Chapter 34 – Another Average Day (R-16?)

[Note - Only slightly lewd. I’d say there’s more wholesome than horny in this chapter though.]

The alarm goes off at 5:00 AM, and I contemplate the philosophical question of whether throwing my clock across the room would make the noise stop or just add "buy new clock" to my list of problems.

I choose option two: actually waking up.

Look, I'm getting used to this whole "waking up before the sun" thing, but that doesn't mean I'm good at it. My body still feels like it's been filled with wet cement, and my brain is running on approximately two brain cells that are taking turns being awake.

The Efficient Sleeper perk is looking really tempting right now. It's only 10 evolution points to reduce my required sleep by 5%. That's not much, but it might be enough to stop me from feeling like a zombie every morning. The problem is I'm trying to save up for the perk Training Expert, which costs a whopping 50 evolution points but would give me an additional 20% workout efficiency. And if I get stronger, I can do tougher workouts, which means more evolution points from my Daily Routine quest, which means I’ll get stronger, which means…

Okay, I'm thinking in circles. Also, I'm still lying in bed like an idiot.

I force myself upright and immediately regret every decision that led to this moment. My room greets me with its usual charm: the water stain on the ceiling that definitely looks like Abraham Lincoln (he’s looking down at me, disappointed that I’m still in bed), the ancient desktop computer that sounds like a jet engine when it runs, and the carpet that's probably older than I am.

Home sweet home.

I start stretching, and my muscles protest every movement, which is either a good sign that I'm actually working out hard enough, or a bad sign that I'm getting old at eighteen.

Okay. Time to embrace the suffering.

My workout has gotten significantly more intense since I started. I begin with 20 push-ups, and I'm pleased to note that they're getting easier. Not easy, mind you, but easier. My arms don't feel like they're going to snap off anymore, which is progress.

Ten tricep dips against my bed frame. The frame creaks ominously with each dip, and I send a silent prayer to whatever god protects cheap furniture that today is not the day it gives up and collapses beneath me.

Thirty squats. My thighs are burning. This is great. I love pain. Pain is just weakness leaving the body, or whatever motivational posters say.

Twenty calf raises. At this point, I'm starting to sweat, these are deceptively brutal for something that sounds so simple.

I transition into core work: 30 crunches, 10 leg raises, and a minute-long plank. The plank is psychological warfare. Time moves differently when you're planking. A minute feels like three hours, and every second your body is screaming at you to give up and accept your fate as a weakling.

I don't give up though. Because I'm stubborn.

Finally, I finish with 50 jumping jacks, which sounds easy until you remember I've just done everything else. My lungs are burning, my legs feel like jelly, and I'm pretty sure my heart is trying to escape my body.

I do my best to complete three sets of this torture routine, starting each new set once I stop breathing like I've just run a marathon.

By the time I'm done, I'm drenched in sweat and questioning all my life choices.

I head out for my run, and the cool morning air hits my face like a blessing from the universe. The streets are mostly empty at this hour, just me and the occasional car passing by, and there's something peaceful about it. Like the world hasn't woken up yet, and I get to exist in this quiet space before everything gets loud and complicated.

I've upgraded from my usual 5km to 7km recently. The 5km route was starting to feel too easy, which is both satisfying and terrifying because it means I'm going to have to keep pushing myself harder. The fitness app on my phone tracks my distance, and I watch the numbers tick up with each step.

My legs are still protesting from the workout, but I push through it. There's something almost meditative about running once you get past the initial "why am I doing this to myself" phase. My mind wanders, thinking about my side project, about school, about the board game last night.

I still can't believe I lost by one point. ONE POINT. The universe has a sick sense of humor.

By the time I finish the run, my shirt is completely soaked through, and I probably smell like a gym locker, but I feel... good? Accomplished? It's weird. I'm starting to actually enjoy this routine. Not the waking up part, that still sucks, but the actual process of getting fitter is kind of satisfying.

My system suddenly chimes in with a message that appears in my vision, and I can practically hear the enthusiasm:

ADAM!! Look at you go! I'm seriously SO proud of how far you've come!

I can't help but laugh, shaking my head. The system's like an overly enthusiastic cheerleader that lives in my brain, and honestly? It's kind of great.

"Thanks for all the motivation," I whisper, probably looking like a crazy person talking to thin air. "It really helps."

There's a pause, and then: ?

I laugh again, feeling warmth spread through my chest. Even my system gets flustered. That's adorable.

I head back inside and go through the rest of my morning routine on autopilot: shower (hot water, my beloved), facial routine (cleanser, moisturizer), styling my hair into something that doesn't look like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket, and then making breakfast.

