The alarm blared at 4:00 a.m., and Vincent's eyes cracked open to pain. Every inch of his body felt wrecked—muscles burning from yesterday's madness. When he tried to sit up, his back screamed; his arms trembled as if they'd forgotten how to move.
"Brilliant," he muttered, wincing as he swung his legs off the bed. The floor felt colder than usual. "Day two, and I already feel like I've been hit by a truck."
Still, he dropped into position.
150 push-ups. 150 squats. 5km run.
It sounded easier on paper.
For some reason today, it was much harder.
By the thirtieth push-up, his shoulders felt like they were tearing apart. By the hundredth, his arms refused to obey. And yet—
I can't lose to the system. Not when I've just begun.
He gritted his teeth and pushed through the burn, sweat pouring down his temples, dripping to the floor in small, determined circles. His breath came ragged, shallow, desperate. He counted each rep out loud now, voice shaking, cursing between every set.
By the time he hit the squats, his legs felt like wet sand. The muscles behind his knees screamed every time he bent. Around the hundred-and-twentieth rep, his balance nearly gave out, and he stumbled, catching himself on the dresser.
He laughed bitterly under his breath. "Should've signed up for self-destruction, not self-improvement."
When he finally stumbled out for the 5km run, the sky was already soft gray. Dawn had broken while he was still fighting his own body.
The first few steps weren't bad. The next hundred felt like dragging weights chained to his ankles. His lungs burned. The cold morning air bit his throat.
Every breath was a battle, every stride a threat to his balance.
Passersby slowed to stare—vendors hauling produce carts, office workers heading out early, even a stray dog that tilted its head at him in silent judgment.
He caught glimpses of them through the blur of motion, faces half curious, half concerned.
"What's wrong with that guy?" someone muttered.
Vincent wheezed a laugh that sounded like dying air escaping a balloon. "Just… morning jog," he rasped, more to himself than anyone else.
By the last stretch, he wasn't running anymore—just a stumbling parody of it, dragging one foot in front of the other.
When he finally reached his door again, the sun was fully up. 7:00 a.m.
He collapsed face-first onto the floor, chest heaving, limbs twitching from overuse. The world tilted lazily around him. For a moment, he considered just staying there forever.
Time crawled.
Then, with a groan, he rolled over and whispered hoarsely, "Still got the culinary drill…"
He forced himself upright and limped into the kitchen. His joints clicked like old hinges. The familiar clatter of metal and hiss of oil greeted him, sharp and merciless.
He moved even slower and messier than yesterday—his knife work lacked rhythm, his grip uncertain. A spoon slipped from his trembling hand, clattering loudly to the floor.
He cursed. Picked it up. Tried again.
Steam fogged the air, carrying the scent of caramelized onions, herbs, and burnt patience. He burned his sleeve once, sliced his thumb twice, and nearly toppled a pan of sauce.
By the time he plated the second dish, his counter was a war zone—splashes of broth across the tiles, oil stains marking his apron like badges of battle.
He leaned on the counter, panting. His reflection on the steel pot lid looked like someone who'd aged a decade.
"Done," he whispered, barely standing.
He barely had the strength to focus as the mental simulation began. A cascade of visual patterns, time-pressured recipe decisions, and sensory overloads flooded his mind. His vision blurred; his thoughts frayed at the edges. He was seconds from passing out when—
[Mental Training Complete.]
The sound was pure relief. He exhaled sharply and nearly laughed. "Finally."
Then came the best part.
[Initiating System Sync.]
A low hum filled his body, vibrating through his bones like a soft current. Warmth spread from his chest outward, soothing the sharp edges of pain, dulling the ache that had taken root in his muscles.
It wasn't perfect—it never erased the exhaustion completely—but it left him functional.
For the first time that morning, his body didn't feel like a collapsing building.
When the sync ended, he straightened his posture and stretched, marveling at how quickly the stiffness faded.
"Now that's better."
He trudged into the shower, letting the hot water hit his skin. It felt like molten silk, washing away the sweat and tension that clung to him. The bathroom filled with steam, the only sound his slow, relieved sighs.
When he checked the clock afterward, it was 10:02 a.m.
He barely made it to bed before sleep took him.
He woke to the amber glow of early evening filtering through the curtains. His body ached dully, but it was a manageable pain now.
With a sigh, he sat up and summoned the system interface. A faint blue shimmer filled the air.
————————————
[Daily Task Set: Complete.]
[Rewards Distribution Initiated]
• +10 SEU granted.
