Morning came too fast.
I woke up with a stiff body and a sore neck from falling asleep sitting at the table. The candle had died, leaving a hardened lump of wax on the rotting wood.
I rubbed my face, trying to shake off the drowsiness still clinging to me. Morning light crept through the cracks in the shack walls, bringing with it the sounds of Orario waking up. Merchants shouting. Carts creaking. Hurried footsteps.
Life goes on, whether I have a system or not.
I glanced at the corner of my vision.
[Intimacy Energy: 0 / 100]
Still zero. Of course. I didn't do anything last night except stare at the candle flame and think in circles.
But this morning's different. This morning I have a theory, and theories need experiments.
I got up from the chair, stretching my stiff body. My joints protested, but I ignored them. I grabbed the shabby piece of cloth I called a towel and wiped my face with cold water from the bucket in the corner of the room.
The water was piercingly cold, but it woke me up.
I stared at my reflection in the rippling water surface. A young face with tired eyes. Messy dark green hair that's too long. A skinny body that hasn't fully developed yet.
Fourteen years old. Still a kid, but with a soul that's already too old.
I sighed and put on my work clothes. Faded brown cloth pants and a long-sleeved shirt that's been resewn over and over. Not good, but decent enough for work.
Because today, like any other day, I need to make money. But unlike other days, today I have an extra mission: fill that damn energy bar.
My first theory was simple. In all the games and light novels I'd ever known, energy or exp usually came from one thing: effort. Training. Hard work. Killing monsters. Completing quests.
The system might not give me a tutorial, but the basic logic should be the same, right?
If I can't get energy by just sitting around, that means I have to move. And if the keyword is "intimacy," maybe it's some kind of euphemism. Maybe this system just uses odd terms for something that's actually simple.
Maybe I just need to work harder?
That made sense, at least to my brain still trying to grasp the rules of this world. So I decided to try it.
The logistics area near Orario's West Gate isn't a glamorous place.
No fancy armed adventurers here. No big familias with shiny emblems. Just rough laborers, lower-class merchants, and rows of large caravans hauling goods from Meren's direction.
I'd worked here a few times before. Odd jobs that paid barely enough, but better than stealing or begging. Lift crates, move sacks, clean cart beds.
Bossman knew I wasn't a regular worker, but he also knew I never stole or caused trouble. In Orario, a reputation like that's worth more than it looks.
That morning, I met with Bossman. A pot-bellied foreman with a face that's always sweating even in cold weather.
"Kaizer, right?" He glanced at me with one raised eyebrow, his thick fingers tapping on his clipboard. "You rarely come two days in a row. Usually you only show up when you're really desperate."
There was a note of curiosity in his voice, not suspicion. More like someone who noticed the pattern changing and wanted to know why.
"What changed?"
"Need money," I answered shortly.
Not entirely a lie.
He chuckled, a rumbling sound coming from his broad chest. "Who doesn't? But you know, kid, I've told you before, if you want steady work, there's a spot here. You're diligent once you start, not like some losers who run off after getting drinking money."
He looked at me for a moment, as if weighing something. "You're too smart for a place like this, but too stubborn to ask any familia for help. I don't know your story, and I don't care. But don't waste your brain just because of stupid pride."
His words cut deeper than I expected, but I just nodded.
Bossman was always like this. Rough but caring in his own way. Maybe because he once had a kid who ran off to the dungeon and never came back. Maybe that's why he was always softer on kids who looked lost.
"Alright," he continued, pointing to the loading area. "Three big caravans need unloading today. You can start with the leftmost cart. Pay's the same as usual. But if you want extra work, there's a fourth caravan coming this afternoon."
I nodded and moved immediately before he changed his mind.
The first sack was heavier than I remembered.
I bent down, wrapped my arms underneath it, and lifted with a push from my legs. The rough fibers of the sack immediately bit into my shoulder, a sandpaper-like texture scraping every time I took a step.
Heavy. Too heavy.
But I'd already lifted it, so I kept walking, one step, two steps, toward the warehouse at the end of the yard.
This is just the first sack, I thought while feeling my back muscles tense up.
If this fills energy, I should see results later.
I set the sack down carefully, or at least tried to, but my hands were already starting to shake and the sack fell with a thud louder than I wanted.
I glanced at the corner of my vision.
[Intimacy Energy: 0 / 100]
No change.
But maybe it needs more than one sack, right? Maybe this system has a threshold, like RPG games that only give exp after you kill ten goblins, not one.
I sighed, wiped the sweat on my forehead with the back of my hand, and turned to grab the second sack.
Second sack. Third. Fourth.
Every time I lifted, I felt the weight getting heavier. Not because the sacks were getting heavier, but because my body was starting to give out. The rough fibers had already scraped the skin on my shoulder raw, leaving a burning sensation that wouldn't go away.
My hands started to blister, the thin skin on my palms tearing in several spots, wet and red, stinging every time I gripped.
Five sacks. Still zero.
Maybe ten?
I kept moving, my muscles screaming in protest every time I bent down to grab the next sack. My back started to throb. A dull ache that spread from my shoulder blades down to my waist, like something twisting from inside.
My legs shook every time I squatted, knees almost giving out.
But I didn't stop.
Ten sacks. Still zero.
Sweat ran down my temples, soaking my shirt until the fabric stuck to my back. Ragged breaths escaped from my parched throat. Every breath felt like swallowing sand.
I glanced again.
[Intimacy Energy: 0 / 100]
Why isn't it changing?