Breakfast is simple: scrambled eggs, toast, and some fruit. I'm getting better at cooking, which is nice. The eggs are actually fluffy instead of rubbery, and I only burned the toast a little bit.

After eating, I settle in at my desk and knock out some homework. Simple math problems, an English essay that I'm bullshitting, and some history reading that's actually kind of interesting once you get past the dry textbook language.

Then I switch over to my side project: the AI stock market trading software. I'm still working on getting it to trade automatically.

Before I know it, it's time to head to work.

Eight hours of work blur together in a haze of napkin deliveries and water refills. No major disasters today, which is always a win. Mr. Vale was his usual elegant self, dispensing wisdom while gliding around the cafe.

By the time I get home, I'm exhausted. My body is still sore from the morning workout, my brain is fried from thinking about code, and all I want to do is collapse into bed and pass out.

I eat a quick dinner (leftover pasta from yesterday), and take a shower, changing into a worn t-shirt and joggers. Comfort clothes. The kind of clothes that say "I'm done with the outside world, leave me alone."

I walk back into my room and sit at my computer, ready to put in another hour or two on my side project before surrendering to sleep.

"Adam! Could you help me with homework?" Selene's voice rings out from across the hall, bright and cheerful despite the late hour.

I groan.

"Ughhhh... okayyyy."

It's not that I don't want to help. It's just that I'm tired, and I know from experience that "help with homework" usually turns into a two-hour ordeal where I have to explain the same concept five different ways before it clicks.

But I can't say no to my family. It's like I'm physically incapable of it. Some people have superpowers. I have the superhuman ability to be a pushover for the people I love.

I drag myself out of my chair and head across the hall to Selene's room.

Her door is already open, and the first thing that hits me is the scent. That impossibly sweet strawberry smell mixed with whatever perfume or body spray she uses, complex and layered in a way that makes my brain go fuzzy. It's everywhere, saturating the air, and I have to actively remind myself to breathe normally and not look like a complete weirdo.

The room itself is organized chaos incarnate. Pink accents everywhere: pink bedsheets, pink curtains, even some of her furniture has pink highlights. The walls are plastered with posters: anime characters in dramatic poses, band posters from groups I vaguely recognize, some K-pop idols. Her desk is a disaster zone of makeup products, school supplies, and her desktop computer setup with RGB lights glowing softly from inside her PC case. A pink gaming headset with cat ears sits on its little holder.

In the corner sits a huge dresser, dark wood that doesn't quite match the pink aesthetic but is clearly stuffed full based on how one of the drawers is slightly open with fabric spilling out.

Selene's sitting cross-legged on her bed, laptop balanced on her lap, her history textbook open beside her. She's wearing a loose white t-shirt, and short cotton shorts that ride up her thighs. My eyes catch on her legs before I can stop them: those thick, toned thighs that seem to go on forever, the smooth pale skin, the way the shorts have ridden up slightly—

Stop. Stop it. Eyes up. She's your sister. Be normal.

I force my gaze to her face. She's looking at me with those beautiful pink eyes, her hair slightly messy like she's been running her hands through it in frustration.

And then I make the mistake of noticing that she's definitely not wearing a bra. The loose t-shirt does nothing to hide that fact, the fabric clinging and draping in ways that make it very, very obvious. I can see the outline of everything, the way her breasts move when she shifts position, how the shirt stretches across—

Jesus Christ, Adam. Get it together.

"I need help with my history essay," she says, completely oblivious to my internal crisis. "It's about World War II and the tensions between countries, and I just… ugh, I don't know if I'm explaining it right."

Before I can respond or even make it fully through the doorway, I hear footsteps behind me. Bianca brushes past, and the movement sends a wave of her scent washing over me. Cherry. Sweet and earthy and distinctly her. It mixes with Selene's strawberry scent in the air, creating this intoxicating combination that makes my head spin.

She's carrying her math textbook and a notebook, and she's wearing an oversized anime t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder and... that's it. Just the shirt. Well, presumably underwear underneath, but no pants, and the shirt barely covers mid-thigh. Her thick thighs are on full display, pale skin smooth and soft-looking, and they jiggle slightly with each step she takes.

"Help me too," Bianca says bluntly, already claiming her spot on Selene's bed without asking permission. She sits down, and I catch a glimpse of black panties before I snap my eyes away so fast I almost give myself whiplash.

