THE DOUBLE DEBT

The icy seawater didn’t just freeze my skin; it numbed my very soul. As I sank into the abyss, the last thing I heard wasn’t the crashing of waves, but the shrill, triumphant laughter of my sister, Tong Vi Vi.

“You fool,” she had whispered into my ear right before pushing me off the ledge. “You’ve spent your whole life sewing a wedding dress for someone else. You didn’t know, did you? When you got the ‘Wishing System,’ I got the ‘Doubling System.’ Whatever you wished for, I received twice over. Your beauty, your wealth, even the love of your life—I took it all because you were too stupid to realize you were my stepping stone.”

Then, darkness.

But the darkness didn’t last. I woke up with a gasp, my lungs burning not with salt water, but with the dry air of my old bedroom. I looked at my hands—unscathed. I looked in the mirror—I was twenty-two again. It was the exact day the System arrived.

Ding!

The familiar mechanical chime resonated in my skull. I felt a chill of excitement rather than fear. From the room next door, a piercing shriek of joy erupted. Tong Vi Vi. She had just linked with her system. She thought she was about to embark on another life of luxury at my expense.

In my past life, I was naive. I wished for 100 million yuan; she got 200 million. I wished to be the most beautiful woman; she became a goddess. I wished for my childhood sweetheart, Co Chi Vu, to love me more than anyone; he became obsessed with her instead, claiming I was just a “shadow” of her radiant light.

I leaned against the doorframe, a cold smile playing on my lips. This time, Vi Vi, you are more than welcome to double everything I desire.

I didn’t rush. I sat on my bed and cleared my throat, speaking to the void.

“System,” I whispered. “For my first wish: I want the calories of everything I eat to be reduced by half.”

It sounded like a modest, vain wish. For a woman, staying fit without effort is a dream. But the math for Vi Vi was different. If my calories were halved ($1/2$), hers would be doubled in reduction—meaning she would only retain one-fourth ($1/4$) of the energy from her food. To maintain a basic metabolic rate, she would have to consume nearly 4,000 to 5,000 calories a day just to avoid wasting away.

The next morning, the tension in the house was palpable. Vi Vi cornered me in the hallway, her eyes searching mine with frantic greed.

“Did you… did you wish for something yet?” she hissed, grabbing my arm. “Don’t waste it! Think about money! Think about our parents! Don’t you want to be more beautiful?”

I pulled my arm away, tilting my head. “Why are you so concerned with my wishes, Vi Vi? I’ll wish for what I want.”

At the breakfast table, our mother’s favoritism was on full display. She set a steaming bowl of seafood porridge in front of me and a plate of my favorite buns.

“Eat up, Kieu Kieu,” Mom said warmly.

Vi Vi’s face turned ashen. “Mom, you know I’m allergic to seafood! Why did you only make that?”

“Your sister likes it,” Mom snapped, not even looking up. “If you can’t eat it, eat a bun. Stop being so difficult.”

Vi Vi’s fork clattered against the plate. She stormed off, but I saw the hunger in her eyes. I ate slowly, savoring every bite. My parents didn’t love me; they loved the value I provided. In the last life, when Vi Vi became richer and prettier, they discarded me like trash. Their “love” was a commodity.

Days turned into weeks. I ate everything I desired—fried chicken, cakes, heavy pastas. I felt energetic and stayed perfectly lean. Vi Vi, however, was terrified. She was losing weight at an alarming rate. Her face grew sharp, her collarbones jutting out like knives. She began eating like a glutton, shoving food into her mouth at all hours, yet she remained perpetually famished.

Then came the call from Co Chi Vu.

“Tong Kieu! Do you know how long I’ve been waiting at the restaurant? It’s our anniversary!”

I looked at the clock. I had “forgotten” on purpose. “I’m sorry, Chi Vu. I’m tied up at work. Maybe another time?”

I hung up before he could argue. Then, I sent a voice note to Vi Vi, my voice dripping with fake desperation. “Vi Vi, I can’t make it to my date with Chi Vu. The reservation is paid for. Please, go in my place so he isn’t lonely?”

She replied with a single word: “OK.”

I knew her. She hated me, but she wanted everything I had. And Chi Vu? He was a man of calculations. If he saw a “better” version of me, he would jump ship. I was simply waiting for the right moment to catch them.

A month later, I found them. Not at a restaurant, but in the stairwell of our own home.

“Chi Vu… we shouldn’t. If my sister finds out…” Vi Vi’s voice was a breathy pout. She was dangerously thin now, but her features were hauntingly sharp, a skeletal beauty that appealed to Chi Vu’s twisted aesthetics.

“Forget her,” Chi Vu growled, pinning her to the wall. “I was blind to waste years on that dull girl. You’re the one I want.”

I stepped out from the shadows, tapping my phone screen. “First, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Second, this is officially cheating. And third,” I showed them the recording, “I have the evidence.”

The breakup was swift. I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg. I walked away with a lightness in my chest that terrified them. My parents, seeing Chi Vu gravitate toward Vi Vi, immediately switched sides, calling me ungrateful and showering Vi Vi with the affection they had once “reserved” for me.

