My heart beats a little faster. This isn't just a simple image; it's a live, responsive feed of my old reality.
The capability of this power is staggering. My original world is somewhere unfathomable miles perhaps even dimensions away from this grand, antique-furnished bedroom in the Valerius estate. And yet, with just a thought, I am looking directly at my own body, resting on a sterile hospital bed as clearly as if I were standing right beside it.
Fascinated and eager to test the limits of this mysterious gift, I decide to push further.
"Show me the hospital from the outside," I command it.
Instantly, the screen ripples and shifts, the sterile white ICU walls dissolving into a wide-angle, crystal-clear view of the hospital building under the night sky, complete with cars passing quietly along the wet asphalt outside.
My breath catches in my throat as I watch the cars move in real-time, pedestrians walking by, and the wind rustling the trees near the entrance. I stare at the display, absolutely mesmerized.
"W-wow..." this is incredible, I whisper, my mind spinning with sheer amazement. "It's just like a live stream! It's showing me precisely whatever I want to look at, whatever I want to know and watch, instantly reacting to my orders."
It feels as though I have my own private television station, broadcasting real-time footage from thousands of miles away across the fabric of space and dimensions. The sheer capability of it leaves me completely breathless.
"If it can do that..." I whisper to myself, a spark of curiosity overriding my shock. "Let's see if I can see something else."
I focus my intent, issuing the next command directly to the mysterious interface. "Show me my brother."
The screen blurs and re-centers, panning into a familiar bedroom. Within seconds, I see my brother. He is sound asleep in his bed, curled up under the covers with a textbook awkwardly splayed open on the floor beside him.
I stare at the display, blinking in realization.
"Ah, right," I murmur to myself, lightly slapping my forehead. "It's late. Everyone would be asleep by now. I completely forgot about the time difference and the late hour."
A soft, self-deprecating sigh escapes my lips as I shake my head at my own forgetfulness. Since I can check in on them in real-time, it makes me wonder what else this interface is capable of. Can it pull up past events like a video tape?
Curiosity piques my interest, and I decide to test the boundaries of this power.
Maybe I should try looking back, I think to myself. Can it show me what happened earlier today?
Determined to find out, I focus my intent directly on the floating interface and issue a new command.
"Can you show me what my brother was doing twelve hours earlier?" I command it. "Give me a playback of that time."
Instantly, the screen ripples like water, rewinding the timeline. The dark, sleeping scene dissolves into daylight. Within seconds, the view shifts to a bustling college hallway and then a classroom. After few seconds, I spot my brother. He is sitting at a desk in a college lecture hall, taking notes, though his expression looks heavy and exhausted, weighed down by the stress of everything that has happened. A pang of sympathy hits my chest, but suddenly I start to miss my parents . So I push my sadness aside to reveal the next command.
My breath catches. It worked! It really is like a magical archive, capable of pulling up past events on command.
Encouraged by the success, I decide to check on the rest of my family from earlier in the day, before night fell and forced them to rest.
"Show me my father twelve hours earlier," I order the system.
The view shifts again. This time, the scene resolves into the bustling, warm interior of a restaurant kitchen or dining hall. My breath catches in my throat. My father, a man who should be enjoying a quiet retirement after decades of hard work, is dressed in an apron, carrying a tray and serving food to customers. The hospital bills, the crushing weight of my medical debt, it has forced him back into the grueling routine of labor.
A heavy knot forms in my stomach, but before I can fully process the guilt, a bitter voice in my head urges me to check further.
"And my mother," I whisper, my throat tightening. "Show me what she was doing twelve hours earlier."
The screen morphs once more, revealing a tidy but unfamiliar interior. At first, I think she might be at home but as the camera angle widens, I notice the expensive decor, the polished marble counters, and the foreign layout of the rooms. This isn't our apartment.
"Show me more of the room," I command the screen.
The perspective pans, revealing my mother scrubbing a floor in someone else's luxurious home, her hands red and weary as she works as a domestic helper to scrape together whatever funds she can.
The breath leaves my lungs, replaced by a suffocating wave of disappointment and self-loathing. While I am here, living the life of a wealthy young noblewoman named Eleanor, eating warm porridge, commanding maids, and laughing with everyone, my aging parents are breaking their backs just to keep my empty shell alive in a hospital bed back home.
I start to think, 'It's a dire situation', my eyes stinging with hot, unbidden tears as I stare at the glowing screen. How can I be sitting here, tasting comfort and luxury, while they suffer because of me?
For a long, agonizing moment, guilt threatens to crush me entirely. I feel utterly useless, trapped in a gilded cage in another world while my real family bleeds dry for my sake.
Slowly, however, the sharp, practical resilience that defines me begins to push through the despair. I take a deep, shaky breath and force myself to calm down.
There is no use panicking over what I cannot fix right this second, I tell myself, my jaw starts tightening with resolve. I can't teleport back right now, and wallowing in guilt won't pay their bills. But this power... this miraculous gift... proves that connection hasn't been completely severed.
I look at the glowing image of my mother's tired face one last time before letting out a quiet, determined sigh.
When I will return to my world again, I will make things right, I promise silently. I'll convince them I'm fine, put an end to this nightmare, and make sure they never have to worry about a single cent again.