Her black hair with the green tips falls over her shoulders, messy and unstyled, and without her goth makeup, her face is softer, more vulnerable. Those teal eyes are still striking though, framed by naturally thick eyebrows. Her small lips quirk into a smirk when she notices me standing there like a deer in headlights.

"You gonna stand there all night, or you gonna help?" she asks.

Right. Homework. I'm here to help with homework. Academic assistance. Educational support. Nothing weird.

I shuffle over to the bed and settle between them, and the old bed frame creaks ominously under the added weight. The mattress dips, and both of my sisters naturally lean toward me, gravity doing its work.

I glance around the room more carefully now. Through all the pink and posters, I can see the signs of wear. The bed frame is definitely over a decade old, probably older. There are water stains on the ceiling, yellowish marks that Mom can't afford to fix. Some of the posters are strategically placed, and I realize they're probably hiding cracks in the walls.

It makes my chest tighten a little. Mom works so hard—

My thoughts are interrupted when they both lean into me. Selene presses against my right side, her body warm and soft, and I can feel every curve of her even through her t-shirt. Bianca cuddles into my left, her bare thigh pressing against mine, and the contact sends electricity up my spine.

"Okay," I say, and my voice comes out slightly strangled. I clear my throat. "Selene, show me what you've got so far. Bianca, what are you working on?"

"Calculus," Bianca mutters, shifting to show me her notebook. "It's bullshit."

"Language," Selene says, grinning.

"Fuck off." Bianca replies pleasantly.

"Bianca!" Selene gasps, but she's giggling.

"You're both getting off topic," I interrupt, desperately trying to focus on the textbooks instead of the two beautiful girls pressed against me. "Bianca, show me the problem."

I take a look at the calculus problem, "Alright, so this one is asking for the derivative," I say, pointing at the equation. "You need to use the power rule. Remember that?"

"Uh..." Bianca tilts her head, and I can hear the soft rustle of her hair against her shirt. "...No?"

Of course not.

"Okay, so when you have x to the power of n, you bring the n down in front and reduce the power by one. So x squared becomes 2x. Makes sense?"

Bianca stares at the page, chewing on her bottom lip in concentration. It's cute. Dangerously cute. I'm noticing too much.

"...Maybe?"

While I'm explaining the power rule again using different examples, Selene shifts beside me, adjusting her laptop.

"Adam?" Selene's voice breaks through my thoughts. "Can you look at my essay now?"

"Yeah, sure," I say.

She angles the laptop toward me, leaning over slightly so we can both see the screen. This puts her face very close to mine, close enough that I can feel her breath when she talks, can see the way her long eyelashes frame those pink eyes. Up close, her skin is flawless. Not a single blemish, just smooth pale perfection.

I force myself to read the essay. Focus on the words. The actual words. Not how pretty Selene is. Not how good she smells. Not the way I can hear her soft breathing right next to my ear.

"Okay, so you're talking about the Treaty of Versailles," I say, scrolling through the document. "But you're not really explaining why it created tension. Germany was forced to accept full blame for World War I and pay massive reparations. It destroyed their economy and created resentment that Hitler exploited to rise to power."

"Ohhhh!" Selene's eyes light up, and she bounces slightly in excitement. "So it's like, the treaty was supposed to prevent another war but actually caused one? That's so ironic!"

"Yeah, exactly," I say, "History is full of stuff like that. Good intentions, terrible outcomes."

"That's actually really interesting," Selene says, and I can hear the genuine enthusiasm in her voice. She leans closer to type on her laptop, adding notes. "Okay, so I should add more about the economic impact and the resentment..."

On my other side, Bianca makes a frustrated noise. "I still don't get this derivative shit."

"Show me which part you're stuck on."

She points at a problem, and I lean over to look. "Okay, let's think about this differently," I say, "Instead of just memorizing formulas, let's talk about what a derivative actually means..."

The next hour passes in a blur of explanations, corrections, and mounting frustration.

"Wait, I think I actually get it now," Bianca says suddenly, writing something in her notebook. "So for this one, I need to use the chain rule?"

"Yes! Exactly!" I say excitedly.

"Okay but why though?" she asks, and there goes my excitement.

I explain it again. And then again when she still looks confused.

Time passes. The explanations continue. I help Selene rewrite an entire paragraph about the Nazi rise to power. I guide Bianca through three more calculus problems. My patience is tested and tested again.

At one point, frustration starts building in my chest. We've been going over the same concept for the third time, and Bianca still isn't getting it. My exhaustion isn't helping. I can feel the irritation rising, the urge to snap—

But I stop myself.

Mr. Vale's words echo in my head. Empathy. Put yourself in their shoes.

