I collapsed onto the ground, my legs trembling uncontrollably after running 30 laps. My lungs burned, and my chest heaved with every breath, sweat dripping down my face and soaking through my uniform. The midday sun bore down mercilessly, making the already unbearable physical exertion feel like pure torture.
Leonardo, standing a short distance away, glanced back at me. His expression was as unreadable as ever—calm, collected, and annoyingly unaffected by the grueling punishment. He had been intent on making me run 50 laps out of sheer spite for reasons only he understood, but seeing that I could barely move anymore, he finally relented.
"You're done for now," he said with a hint of impatience. "Rest."
And with that, he returned to his own task: completing his self-imposed 100 laps.
