The System Swapped Our Parents Love

I was the eternal runner-up, the shadow to the golden boys light, until the day the Exchange System bound itself to my soul.

Neon-bright commentaryvisible only to mebegan to scroll across my vision like a live stream chat from hell.

[Its over. This bitter, villainous side character has always been jealous of the male lead. Hes definitely going to use the System to steal the lead's SAT scores!]

[Thank god the male lead can hear the System, too. Now he can just coast, enjoy his youth, and sleep through the exams!]

[Let the villain scheme. What does it matter? Hell end up with a zero, and the lead will just get a building donated to Harvard in his name. Sweet justice!]

Villainous side character?

Me?

I almost laughed.

Who said I wanted to swap his test scores?

What I wanted was something far more expensive.

...

[Congratulations, Host. You have been bound to the Exchange System. You have exactly one opportunity to initiate a trade.]

I asked, internally, "Can I trade anything? Even exam scores?"

[Of course. Please designate your target.]

"Paxton Wentworth."

The moment his name left my lips, Paxton, standing a few lockers away, stiffened. His hands balled into fists. When he turned to look at me, his gaze was a cocktail of contempt and amusement.

So, the commentary was right. He could hear us.

Paxton Wentworth. The Valedictorian presumptive. The golden boy.

And then there was me. The scholarship kid. The charity case. The eternal Salutatorian.

He came from old money, a dynasty of wealth.

My mother, Debbie, was their housekeeper.

Debbie loved to remind me of my place.

"Master Paxton is like fine china," shed hiss, cigarette smoke curling from her lips. "Youre just a paper plate. What makes you think you deserve to sit at the same table?"

When Paxtons entourage locked me in the gym locker room overnight, Debbie didnt bat an eye.

"You must have upset him. He wouldn't discipline you without cause. You were born with a wretched fate, Dustin. Stop whining."

I used to think she was just terrified of losing her job, that her sycophancy was a survival tactic.

Then the floating comments told me the truth:

[The side character is actually tragic. Hes the real heir, switched at birth. His housekeeper 'mom' is actually Paxtons biological mother...]

[Tragic? Please. He deserves it. Who told him to be a snake and try to steal Paxton's scores? Thank god Paxton is prepared. Hes going to tank the test on purpose so the villain gets nothing!]

[Exactly. Once the villain is revealed as the biological son, the Wentworths will be too embarrassed to claim him. Paxton will crush him. Isolation, depression... he has it coming.]

Isolation? Depression? Suicide?

Sorry to disappoint the audience, but thats not in my script.

Because Im not swapping grades. Im playing for higher stakes.

Between classes, Paxton sauntered over to my desk, that signature effortless smirk plastered on his face.

"Dustin. Still clinging to second place, I see. Need a tutor?"

Dustin.

My mother named me that. I once asked to change it, telling her the kids called me "Dustbin."

Shed laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "You don't like it? You ungrateful little brat. Your father died right after you were bornyou're bad luck. 'Dustin' is better than you deserve."

That name was the weapon Paxtons friends used when they cornered me in the bathroom, forcing my head toward the toilet bowl.

"You're a Dustbin, right? Let's see if you like the smell of garbage."

Paxton had watched from the doorway then, wearing the exact same smile he wore now.

I kept my eyes on my textbook. "No thanks, Paxton. Your time is money. Focus on yourself."

"Aww, looking out for me?" Paxton chuckled, leaning in. "Let me let you in on a secret. Im done with school. The teachers here are too slow. My parents hired five Ivy League consultants for private coaching at the estate. By the time finals roll around, the gap between us is going to be a canyon."

He beamed, radiating confidence. The floating text went wild.

[Paxton is a genius! The fake tutor story will convince the villain to go through with the swap!]

[Meanwhile, Paxton is going to party his way to graduation. The villain is going to swap for a blank sheet of paper!]

[Who cares about grades when you're a Wentworth? He can buy his way into Yale. This is the alpha energy we need!]

True to his word, Paxton stopped coming to class.

Guided by the commentary, I once followed him to a high-end club downtown. I watched from the shadows as he downed shots with girls who looked like Instagram filters come to life, disappearing into a private room for the night.

I didnt judge. We were eighteen. Choices were made.

I chose to wear my oversized uniform and stick to my routine. Library. Desk. Sleep. Repeat.

Without Paxtons daily torment, I had more time to sharpen my mind.

I knew he had spies in the classroom, so I played my part. I feigned exhaustion. I let my head hit the desk. But the moment the final bell rang, I vanished into an abandoned janitors closet in the basement to study until my eyes burned.

If Paxton wanted a performance, Id give him one.

I was just dying to see the look on his face when he realized the swap never happened.

Examination Day. The culmination of twelve years of hell.

I walked to the testing center alone.

At the gates, a black SUV pulled up. The Wentworths emerged, looking like royalty. And there, trailing behind them, was Debbie.

They fussed over Paxton, adjusting his tie, handing him water. Debbie looked at him with a hunger, a desperate, fawning adoration she had never once shown me.

She hadnt been home in six months. Shed left me in our crumbling apartment in the worst part of town to live at the manor, catering to Paxtons every whim. She didnt leave a dime.

If I hadnt saved money from working nights at the diner, I would have starved.

But it was better this way. When Debbie was home, the noise was constant. The abuse was physical.

She looked at me like I was a stain she couldnt scrub out.

I never understood why.

Now, watching the live comments and the tableau before me, the puzzle pieces locked into place.

[I almost feel bad for the villain... his foster mom treats him like a dog and worships her bio-son. Even when he gets revealed as the real heir, his bio-parents won't want him. A life without love...]

