Sarah ringing in my ears. I reached for my phone,

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The System’s Cruel Canvas
The System's Cruel Canvas
“The antiseptic smell wasn't new; my head always throbbed. I, Chloe Reed, once a promising artist, was now the "evil stepsister," a role forced upon me by a parasitic System. A year ago, my adoptive brother Alex, the boy I secretly loved, lay dying. The System offered a cure: become the villain, push Alex into Sarah Jenkins' s arms, and then get a new life. I said yes. How could I not? It was for Alex. The System' s predictions were chillingly accurate. Alex healed, and Sarah, a ray of manufactured sunshine, entered our lives. My existence became a calculated hell, designed to make Alex despise me. Every humiliation, every cruel word from him, was orchestrated. He looked at me with cold loathing, seeing only the monster I was forced to be. Then came the art gala. Painting, my soul' s refuge, was to be sacrificed. Alex, the boy who once said my art was magic, demanded I create something to make Sarah' s work shine by comparison. He wanted me to lose, publicly, to prove I could do something for someone else. The System buzzed with approval, promising freedom. I agreed, the word tasting like ash. The night of the gala, I unveiled "Hopeless," a canvas of chaos. Sarah presented "Hope," a field of vibrant flowers. Her victory was thunderous. Then Alex' s icy words: "You took something beautiful and made it ugly, just for attention. You are truly pathetic." His words shattered me, more than any blow. I fled into the cold night, gasping, calling the only person I could think of for a panic attack. I was utterly alone. The next morning, Alex burst into my hospital room, not worried, but furious. The System took over, lashing out with cold, mocking defiance. "Why do you care? I did what you wanted. Sarah won. Isn' t that all that matters?" His rage became chilling. He showed me a wooden bird, a gift I' d carved for him, claiming Sarah had made it. Then the real blow: Sarah needed a kidney-my kidney. "It' s you," he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. "The surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. You will do this. You will give Sarah your kidney, and maybe, just maybe, you will have redeemed yourself for a fraction of the pain you' ve caused." I signed the forms in a numb haze. The surgery was a violation, draining me literally and figuratively. Days later, Sarah came to my apartment, radiant, vibrant, full of life. My life. She gloated, then faked an injury, shrieking I' d pushed her. Alex appeared, a mask of primal fury. He didn' t ask. He slapped me, sending me crashing against the wall. "You monster," he snarled. "I am done with you. Stay away from us. Stay away from my family." I was empty, nothing left to take. My phone buzzed. A text from Alex. "My office. Now." It was another task, another demand. But as I sat in his office, I saw it-my mother' s journal, thought lost forever. Sarah walked in, and with a cruel smirk, she took it. Alex, with a mere hesitation, gave it to her. She "accidentally" dropped it into a coffee, ruining the last piece of my mother. As the world went black, a single, horrifying thought screamed in my mind: I cannot escape.”
1 Introduction2 Chapter 13 Chapter 24 Chapter 35 Chapter 46 Chapter 57 Chapter 68 Chapter 79 Chapter 810 Chapter 911 Chapter 1012 Chapter 1113 Chapter 1214 Chapter 1315 Chapter 1416 Chapter 1517 Chapter 1618 Chapter 1719 Chapter 1820 Chapter 1921 Chapter 20