“I died in war. Not some glorious, heroic blaze—but bleeding out in the dirt, body riddled with shrapnel, trying to protect a civvie who didn’t make it anyway. Fifty years of life, thirty-two of service. Gone.” “Next thing I know, I’m sixteen. New name. Young body. Same last name, same soul. And a voice in my head that calls itself the ‘MILF System.’” “Says I’ve been chosen—recruited—to heal women who’ve been forgotten by time. Women who gave everything—love, body, identity—and got left with silence. The broken. The bitter. The beautiful.” “You’d think I’d be annoyed. But truth is? I always preferred women with experience. Women who’ve lived through some shit.” “And now I’m surrounded by them. Teachers. Neighbors. Café owners. Single mothers who flinch when someone says 'love' too casually. They look at me like I’m just a kid. But I look at them... and I see the cracks.” “The system gives me quests. Tells me who needs help. Who’s falling apart behind the smile. What they’ve buried so deep they forgot it was ever there.” “And me? I complete the missions. I do what I do best. I infiltrate. I break down walls. I make them feel again. Not because it’s my job... but because it’s the only damn thing that makes me feel human anymore.” “This isn’t a game. It’s war. Emotional, intimate, soul-shaking war. And I don’t leave anyone behind.”
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