The next morning, I awoke not to the comfort of my bed but to the cold, hard floor. The hologram flickered into existence, its light piercing the dimness of dawn.
"Daily quest: walk 5 km and learn about magic, all that in 6 hours," it announced before vanishing.
I sighed heavily, the absurdity of the situation not lost on me. With a reluctant groan, I peeled myself off the ground and shuffled into my sports clothes. Grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, I caught my mother's eye. She looked shocked to see me up so early.
"Where are you going?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. I opened my mouth to blame that fucking system, but the word 'system' wouldn't come out. It was as if it didn't exist.
"I think doing sport could be great for my health," I managed to say instead. My father appeared, his eyebrows raised in mock suspicion.
"Do you have a lover who said you were too fat?" he teased. "No," I replied curtly, and with that, I left the house.
The city in the morning was a different world. The streets, usually bustling with the cacophony of daily life, were now draped in a serene silence. The first rays of sunlight painted the buildings in hues of orange and pink, and the air was crisp, filled with the promise of a new day.
I started my walk, my steps unsteady and slow. I wasn't used to this my body felt heavy, my breaths shallow. The city watched me struggle, its towering structures casting long shadows that seemed to mock my efforts.
As I trudged along, I passed by a park where children played, their laughter a stark contrast to my labored breathing.
"Look at her, she's so slow!" one child pointed out, his finger jabbing in my direction.
"Yeah, my grandma walks faster than that!" another chimed in, and a chorus of giggles followed. I tried to ignore them, to focus on the rhythm of my steps, but their words stung.
I was weak, and they saw it. The path wound through the heart of the city, past cafes where early risers sipped their coffee and read the morning paper. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, tempting me to abandon my quest for a moment of indulgence. But I pressed on.
Four hours had passed by the time I completed the 5 kilometers. My legs ached, my throat was parched, and sweat clung to my skin. I was a mess. As I made my way back, an elderly woman on a bench watched me approach.
"Dear, you look like you've been through a war," she observed, her voice gentle yet edged with humor.
"I feel like it," I admitted, trying to muster a smile. "You'll get stronger," she assured me, her eyes twinkling with wisdom. "Just keep at it." Her words were kind, but I couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy.
The city had seen me at my worst, struggling to complete a simple task that should have been easy. When I finally returned home, my parents were waiting.
"You took your time," my mother noted, her tone soft.
"I'm not good at this," I confessed, the weight of my failure heavy on my shoulders. "But you did it even if we don't know why," my father said, a hint of pride in his voice. "That's what matters. And are you sure you you don't have a lover who told you that you were fat"
" No dad."I said too exhausted to argue. The hologram's quest had been ridiculous, but it had pushed me out of my comfort zone. And maybe, just maybe, that was a good thing.
As I collapsed onto the couch, my body crying out for rest, I realized that the city had taught me a lesson. It had shown me my limits, but it had also shown me that I could push past them.
I peeled myself off the couch, my muscles protesting after today's unexpected exertion. The hologram's voice echoed in my mind, "You did not study magic." I rolled my eyes and trudged toward the shower, letting the hot water wash away the remnants of my fatigue.
Afterward, I stood in my room, staring at the empty space on my shelf where the school manual with magic classes used to be. I had tossed it at the end of the year, declaring, "I will never use this." How wrong I had been.
With a heavy sigh, I rummaged through my drawers, searching for my library card. My fingers finally grasped the familiar plastic, and I headed out, determined to rectify my mistake.
The library stood majestically at the end of the street, its grand facade a testament to the world of knowledge housed within. Its stone walls, covered in ivy, whispered stories of the past, while the large oak doors promised adventures yet to be discovered.
I pushed open the doors with a flourish, my smile broadening as I stepped into the hallowed halls. The scent of old books filled the air, a blend of leather and paper that spoke of centuries of learning.
Rows upon rows of bookshelves stretched toward the high, arched ceiling, where a grand chandelier hung, casting a warm, inviting glow. The silence was sacred, broken only by the soft shuffle of pages turning and the occasional whisper of patrons lost in their literary worlds.
I approached the reception desk, my library card clutched tightly in my hand. "I want to borrow some books," I said cheerfully to the receptionist.
She was an old woman, her hair a soft white halo around her wrinkled face. Her eyes, sharp and bright behind thick glasses, seemed to take in everything with a single glance. She peered at me, then pointed to a poster on the wall.
My face stared back at me from the poster, with the words "Forbidden to Borrow Books" emblazoned across it. My heart sank as the old lady took my card and snipped it in half with a pair of scissors.
"You can read in the library, but since you never returned the books you borrowed, you cannot borrow others," she said, her tone harsh and final.
I stood there, stunned, as she turned her attention back to her work, dismissing me without another word. The library, once a sanctuary of escape, now felt like a courtroom where I had been judged and found wanting.
I wandered through the aisles, my fingers trailing along the spines of countless books, each one a world I longed to explore. But the joy of discovery was tainted by the knowledge that I could not take any of them home.
I settled into a corner with a book on magic, its pages filled with arcane symbols and spells that danced before my eyes. I read, trying to absorb as much as I could, but the words seemed to mock me, a reminder of my carelessness.