Chapter 15 – A Painful Rejection

I head outside, stretching my legs and trying to psyche myself up for what's about to be an hour of pure suffering. Running is objectively the worst form of exercise. Boring. Painful. Sweat-inducing. Why did humans evolve to need this? What kind of cruel joke is the human body that it requires us to torture ourselves like this just to stay healthy?

I start jogging down the sidewalk, and within the first twenty minutes, I discover that I hate cardio.

Everything hurts.

There's this horrible stitch in my side that makes me want to double over and die. My lungs are burning. My legs are burning. Everything is burning. I thought regular workouts were bad, but this? This is hell. I've died and gone to hell.

You won’t die! You're doing great! ???

The system notification pops up with what I can only describe as aggressively cheerful encouragement. I'm not sure if it helps or makes me more annoyed, scratch that, definitely annoyed, but I keep moving.

I take a break. Then another break. Then a third break where I seriously consider just lying down on the sidewalk and becoming one with the pavement.

But I keep going. See? There are some benefits to being stubborn as a mule.

An hour later, I stumble back home, drenched in sweat, gasping for air, and seriously reconsidering every life choice that led me to this moment.

Ding!

You've completed the quest: Runnin'!

Rewards:

I collapse on the front steps of my house, too exhausted to even celebrate. But then another notification pops up, and I force myself to focus on it.

Ding! Quest log updated.

Daily Run - Continuous Quest

Description: Running is good for your heart and body. You're going to need high endurance for many aspects of your life, and some fun ones ?. So keep working hard, and run straight for your goals! You'll earn 1 evolution point every three days you keep this up!

Quest Details:

Quest Progress:

Quest Rewards:

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

A continuous quest? I have to do this every day?

I stare at the notification with the kind of betrayed expression usually reserved for finding out your favorite character dies in a show. This system has no mercy. None.

But... one evolution point every three days is actually pretty good. That's a steady income of points without needing to complete major quests.

I stumble home, thoroughly exhausted, and find Bianca in the kitchen. She's chopping vegetables with the kind of precision that suggests she's done this a thousand times, wearing a cute pink apron over her goth aesthetic that somehow makes the whole thing even more Bianca. Selene is sprawled on the couch, scrolling through her phone with one hand and eating chips with the other.

"Hey, Bianca?" I say, hovering awkwardly in the kitchen doorway.

She glances up, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Could you... cook less food for me at dinner?"

The knife stops mid-chop. Bianca's head snaps up, her teal eyes wide with confusion. On the couch, Selene drops her phone, head popping up like a meerkat sensing danger.

"I'm sorry," Bianca says slowly, like she's making sure she heard me correctly. "You want less food?"

"Yeah."

"You," Bianca points at me accusingly, "who eats more than anyone else in this house? Who asks for seconds and thirds and sometimes fourths? You want less food?"

Bianca and Selene exchange a look that I can't quite decipher. The kind of look that siblings share when they think you're being weird but can't quite figure out why. Concern? Confusion?

"Are you feeling okay?" Selene asks, sitting up and looking genuinely worried.

"I'm fine! I just... I'm trying to eat healthier. Looking after my figure and all that."

Bianca stares at me for a long moment, then a small, warm smile spreads across her face. "Okay. Looking after your figure, I see." She says it bluntly, but there's a warm smile on her face. No judgment, just... acceptance? Which somehow makes me feel even more self-conscious.

"Yeah. So. Less food. Please."

"Sure," Bianca says with a smile, before turning back to her vegetables. "I can do that."

Dinner that night is strange.

Bianca serves me a smaller portion than usual, and I can feel both my sisters watching me like I'm some kind of science experiment. But they don't say anything. They just... let me do my thing.

Of course, that doesn't stop them from stealing food off my plate.

"Hey!" I protest as Selene spears one of my pieces of chicken with her fork.

"What?" she says innocently, popping it into her mouth. "You said you wanted less food. I'm helping."

