I approach the jacket from behind, from the left side, then the right. I steal the phone with my right hand, then my left. I shift the chair into different angles, testing approaches I might use in the real world.
During one attempt, I get a bit too confident and try to speed things up. Bad idea. I fumble it. The phone catches on the fabric, and there's a distinct pull on the jacket that a real person would definitely notice. Okay, lesson learned: slow and smooth beats fast and sloppy every single time. It's like the tortoise and the hare, except the hare gets arrested for petty theft.
After what feels like hours of this repetitive practice, my fingers start cramping and my brain feels like it's been put through a blender. I guess that's all the pickpocketing training I'll get for today, I lament to myself, flexing my sore hands.
Well, might as well get some exercise in.
I drop to the floor and begin what I'm pretty sure qualifies as the most intensive workout of my life. I find my backpack, stuff it with a few textbooks and notebooks (finally, a practical use for my English homework), and start cranking out push-ups. Normal push-ups have started feeling way too easy, so I'm looking for more of a challenge. I cycle through variations: standard push-ups and wide-grip push-ups for my chest, close-grip push-ups for my triceps, and even some awkward reverse-grip push-up attempts for my biceps.
I finish twenty normal push-ups, then take off my backpack and place it against my chest before starting crunches.
No rest between workouts today. I'm feeling determined.
After thirty crunches, I strap the backpack on again and pump out thirty squats. Then it's back to chest work: twenty wide-grip push-ups. My chest and arms already feel fairly well-rested, and it's times like this where my optimized body feels... kind of scary, honestly, it's like I'm playing with cheat codes enabled. I also feel weirdly guilty that I haven't been making full use of it.
My workout continues in this masochistic fashion. Ten close-grip pushups, twelve reverse-grip pushups that make my arms want to file a formal complaint. Ten leg raises that have my abs screaming. A minute-long weighted plank that feels like an eternity. Fifty jumping jacks, twenty calf raises. Then I do it all over again.
And again.
And again.
I don't even pay attention to the sets anymore. I'll stop when I'm exhausted, simple as that. Unfortunately, my brilliant idea of taking no breaks proves impossible to accomplish, there are times when I'm so winded that I'm forced to sit down while my lungs stage a protest. And about six sets in, my muscles finally start getting fatigued, even with the immense recovery boost that my optimized body gives me.
Good.
I drag myself to the shower, and the hot water feels like heaven on my tortured muscles. Then I stumble to bed like a zombie and fall asleep the moment my head hits the pillow.
Ding! You've completed the quest: Daily Routine
Rewards:
3 Evolution Points
For the first time since I received my physical enhancement, I actually feel sore when I wake up. It's incredibly slight, just a faint ache when I flex my bicep, but it's there. I smile to myself. It's a good sign that I'm finally working out properly again, pushing my enhanced body to its actual limits.
I leap from my bed with way too much enthusiasm for someone who just tortured themselves last night, and immediately jump into pickpocketing practice.
The rest of my morning passes in a blur of productive monotony. Another intensive workout that leaves me painfully exhausted, followed by the rest of my morning routine. Shower, skincare, getting dressed, and making breakfast.
Then, I head out a bit early, making my way to a nearby mall. The place is already buzzing with weekend shoppers, and I weave through the crowd until I find an electronics store. Twenty minutes later, I'm the proud owner of a fifty-dollar prepaid flip phone. It's crazy that they still make these things, it feels like an ancient artifact. But hey, for what I need it for, it's perfect.
Then it's off to work at the Midnight Café, and my shift passes without too much trouble.
Finally, I get home and the smell of dinner hits me immediately: Mom's made pasta, and it smells incredible. I slide into my seat at the table, and the conversation is already in full swing around me.
Selene's talking enthusiastically about some really cute outfit she saw on sale, something with lace and strategic cutouts. Bianca's discussing how one of her friends is making their own manga, complete with a surprisingly detailed critique of their panel composition. Mom's gushing about another romance novel she's reading, something involving a werewolf and a university student, and their romantic (?) life together.
I'm mechanically twirling pasta onto my fork, only half-listening. My brain is running through Monday's plan on an endless loop.
"So what should we do for family time tonight?" Mom asks, looking around the table with that warm smile of hers.
"Ooh! Ooh! What about karaoke?" Selene bounces slightly in her seat. "We haven't done that in forever!"
"I'm down for whatever," Bianca says with a shrug.
"That sounds lovely." Mom turns to me. "Adam? What do you think?"
"Huh?" I blink, pulled out of my reverie. "Oh, uh... actually, I can't tonight. Sorry. I've got... stuff to do."
The temperature at the table drops about ten degrees.
Mom tilts her head, and there's this look on her face: half amused, half concerned. "Stuff to do? What kind of stuff?"
"Just... stuff." I'm winning awards for eloquence over here. "Sorry."
Mom studies my face for a moment, and I can see her deciding whether to push the issue. Finally, she just smiles gently. "Alright, that's fine. But next week you're joining us, okay? No excuses."
"Uh..." She fixes me with those beautiful emerald eyes, and I find myself caving like a poorly built sandcastle. "Yeah, okay. Next week for sure."
"Good boy," she says warmly, and I'm simultaneously comforted and embarrassed by the praise.
I can feel my sisters' eyes boring into the side of my head. And I suddenly find my pasta absolutely fascinating, studying those individual noodles like they contain the secrets of the universe.
After dinner, I make a strategic retreat to my room. I'm about to close the door and return to my life of crime-in-training when Bianca's hand shoots out and catches it.
"Let me in."
It's not a request.
"Uh, sure, what's—"
She's already walking into my room. A second later, Selene appears behind her like a pink-haired shadow.
Great. An intervention. Just what I needed.
Bianca walks right up to me, way too close for comfort, and just... stares. Those teal eyes are doing a full-system diagnostic on my soul.