I lifted the eleventh sack with movements that were no longer coordinated. More like dragging than lifting. The rough fibers bit deeper, my already raw shoulder now felt like it was burning every time the sack shifted.
I walked on trembling legs, almost tripping halfway.
This should work. This should...
But there was no change. That energy bar stayed at zero, not moving, not caring how hard I worked.
Frustration started to creep in, or maybe it was just exhaustion making me emotional. I couldn't tell anymore.
Two hours passed. Three hours. The sun climbed high, its heat starting to scorch skin that was already raw, already drenched in sweat, now made worse by unforgiving rays.
Every movement felt like torture. Every sack felt like lifting a small mountain.
But I kept glancing.
Kept hoping.
Kept thinking that maybe, just maybe, the next sack would change something.
[Intimacy Energy: 0 / 100]
Still zero.
When lunch break came, I almost collapsed on the spot.
My body was shaking. Not normal shaking, but tremors I couldn't stop, like my body itself was rebelling against my brain forcing it to keep moving.
I dropped myself to the ground under the shade of a worn tent, not caring if the ground was dirty or dusty.
Bossman approached with a bottle of water and a piece of hard bread.
"You look like the walking dead," he commented while shaking his head, a vague concern behind his rough tone. "Don't push yourself, kid. You're still young. Your body's not as strong as an adult laborer's. If you collapse, I'm the one who has to haul you to a healer, and that's expensive."
I just nodded weakly, too tired to answer. My hand trembled as I took the water bottle. My fingers were stiff, hard to move, every joint felt rusted.
I drank the water until it was gone, feeling my dry throat finally get some relief, then grabbed the hard bread and ate it slowly.
The bread was hard and tasteless, but I didn't care. I just wanted to fill my empty stomach, trying to give a little energy to a body that had almost given up.
And while chewing, I glanced again. A reflex that had become a habit today.
[Intimacy Energy: 0 / 100]
Zero.
Still zero.
Why?
I'd worked hard. I'd sweated, felt my muscles screaming in protest, felt the skin on my shoulder scrape raw and my hands blister.
Wasn't this enough? Isn't this what "effort" means?
But there was no change. Absolutely nothing.
And here, in the middle of this crushing exhaustion, while feeling every throb of pain in my body, I started to realize something that turned my frustration into something colder, more bitter.
Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this system doesn't care how hard I work alone.
Maybe "intimacy" really means what it says.
And if that's the case, I don't even know where to start.
That afternoon, I finished work with a body I could barely control.
Bossman gave me my wages. A few small valis coins that weren't even enough for a good meal. I accepted them with trembling hands, my fingers stiff as I reached for the coins, and said thank you in a hoarse voice.
He looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Maybe worried, maybe pitying, or maybe just tired of watching a stupid kid destroy his own body.
I turned and started walking home.
Every step felt heavy. My legs felt like they were filled with lead, every movement made my knees and ankles throb with pain. My back pulsed with a constant rhythm. A metronome reminding me how fragile this body is.
My hands still trembled, small blisters stinging every time they brushed against my pants fabric, a small burning sensation that wouldn't stop.
Orario in the afternoon was bustling. People passing by, laughing, chatting.
Life goes on.
And me? I was just a shadow walking on the side of the road, dragged along by a body nearly giving up, ignored by everyone.
As I passed the main street, I saw them.
Loki Familia.
A group of elite adventurers with gleaming armor and expensive-looking weapons. They walked confidently, their steps light and full of energy. A painful contrast to my dragging steps.
Among them, I saw a familiar figure. Ais Wallenstein. Golden hair shining in the afternoon sun, a cool but beautiful face, the rapier at her waist looking so natural, as if it was part of her body.
Level 6. Sword Princess.
A living legend.
I stopped walking, standing at the edge of the road while watching them pass. My body still throbbed with pain, my hands still trembled, but I couldn't look away.
The distance between us was so wide. Like heaven and earth, like gods and humans.
No, even farther than that, because at least ordinary humans still have a chance to receive a god's blessing.
Me?
I don't even know if I have a chance for anything.
My chest felt tight as they disappeared around the corner. Not because of jealousy, or maybe it was, but not just that. This was about a painful realization, an awareness that became clearer as my body broke down today.
That I'm not special, that this world isn't waiting for me, that I'm just an ordinary teenager with a system that might be broken, in a world full of people far stronger.
I looked down, staring at the dusty ground beneath my trembling feet.
"Intimacy, huh?" I muttered bitterly, a hoarse voice that barely came out.
How can I get "intimacy" when I'm not even visible to this world?
That night, I lay on the straw mattress with a body that couldn't stop throbbing with pain.
I stared at the cracked wooden ceiling, my mind spinning even though my body demanded rest.
First theory failed. Physical hard work doesn't fill energy, which means this system isn't about training or regular grinding.
I need to rethink.
The word "intimacy" kept echoing in my head. Closeness, connection, relationships.
Maybe I was wrong from the start. Maybe this isn't about working hard alone, but about other people.
That thought made me uncomfortable, because if it's true, it means I have to leave my comfort zone. I have to talk to people, I have to open up, and I don't know how.
I've been alone for too long.
But when I closed my eyes, one image appeared in my mind. An old adventurer I'd seen in a shabby pub a few weeks ago. He sat alone, drunk, crying in silence.
No one approached him. No one cared.
And I didn't do anything then either.
Maybe tomorrow, I need to try something different.
Maybe I need to stop focusing on myself.
And start seeing other people.