"That's not—"

Bianca reaches over and steals a roasted potato.

"Are you kidding me?!"

"You need to learn to defend your plate better," Bianca says, utterly deadpan.

My sisters are so disgustingly cute while being the most annoying people on the planet. I love my sisters. I really do.

Before bed, I pull out my phone and search for "healthy breakfast options." The results are... intimidating. Apparently, "healthy" involves a lot of vegetables, which I was afraid of. Apparently, Pop-Tarts don't count as a balanced meal. Who knew?

I screenshot a few simple recipes, scrambled eggs with vegetables seems doable, and set my alarm for 6:30 AM.

This is going to suck.

And it does.

My clock goes off at 6:30 AM, and I seriously consider hurling it across the room.

I drag myself out of bed, shuffle downstairs, and head straight for the kitchen. The smell of coffee hits me first, rich and warm, and I find Mom already there, wearing her cream-colored sweater and comfortable jeans, her long green hair pulled back in a loose ponytail. She's at the stove, preparing what looks like pancakes and bacon.

"Good morning, sweetheart," she says, glancing up with that warm smile that makes everything feel a little better. "You're up early. That's unusual for you."

"Yeah, well..." I shuffle awkwardly. "I was actually hoping I could make my own breakfast today. If that's okay."

Mom pauses mid-flip, turning to look at me fully. For a moment, surprise flickers across her face, but it quickly melts into something that looks almost proud.

"Of course that's okay," she says gently, her voice soft with emotion. She sets down her spatula and closes the distance between us, pulling me into a hug before I can react.

I freeze for half a second before returning the embrace, and immediately I'm reminded of just how soft she is. At five-foot-two, my face presses directly into her chest, cushioned by the generous curves that her sweater does absolutely nothing to hide. The fabric is soft against my cheek, and I can feel the warmth radiating from her body. Her breasts compress gently on either side of my face, enveloping me in softness that's both comforting and deeply arousing.

She smells incredible as always, the warm honey and morning dew scent wafting off of her. It's the same scent that's always made me feel safe, and I find myself relaxing into the hug despite the awkwardness.

"I think it's wonderful that you want to do this," she murmurs, and I can hear the smile in her voice. She gives me one last squeeze before pulling back, her hands resting on my shoulders as she looks down at me. "I'm so proud of you, you know. Trying to take care of yourself like this."

"It's not that big of a deal," I mumble, feeling my face heat up.

"It is to me," she says simply. Then she smiles and gestures toward the counter space beside her. "There's plenty of room here. I'll just make pancakes and bacon for your sisters. Don't be shy about asking if you need help with anything."

"I'll try not to burn down your kitchen," I say weakly.

She laughs, light and musical. "I'd appreciate that."

I start pulling out ingredients while Mom continues cooking for Selene and Bianca. It's actually kind of nice, working alongside her like this. She hums softly while she works, and her scent surrounds me as we move around the kitchen. Occasionally she glances over to see what I'm doing, offering gentle suggestions without being intrusive about it.

Cooking. Right. I can do this. How hard can it be?

Thirty minutes later, I'm staring down at a plate of scrambled eggs mixed with some random vegetables I found in the fridge. It doesn't look great. The eggs are slightly overdone, and they have this disgusting rubbery texture. Also, it’s terribly bland, not enough salt. The vegetables, peppers and spinach, are kind of sad and wilted.

But I made it myself, and it's healthy. Probably.

I force myself to eat every bite, even though it tastes like regret.

When Bianca and Selene walk into the kitchen, they find Mom setting down plates of perfectly golden pancakes and crispy bacon for them, while I'm finishing up my sad-looking scrambled eggs.

"What's that?" Selene asks, pointing at my plate with idle curiosity.

"Breakfast," I say defensively. "That I made myself."

"Oh! It looks..." Selene pauses, clearly searching for something diplomatic to say. "...very healthy."