→ SEU Balance: 55
• Restaurant Blueprint Progress: +10%
→ Unlock: Outer Walls & Structure Framework
→ Cost to Finalize: 35 SEU
→ Effect: Visible skeleton of the restaurant forms.
• Random Drop acquired → [Taste of Truth]
→ When added to any dish, compels the consumer to speak honestly for 5 minutes.
→ Cooldown: 24 hours.
————————————
A small, silver vial materialized on the table beside his bed, its liquid shimmering faintly.
Vincent blinked at the vial. "...Okay, that's new."
He picked it up, turning it over between his fingers. "So… you're telling me if someone eats food with this, they'll spill their secrets?"
[Affirmative. Duration limited to five minutes. Use wisely.]
"Five minutes is plenty," he murmured, smirking. "That's enough time to ruin someone's day."
He set it down beside his bed, still half-smiling, then frowned as his gaze flicked to the blueprint section.
"Wait, why does it say thirty-five SEU now? I thought it was twenty."
[Subsequent blueprint stages require increased SEU investment.]
"That's robbery."
[Correction: fair transaction.]
"You keep saying that like it makes it true," he muttered. "At this rate, I'll be grinding for weeks. Guess I'll have to keep working at the park, or my regulars will think I vanished."
He sighed and swiped to open his mission panel.
[Mission: Field Application — Serve a Supernatural Individual.]
Time Limit: 13 days
Reward: Combat Instinct skill unlock
Penalty: Pain Amplification Protocol — Physical pain sensitivity doubled for 48 hours.
"About this mission…" He squinted at the glowing text. "It's a prank, right?"
[No.]
"How the hell am I supposed to find a supernatural individual?"
[Host resourcefulness is part of the test.]
"You enjoy watching me suffer, don't you?"
[Observation: Accurate.]
Vincent groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "You're the worst."
He hovered his hand over the blueprint option.
[Confirmation required: Spend 35 SEU for Stage Two blueprint installation? Yes / No]
"Fine. Do it."
[Transaction complete. Congratulations, Host. Second stage of restaurant blueprint finalized.]
Progress: 10%
[You may inspect the changes on-site.]
[SEU balance: 20]
He rubbed his temples. "I swear you're bleeding me dry."
[Motivation through scarcity is effective.]
"Yeah, yeah."
He grabbed his coat and headed out.
The evening air was cool and damp, carrying the scent of wet asphalt and street food.
By the time Vincent reached his restaurant building the sun had already dipped below the skyline.
He pushed the door open. The hinges groaned—but this time, not everything inside looked broken.
He froze.
The walls… were whole.
Where there had been cracks and peeling plaster yesterday, now stood smooth, clean surfaces—freshly coated, sturdy, perfectly aligned. The warped beams above his head were gone, replaced by sleek steel supports that caught the dim light and gleamed faintly.
The floor, once rough and uneven, had leveled out—new tiling stretched from wall to wall, polished enough to reflect the light bulbs that flickered weakly overhead.
Outside, through the window frame, he could see a faint outline of scaffolding and a solid, structured shell forming around the old building—an expanded frame, matching the blueprint's "Stage Two" promise: outer walls and framework complete.
He stepped forward slowly, running his hand along the newly smooth wall. It was cold, solid—real. Not light. Not illusion.
A faint shimmer still lingered at the seams, the system's residual glow fading as the manifestation settled fully into the physical world. The air hummed with faint static, like the aftertaste of power spent.
"This…" he whispered, taking another slow look around. "This is real. It's actually here."
He stepped into the center of the floor, turning in a slow circle. The space felt larger now, taller—the new beams lifted the ceiling, and the skeletal structure hinted at the full form his dream would take.
A surge of warmth rose in his chest. He laughed quietly, shaking his head. "You've got to be kidding me… it's really happening."
The system chimed softly in response, its tone almost smug.
[Blueprint installation complete. Stage Two: Structural Reinforcement and Outer Framework — 100% materialized.]
Vincent grinned, unable to help himself. "You know," he said, "you could've warned me it'd look this damn good."
[Visual surprise increases host motivation by 47%.]
"Yeah, whatever. But I'm definitely motivated now." He walked toward the doorway, the new frame catching the light of passing cars outside. Now, it was beginning to look like a real restaurant—one that could open, one that could thrive.
He exhaled slowly, eyes tracing every rebuilt surface with a mix of awe and pride. "If this is only ten percent…" he murmured. "I can't wait to see the rest."
Outside, the night deepened; inside, a dream had gained bones.