Asher decided—very reasonably—that today was a no-dungeon day.
This decision was based on three factors:
One: his legs still felt like they had opinions about gravity.
Two: his couch had developed a concerning emotional bond with his spine.
Three: Maya worked today.
Which meant normal life was happening whether he was ready for it or not.
He stood behind the counter at the store, scanning items with the focused intensity of a man who absolutely did not want to think about oscillating bridges or physics-based bullying.
Be normal, he told himself. Scan the things. Say the words.
"Receipt?" he said.
The customer nodded.
Asher handed it over.
Nothing exploded.
Progress.
Maya leaned against the counter nearby, sipping coffee and watching him with narrowed eyes.
"You're standing differently," she said.
Asher froze.
"…Differently how?"
She tilted her head. "Like you're bracing for something. Or like you're on a boat."
Asher glanced down at his feet.
"…I've been stretching."
"Uh-huh."
She took another sip.
"You also didn't flinch when that kid dropped a crate earlier."
Asher blinked. "I flinch."
"No," she said flatly. "You used to flinch. Today you just… adjusted."
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"…I've been working on posture."
Maya stared at him.
"…Asher."
"Yes?"
"You work at a convenience store."
"Yes."
"Your posture did not suddenly evolve."
He smiled weakly.
"…Well, when you say it like that."
The bell over the door jingled.
A delivery truck rumbled outside, backing up too fast.
Asher looked up just in time to see a stack of bottled water topple from a dolly.
Time slowed.
The crates fell.
Maya yelped and jumped back.
Asher moved.
Not fast.
Not flashy.
Just… right.
He stepped forward, caught the first crate on his shoulder, redirected the weight across his back, and nudged the second crate with his hip so it slid instead of slammed.
The bottles clattered to the ground harmlessly.
No spill.
No crash.
Silence followed.
Asher straightened, heart pounding.
"…Huh," he said.
Maya stared at him.
Not shocked.
Not screaming.
Just… staring.
"…How," she said slowly, "did you just do that?"
Asher opened his mouth.
His brain provided several options.
All of them were bad.
"…Momentum is a suggestion?" he tried.
Maya did not blink.
"Try again."
He sighed.
"…I've been working out."
She glanced at his arms.
Then at his hoodie.
Then back at his face.
"…Where."
"As in—"
"Where did you work out," she repeated. "Because unless the stockroom gained gravity training overnight, that doesn't explain anything."
Asher felt the system's attention brush against his thoughts.
No.
Do not say anything.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"…I tripped a lot."
Maya snorted. "That would explain the opposite of what I just saw."
The delivery driver cleared his throat awkwardly and finished stacking the crates.
Asher scanned the receipt, hands steady.
Maya leaned closer.
"Okay," she said quietly. "I'm not saying you're hiding something."
Asher winced.
"But," she continued, "you are definitely hiding something."
He met her eyes.
"…Can I plead 'temporary weirdness'?"
She considered that.
"…For now," she said. "But I'm watching you."
The shift continued.
Mostly normal.
Mostly.
Asher reached for items without knocking them over. Adjusted to sudden movements without reacting. Caught a falling candy bar without looking.
Each time, Maya noticed.
Each time, she said nothing.
That was worse.
After closing, they locked up together. The parking lot was dim, quiet.
Maya stretched and yawned.
"You walking home?"
Asher nodded. "Yeah."
She studied him one more time.
"…Don't disappear tonight."
He froze.
"Not like," she added quickly, "vanish vanish. Just—don't go doing whatever that was until you've slept."
Asher swallowed.
"…I'll be careful."
She snorted. "That's not reassuring."
They parted ways.
Asher walked home slowly, senses alert in a way they hadn't been a week ago.
Not paranoid.
Aware.
Inside his apartment, he dropped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling.
"…She almost caught me."
A system window appeared.
[Notice]
External observation risk increased.
Asher sighed.
"I know."
[Recommendation]
Exercise discretion.
"Working on it."
He closed his eyes.
For the first time, the danger wasn't in the dungeon.
It was in being noticed.
Somewhere deep inside Heaven's Heart, the calculation updated.
And for the first time—
The system considered someone else.