"Okay, what's going on with you?" she asks bluntly.
"Nothing's going on—"
"Bull. Shit." Bianca crosses her arms. "You never skip family time. Ever. We could be watching paint dry and you'd show up with popcorn."
"Yeah!" Selene chimes in, her usual cheerfulness replaced with genuine worry. "You've been acting super weird! What's wrong?!"
Before I can formulate a response, Bianca grabs my arm and maneuvers me to sit on my bed. She sits down next to me. Selene immediately claims my other side.
I'm trapped. This is a tactical sister ambush.
"Look," Bianca says, her voice softer now. "We're not trying to be annoying. We're worried about you."
"Super worried!" Selene adds, and then she holds up an invisible microphone to my face. "So spill! Tell us everything! Don't leave out a single detail!"
I feel this weird mix of emotions. Part of me wants to tell them everything: about Luna, about Jack's threats, about this insane plan I've concocted. But another part of me just... can't.
To be honest, there's a chance, a small one, but still a chance, that my sisters might actually be able to help me in this situation. They're friends with Elize and Luke, who are basically the only people Jack actually fears.
But the whole idea just feels... wrong. Asking my sisters to beg their friends for help? For my sake? I hate that idea. And realistically, would Elize or Luke even care? They're all in the same social circle. If they were going to do something about Jack's bullying, they probably would have already. It's not like Jack's being subtle.
If things get truly desperate, if I run out of options, then maybe I'll ask them for help. But for now, I want to handle this myself.
"It's just..." I struggle to find the right words. "It's not something I can talk about right now. I'm sorry."
"Hmm." Bianca's eyes narrow, clearly not buying it.
Then, without warning, she pulls me into a hug.
I freeze for a second… Bianca doesn't typically initiate hugs. But she's warm and soft and smells like cherries, and—
"Group hug!" Selene squeals, throwing her arms around both of us from the other side.
And just like that, I'm trapped in a sister hug sandwich. They're so soft and warm, and I can smell Bianca's cherry-sweet scent mixing with whatever strawberry body spray Selene uses. I love my sisters. I hug them back.
"Just..." Bianca's voice is muffled against my shoulder. "if shit gets bad, tell us. Okay? Don't try to deal with everything by yourself, dumbass."
"Yeah!" Selene squeezes tighter. "We're always here for you! Always always!"
Something warm settles in my chest, pushing back against the anxiety about Jack. "I know. Thanks, guys. I'm really lucky to have you two."
We stay like that for another moment before they finally release me. Bianca ruffles my hair as she stands up, and Selene gives me a playful punch on my shoulder.
Before leaving my room, they both turn and smile at me. Selene's smile is bright and energetic, while Bianca's is small and slightly sarcastic. Then they're gone, and I can hear them going downstairs, Selene already belting out the opening notes of some pop song, warming up for karaoke.
I smile despite myself and close my door.
Two hours later, my fingers are officially on strike from pickpocket practice. Three hours after that, my entire body has joined the rebellion after another intense workout session.
Ding! Your Strength has increased by 1
Ding! Your Dexterity has increased by 1
Ding! Your Endurance has increased by 1
Sweet. The stat increases never get old.
I collapse into bed.
Nothing particularly noteworthy happens on Sunday.
I train. I upload a very loud, obnoxious ringtone to the prepaid phone, something that sounds like an alarm clock having angry sex with a car horn. Then I train some more.
And now it's Monday morning.
I'm walking through Fairchild's hallways with my hood up, doing my best impression of a completely average, forgettable student. Just another teenager scrolling through his phone, waiting for class to start. Nothing to see here.
I'm on the path that Jack takes to his first class, and at the opposite side of the hallway to his locker. I bend down, pretending to tie my shoelace. In one smooth motion, I slip the prepaid phone from my pocket and tuck it into the shadow at the base of a locker. It's practically invisible unless you're looking for it.
Phase one complete.
I straighten up and move to a locker nearer to Jack's, leaning against it casually while keeping both Jack's locker and the hidden phone in my peripheral vision. My own phone is out, and I'm scrolling through it like I'm checking social media. To anyone watching, I'm just another student killing time before class, waiting in the hallway. I can see several other students doing the exact same thing, which makes my cover even more believable.
Perfect camouflage: be so boring that you're invisible.
After a few minutes, Jack and his buddies round the corner, heading toward his locker. I tune in to their conversation out of habit.
"—no way, man. That highlight reel was insane," one of his friends is saying.
"Right? That quarterback is going pro for sure," Jack responds, actually sounding like a normal person for once. "Did you see that throw in the third quarter?"
They're talking about football. There are no crude jokes, no gross comments about girls, no bullying stories. It's almost unsettling seeing Jack act like a regular human being.
Even assholes have their mundane moments, I guess.
Jack reaches his locker and starts spinning the combination. I watch his jacket carefully. And there, left pocket. The outline of his phone is visible through the fabric.
Target acquired.
I glance down at my phone to check the time. Just a few minutes until the first bell. The hallway is getting more crowded as students converge for the start of school, which is both good and bad. Good for cover, bad for maneuvering.
My heart starts doing its best impression of a death metal drum solo. My palms are getting sweaty. Holy shit, I'm really nervous. Like, genuinely, butterflies-in-stomach, what-the-hell-am-I-doing nervous.
Deep breaths. Okay, okay. On the bright side, if you can call it that, even if I get caught, unless my hand is literally inside his pocket holding his phone, I can probably talk my way out of it. "Sorry bro, didn't see you there, my bad for bumping into you!" Just play the clumsy idiot. It wouldn't even be that much of a stretch.
I check my phone again. Three minutes until the bell.
This is it. No more stalling, no more second-guessing.
Time to get the show on the road.