[Whatever. Hes a cheater. If he wasn't trying to steal the score, we wouldn't get the satisfaction of the face-slap!]

[Wait... is he actually going to swap? He looks calm. Focused. Paxton looks... hungover.]

I suppressed a smile. Finally, a smart observer in the chat.

Paxton caught my eye and waved, loud and obnoxious.

"Dustin!"

The crowd turned.

"What are you smiling for? Feeling lucky?"

He strode over, radiating toxic charisma.

"I'm alright," I said flatly. "You?"

"Me? I've had those gold-medal tutors, remember? You've never beaten me before, and you certainly won't start today."

He was baiting the trap.

I looked him dead in the eye. "Paxton, take the test seriously. Good luck."

He sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. "Oh, for your sake, I will take it very seriously."

"Alright, that's enough!" Debbie rushed forward, placing herself between us like a human shield. "Dustin, you gutter rat, don't you dare distract Master Paxton with your bad juju. Get lost!"

Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth approached, wrinkling their noses at my frayed collar.

"Paxton, darling, don't engage with the help. Focus."

This was the first time I stood so close to my biological parents.

Thanks to the spoilers in the air, I felt nothing. No longing. No hope.

No expectation meant no disappointment.

I turned and walked into the exam hall.

I had held my breath for eighteen years. Today, I would finally exhale.

I attacked the exam with surgical precision. When the final pencil dropped, I felt like a samurai sheathing a blade.

Meanwhile, the comments updated me on Paxton.

[Paxton is a legend! He slept through the whole thing! He literally drooled on the answer sheet!]

[I can't wait for the swap! The villain is going to inherit a nap!]

[Wait... why did the villain write so furiously? That didn't look like someone expecting a free ride...]

Paxton had ignored my warning.

He had closed the academic door on himself.

Good. I had already locked the other exits.

A week later, the school held a projection assembly to estimate scores before the official release.

Paxton stood up, chest puffed out. "I'm calling it. 1580."

The class gasped. A near-perfect SAT score.

"That's higher than your mocks!" the guidance counselor exclaimed.

Paxton winked at me. "I had a breakthrough."

He turned the spotlight on me. "What about our runner-up? What's your estimate, Dustin?"

"About the same," I said quietly.

Paxton roared with laughter. "The same? You? Dreaming big today, aren't we?"

"Just telling the truth."

He didn't believe me. He thought I was posturing, preparing for the swap.

"Well," Paxton announced to the room, "It looks like we have a rivalry. Dads already called the press. On results day, were going to live-stream the moment. You game, Dustin?"

I nodded. "I wouldn't miss it."

Especially since I knew that results day was the exact date Debbie had chosen for the big reveal. The day she planned to claim her retirement fund.

Results Day.

The classroom was a circus. Cameras, parents, students, and curious onlookers squeezed into the space.

Paxton had done a great job hyping the "Battle of the Geniuses."

The comments were buzzing.

[Paxtons Harvard acceptance is already bought and paid for, but this is about dominance!]

[The villain is going to be humiliated live on camera. I have my popcorn ready!]

Students began logging into the portal.

"1250! Yes!"

"Damn, 1080... my mom is going to kill me."

"1420!"

The camera swung to us.

"We have two students predicting near-perfect scores. Gentlemen?"

Paxton shot me a look of pure arrogance and typed in his ID.

The screen refreshed.

The room went silent.

0. (Incomplete/Void)

"Zero? How is that possible?" The counselor stammered. "A system error?"

Paxton remained terrifyingly calm. He looked at me, a slow, predatory smile spreading across his face.

"Dustin. You really are ruthless. I thought you'd leave me with a low score, but a zero? You didn't even try to make it look real."

The crowd murmured. "What's he talking about?"

Paxton stood up, voice projecting for the back of the room.

"It sounds insane, but I swear on the Wentworth name this is the truth. Three months ago, I discovered Dustin bound a supernatural 'Exchange System' to himself. He planned to swap our exam results."

He paused for effect.

"I knew I couldn't stop him. So, I purposely tanked the test. I slept through it. I made sure that when he stole my score, he stole absolutely nothing!"

Pandemonium. Flashbulbs exploded.

Livestream comments poured in. "Is this real?" "Sorcery?"

I stood up slowly, adjusting my glasses.

"Paxton, failing is one thing. Inventing a sci-fi conspiracy theory to cover your shame is another."

"You know the truth!" he spat.

"Do I?" I kept my voice soft, dangerous. "I saw you at the club, Paxton. Every night. While I was studying, you were doing body shots. And now you want to blame a 'System'?"

He flinched. The crowds gaze shifted.

"I partied because I wasn't going to let you profit from my hard work!" Paxton yelled, losing his cool. "And I don't need the score! I'm a Wentworth! I'm going to Harvard anyway!"

The door banged open.

Mr. and Mrs. Wentworth marched in, followed by Debbie, whose eyes were bright with greed.

"That's right," Mr. Wentworth boomed. "We have spoken to the Dean. A substantial donation has been arranged. Paxtons legacy admission is secured."

[The Wentworths are dropping a whole building for him! Money talks!]

[The villain is finished. He stole a zero and lost his dignity.]

Emboldened, Paxton sneered at me. "Prove me wrong, Dustin. Log in. If your score is also zero, or remarkably low, it proves you tried to swap and failed!"

"Check the score!" the crowd chanted.

I smiled. "Alright."

I typed in my ID.

Paxton held his breath, eyes glued to the monitor.

The page loaded.

No numbers appeared. Just a banner in bold crimson text:

[SCORE PENDING. VERIFICATION REQUIRED. TOP 0.1% PERCENTILE.]

"A shielded score?"