“It looks like shit,” Bianca says with a laugh.

“Hey, language!” Fiona reprimands her.

"It tastes about as good as it looks," I admit.

Mom laughs softly from where she's pouring herself coffee. "It'll get easier with practice, sweetheart."

I keep up this routine for the next day as well. Wake up at an ungodly hour to cook a breakfast that's actively offensive to food while Mom makes a proper breakfast for my sisters. Complete my skincare routine, once in the morning, and once at night. Get through school, before suffering through my workout routine. Endure the daily torture of a 5K run, with the system cheerfully encouraging me at regular intervals like the world's most persistent and optimistic personal trainer.

It's exhausting. In the morning, I wake up sore. In the evening, I collapse into bed feeling like I've been hit by a truck. But I can feel myself changing. Slowly. Gradually. But it's happening.

Ding! Your Strength has increased by 1

Ding! Your Dexterity has increased by 1

Ding! Your Endurance has increased by 1

Ding! Your Willpower has increased by 1

The notifications are like little digital high-fives every time they pop up. Yes, Adam! You didn't die! Here's your prize!

By Friday, I'm feeling weirdly confident. Confident enough to do something stupid, apparently.

At lunch, Luna and I are sitting at our usual corner table, and I decide to shoot my shot.

Well, not that shot. I'm not an idiot. But I want to spend more time with Luna outside of school. We only see each other during fourth period and lunch, which is amazing enough, but I want more. She's funny and nerdy and adorable, and I genuinely enjoy her company.

"Hey, Luna?" I say, interrupting her mid-ramble about some new gacha game.

She looks up, violet eyes blinking at me. "Y-yeah?"

"Do you want to... eat out with me after school? Today?"

The moment the words leave my mouth, I realize how that sounded.

Luna's entire face turns bright red. Like, bright red. Tomato red. Her eyes go wide, and she's opening and closing her mouth like a fish, she looks shy and nervous and embarrassed and a little sad, like—

Oh no.

"I... I'm sorry," she stammers, staring down at her lunch. "I... I don't like you in that way..."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I didn't—I wasn't—

She just—did she just—

I didn't even mean to ask her on a date, but I got rejected? Pre-rejected? I didn't even properly ask her out and I still got shot down. This is a new low, even for me.

I knew she wouldn't be into me. I knew that. Obviously. But having it confirmed so directly, so immediately, hurts more than I expected. It's like having your worst assumptions validated in the most painful way possible.

"I didn't—" I start, my voice coming out strangled. "I didn't mean like a date! I just, I just wanted to spend more time with you! As friends! We don't see each other outside of school, and I thought, I just thought it would be fun to hang out!"

Luna's head snaps up, and now she looks mortified for an entirely different reason.

"Oh! Oh no! I… I thought… I'm so sorry! I didn't mean—"

"No, it's okay. I… I should have been clearer."

"I just thought… because you said 'eat out'… and I panicked…"

"No, it’s okay. I… I should have been clearer."

We're both talking over each other, faces red, stumbling over our words like a pair of socially incompetent disasters.

Luna finally takes a breath, clutching her hoodie strings like they're the only thing keeping her grounded. "So... you just want to hang out? As friends?"

"Yeah. Just as friends."

"Oh." She relaxes slightly, though her face is still pink. "I... I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But... um... can we go somewhere quiet? I'm not... I'm not good with crowds."

"Of course. We’ll find a place."

She nods, a tiny smile appearing on her face. "Okay. That sounds... nice."

Whew. It's fine. Everything is fine.

I'm definitely going to be thinking about the phrase "I don't like you in that way" for the next several months. That's going to haunt me. But hey, at least our friendship’s still going strong.

Ding! Your Charm has increased by 1

The rest of the school day passes in a blur of classes and a growing sense of anticipation mixed with anxiety. I'm going to hang out with Luna after school. As friends. This is fine. This is normal! People hang out with friends all the time.

I can do this.

Probably.