I wouldn't want to be yelled at when I'm struggling. It wouldn't help me learn. It would just make me feel worse. And Bianca's trying, she really is. She's tired, math is genuinely hard, and some things just take time to click.

I take a breath and force the frustration down. Find another angle. Another way to explain it.

"Okay," I say, keeping my voice calm and patient. "Let's try a real-world example. Imagine you're driving a car, and the derivative is..."

Both of them pause and look at me. Really look at me.

"What?" I ask, suddenly self-conscious.

"You totally should've snapped at me by now," Bianca says, her teal eyes studying my face with an intensity that makes me want to squirm. "Like, I've been asking you the same question a million times. Why aren't you being a dick about it?"

"Bianca!" Selene gasps, but she's also looking at me curiously. "She's right though. You usually get way more frustrated with us. Not that you don't help!" she adds quickly. "You always help no matter what, but... you'd be, like, sighing and grumbling the whole time. What changed?"

I blink at them, caught off guard. "Oh... I didn't realize I was that bad before. I'm trying to be better about it. Sorry if I made you guys uncomfortable—"

"What? No," Bianca interrupts, shaking her head. "It never bothered us. You helped either way, so whatever."

"I love that you're being nicer though!" Selene says, her whole face lighting up with that radiant smile. "It's really sweet, Adam. Thanks for helping us!"

Before I can respond, Selene throws her arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug. "You're the best baby brother ever!"

I freeze. She's pressed against me fully now, her soft body molding against my side, her breasts squishing against my arm and chest. I can feel everything. The warmth, the softness, the way she fits against me. Her strawberry scent surrounds me completely, and her hair tickles my face.

My brain short-circuits.

Then Bianca joins in from the other side, wrapping her arms around me in a hug. Now I'm sandwiched between them, their soft bodies pressed against me from both sides, their scents mixing together in this overwhelming cloud that makes it hard to think. I can feel Bianca's thighs pressing against my leg, feel Selene's breath against my neck, feel the warmth radiating from both of them.

"Okay, okay," I say, my voice coming out more strained than I'd like. I put an arm around each of them, hugging back briefly before pulling away. "Let's keep working before it gets too late."

They release me, and I can breathe again. Sort of. The scents linger, and they're still pressed close against my sides, but at least the full-contact hugging has stopped.

We get back to the homework, but the atmosphere has shifted somehow. It's more relaxed now, more comfortable. Selene keeps making jokes and showing me memes on her phone. Bianca's sarcasm has a warmer edge to it. I find myself laughing more, actually enjoying this despite the exhaustion.

At one point, Selene gets distracted by something on Instagram, scrolling through her feed instead of working on her essay. I watch her for a moment, the way she bites her lip while reading, the way her eyes widen at something funny, before reaching over and gently shaking her shoulder.

"Hey. Focus."

She looks up at me, pouting. "But Adam, look at this cat video—"

"After you finish the paragraph."

"Ugh, you're so mean," she grumbles, but she's smiling as she goes back to her essay.

Later, Bianca starts drifting off, her eyes glazing over as she stares at her notebook. Her head tilts slightly, and I can see she's about to zone out completely.

I poke her side. She jerks awake, glaring at me with those teal eyes.

"I'm awake."

"No you're not."

"I'm literally looking at you right now."

"You're looking through me. Come on, just two more problems."

She narrows her eyes and suddenly lunges, trying to bite my finger. I yank my hand back just in time, laughing.

"You're feral," I tell her.

"You're annoying," she shoots back, but there's no heat in it. She's smiling, just a little.

Time passes. The homework slowly gets done. Selene's essay is polished, her arguments clear and well-supported. Bianca's calculus problems are all solved, and she actually seems to understand the concepts now.

Two hours after I first walked in, we're finally done.

I stand up and stretch, my back cracking in three different places. Every muscle in my body aches, and my eyes feel like sandpaper. "Alright, I'm about to pass out. I need sleep."

"Thanks, Adam," Selene says warmly, smiling up at me from her bed. Her pink hair is even messier now, and she looks comfortable and relaxed in a way that makes my chest feel warm.

"Yeah, thanks," Bianca adds, her tone softer than usual. She's pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them, and she looks younger somehow. Less guarded.

"Anytime," I say, and I mean it. Despite everything: the exhaustion, the distractions, the frustration, I genuinely love spending time with them. "Night, guys."

"Night!" they chorus.

I drag myself back to my room, and fall into bed face-first, consciousness leaving me before I even finish hitting the pillow.