It was time for the second wish.

“System,” I said. “I wish for more ‘Emotional Resilience’ (Bluntness).”

I had always been too sensitive, overanalyzing every look and word. I wanted peace. But the Doubling System translated “Double Bluntness” for Vi Vi into something catastrophic: Social Aphasia. She lost the ability to understand subtext, sarcasm, or social cues. She became a person who could only interpret things literally and selfishly, unable to read the room.

The disaster peaked at Co Chi Vu’s mother’s 50th birthday gala.

Vi Vi arrived, looking like a desperate social climber. When Mrs. Co showed off a painting she had made, modestly saying it was “no better than a child’s work,” Vi Vi nodded vigorously.

“You’re right,” Vi Vi said loudly. “My three-year-old niece has more spirit in her strokes. This is quite amateur.”

The room went silent. Mrs. Co’s face turned a shade of purple I hadn’t seen before.

Later, when a guest complimented the Co family’s wealth, Vi Vi blurted out, “Oh, Chi Vu says most of the profit comes from bribes to government officials anyway. But he’s buying me a villa with the rest!”

Chi Vu looked like he wanted to vanish into the floorboards.

But the true horror happened during dinner. A small child at the next table choked on a hard candy. The boy’s face turned blue instantly. A young woman, a professional nurse, rushed over to perform the Heimlich maneuver.

“Don’t touch him! I’m a nurse!” she yelled.

Because of her “Double Bluntness,” Vi Vi’s brain malfunctioned. She interpreted the nurse’s intervention as an attack. She lunged forward, shoving the nurse away.

“You’ll kill him like that!” Vi Vi screamed. “You have to hit him! Harder!”

She grabbed the choking child and began slamming her fist into his back, then shoved her dirty fingers down his throat, pushing the candy deeper. The child began to seize.

I didn’t hesitate. I lunged forward, ripped the child from her skeletal grip, and shoved him into the nurse’s arms. As the nurse successfully dislodged the candy, I turned and delivered a stinging slap across Vi Vi’s face.

“Are you insane?” I roared. “You almost murdered a child!”

The gala ended in disgrace. Mrs. Co refused to speak to Vi Vi again. In the parking lot, Chi Vu’s facade finally broke.

“You’re a monster, Vi Vi! You eat like a pig—I watched you finish four people’s portions tonight—and you act like a fool! My mother hates you!”

“But I was hungry…” Vi Vi sobbed, her literal mind unable to grasp the gravity of her social suicide.

Desperate to tie herself to the Co family, Vi Vi followed our mother’s toxic advice: get pregnant. She began obsessed with “tonics.”

One afternoon, Mom left a pot of mung beans to soak. “Don’t use the pressure cooker, Vi Vi,” Mom warned. “The skins can block the valve. It’s dangerous.”

But Vi Vi, in her literal, stubborn state, ignored her. “It’s just a pot,” she muttered.

BOOM.

The explosion rocked the house. Vi Vi was standing right over it.

I arrived at the hospital to find her wrapped in bandages like a mummy. Her face and arms were severely burned. Because she was so malnourished from the calorie wish, her body struggled to heal. The scars would be permanent—thick, ropy, and hideous.

When Chi Vu visited, he didn’t offer comfort. He looked at her with pure loathing. I saw him looking at me, his eyes filled with a disgusting, lingering “regret.” He realized he had traded a diamond for a piece of broken, scorched glass.

It was time for my final wish.

“System,” I whispered. “I wish for my future husband to be a man of thirty years.”

If my husband was to be thirty, then according to the logic of the Doubling System, the “man of her destiny” would have to be sixty.

The fallout was beautiful. Chi Vu tried to crawl back to me; I responded by posting the video of his cheating online, destroying his reputation and his chance at the family inheritance. He vanished into obscurity.

Vi Vi, scarred and mentally unstable, became a recluse. My parents, realizing she was no longer an “asset,” treated her like a burden.

Enter Mr. Ly. He was a sixty-year-old man who collected recyclables around our complex. He was a kind soul, a former teacher who lived frugally to fund poor students. He saw Vi Vi in her most pathetic state—hungry, scarred, and babbling—and he gave her a piece of bread.

Because Vi Vi was so starved for literal and emotional nourishment, she latched onto him. He was the only person who didn’t look at her with greed or disgust. In a twist of fate, the Doubling System gave her exactly what she needed but never wanted: a man twice the age of mine, who possessed none of the wealth she craved, but all of the heart she lacked.

They eventually married. My parents didn’t even attend the wedding, glad to be rid of the “debt.”

As for me? I moved to a new city and cut all ties.

The calorie wish kept me healthy and vibrant. The resilience wish made me a powerhouse in the corporate world. And the third wish?

I met Chu Cam Minh at a business gala. He was exactly thirty—composed, brilliant, and kind. We didn’t need a system to fall in love; we just needed to be the right people at the right time.

On my wedding day, I looked at the horizon. My sister had doubled her greed and received a double life of hardship. I had simply wished for a life that was mine.

The wedding dress I wore today wasn’t for someone else. It was finally, perfectly, mine.