Travis arrived back home to find Debbie lounging in the living room, engrossed in her show. Not wanting to interrupt her quality TV time, he quietly headed upstairs and changed into workout clothes. He checked his stash of cash, counting it carefully, and nodded in satisfaction.
'Alright, good. Honestly, I need to hurry. I need some pussy ASAP!' he thought, a grin creeping onto his face.
...
The next morning, Travis woke up on the grass lawn, his skin uncomfortably prickling against the rough surface. However, the growling in his stomach took precedence over everything else.
"I'm so hungry," he thought, glancing around.
Last night, he had vomited more than five times, having pushed himself to his limits. Water had been the only thing he relied on to recover. He trudged inside the house and went straight to the kitchen. Grabbing a gigantic bowl, he filled it with cereal and milk, finishing it in under 40 seconds. Still craving something savory, he opened the fridge and pulled out some eggs.
He took out a pan, added a generous dollop of butter, and turned on the stove.
Travis cracked about eight eggs into a bowl, mixing them vigorously until they were a bright yellow. He poured the mixture into the pan, whisking until the eggs were perfectly scrambled. Sprinkling some salt, he gazed at the sizzling food with hunger-filled eyes.
Next, he took several slices of bread and tossed them into the pan. He plopped down on a stool, relishing his meal with a glass of perfectly chilled orange juice on the side. Every bite was heavenly. When he finally finished, he leaned back and smiled.
"I'm back to normal. Now I just have to clean up this mess," he thought, surveying the aftermath of his cooking frenzy. Being a person of discipline, Travis didn't complain; he simply got to work tidying up.
Debbie entered the kitchen and did a double take at how clean everything looked. A smile spread across her face.
"Well, you certainly did my job better than I could ever do it," she remarked.
"You think? Maybe I might just run you out of business," Travis shot back with a smirk.
Debbie laughed at his response, and he stared at her, anticipating her reply.
"I wouldn't mind that, honestly," she said, her expression playful.
He chuckled along, and as Debbie waited for his next words, he smiled and simply said, "No."
Debbie began making breakfast, and despite feeling slightly nauseous from all the food he'd already eaten, Travis decided to help. The sight of more food churned his stomach, but he powered through. Once they finished, Travis headed upstairs and took a hot, steaming bath, the heat easing his muscles.
As he relaxed, the Template's percentage suddenly flashed in front of him, causing a smile to tug at his lips. He felt undeniably stronger today.
『Saitama Template 「%」』
After his bath, Travis got dressed. Today, he planned on completing Ms. Bissette's other assignments. He also remembered he was to help Ms. DeWitt with her club room. So he packed a change of clothes. His keyboard had already arrived at school, so he had nothing to worry about.
Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he went downstairs, where he saw Jenny asking Debbie for some money. Not interested in their conversation, he kept moving, knowing it wasn't worth his time.
He left the house and started on his way to school. Along the way, he ran into Erik.
"Hey, you said you'd help me with my cards, remember?" Erik asked, reminding him of the promise.
Travis blinked, momentarily shocked. "Shit, I totally forgot! Alright, let's head inside, and I'll help you out. We've got plenty of time to spare anyway," he said.
They went inside Erik's house, and Travis took a moment to admire the nicely decorated interior. After thinking for a second, he remembered the cards were downstairs in his father's man cave.
Travis headed there, finding the cards tucked away in a drawer in the living room. He brought the box of cards upstairs to Erik, whose face lit up with pure joy.
"Bro! How did you find them? Eh, doesn't matter—thanks, man!" Erik exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement.
Travis smiled. "It's nothing, gee. Let's hurry up before Mrs. Smith starts losing it," he said.
They left for school, arriving a few minutes early. Settling into the classroom, Travis and Erik started talking about Erik's strange Orc game, filling the time with their usual banter.
A few minutes later, the classroom was packed, every seat filled. Travis noticed Lopez and Martinez casting glances his way, their eyes lingering on him longer than usual. He smirked, throwing a playful wink in their direction.
'They'll play their part in today's assignment,' he thought, amusement flickering in his eyes. 'After that, I'll just forget about them.'
Ms. Bissette entered, starting the day by calling roll, her voice clear and authoritative. Once attendance was done, the class officially began. Travis, however, stayed behind after the lesson ended, intending to speak with Ms. Bissette about the assignments. Just as he was about to approach her, Mrs. Smith walked in, cutting the moment short.
Mrs. Smith stormed into the room, her face already twisted in irritation. She didn't waste any time before launching into her rant.
"This is unacceptable, Bissette! Every semester, the grades in your class keep dropping. It's been nothing but a downward spiral!" Mrs. Smith's voice was sharp, filled with frustration. She stood in the center of the room, arms crossed, glaring at Ms. Bissette as if daring her to argue.
Ms. Bissette, visibly uncomfortable but maintaining her composure, tried to defend herself. "I understand your concerns, Mrs. Smith, but I assure you, I'm doing everything I can. The curriculum is challenging, yes, but it's not entirely my fault the students are struggling. Some of them need extra support outside the classroom. I've already planned extra classes to help them catch up—"
Mrs. Smith cut her off, shaking her head in disbelief. "Extra classes? That's your solution? Extra classes should've been happening from the start!" Her tone turned icy. "And frankly, Bissette, I'm starting to wonder if you're even capable of doing your job here. After all, you're only in this country because of your position at this school."
Ms. Bissette's face tightened, her fists clenched by her sides. The threat was clear, and the anger in her eyes was barely contained.
Mrs. Smith leaned in, lowering her voice but making sure every word hit like a dagger. "I can have you deported back to France if this doesn't turn around. Tomorrow, I want to see real progress from your students, or I'll have no choice but to report this to the administration. And they won't hesitate to revoke your work visa."
Ms. Bissette bit the inside of her cheek, the frustration boiling inside her. She wanted to snap, to shout, but she knew she couldn't. Her job—and her place here—was on the line. Finally, she nodded stiffly, her voice strained with suppressed anger.
"You'll see the progress, Mrs. Smith. I'll make sure of it."
Mrs. Smith gave a final, disdainful look before turning on her heel, and as she turned to leave, she cast a lingering smirk at Travis, her eyes narrowing in a way that sent an unsettling chill down his spine.