Charlie sat cross-legged on his basement floor, his laptop humming faintly in front of him. Beside him, a crumpled notebook page was covered in messy scrawls—his hasty attempt at budgeting.
"Alright," he muttered, opening his wallet and spilling its contents onto the floor. Bills and coins clinked together, forming a small, underwhelming pile.
Charlie counted the cash carefully, frowning as he tallied up the total.
"$126," he said, leaning back with a sigh. "Great. Barely enough for one protein shake at this rate."
The System's voice chimed in his head, calm and unrelenting:
"Begin shopping. Protein powder, gym membership, resistance bands, and dumbbells are essential for progress."
Charlie groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly swimming in cash here."
Ignoring the System's silence, Charlie opened a few tabs on his browser and started searching for prices.
---
Protein Powder: $40
"Forty bucks for powder?!" he exclaimed, staring at the screen. "What, does it have gold in it?"
Resistance Bands: $20
"Okay, not bad," he mumbled, scribbling the price in his notebook. "Still expensive, though."
Dumbbells: $50
Charlie frowned. "Why do they cost so much? They're just... heavy lumps of metal!"
Gym Membership: $10/month
"Well, that's something I can afford. Barely."
---
By the time he finished researching, Charlie's notebook was a mess of crossed-out numbers and frustrated doodles. He leaned back, closing his eyes.
"$126," he muttered again. "That's not gonna cut it, is it?"
The System chimed in.
"You have the 100 for making dinner the other day Charlie."
The System chimed in, breaking Charlie's grumbling.
"You have the $100 reward for making dinner the other day, Charlie."
Charlie blinked, then smacked his forehead. "Oh, right! I forgot about that. Hehe…"
He quickly recalculated, scribbling numbers in his notebook with renewed energy. "Okay, that gives me $226."
Scrolling through his browser, he stumbled upon a gym nearby. It was more expensive than the first one he'd considered, but it had a sauna and better equipment.
"With this, I could get three months instead of one," Charlie muttered. He paused, staring at the glowing screen. "Three months of going to the gym…"
The idea felt foreign, almost laughable. Charlie Finch, the guy who avoided stairs and got winded walking to the fridge, committing to three months of workouts?
He sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the decision settling on him.
"Am I really going to do this?" he whispered to himself.
Charlie took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "Alright," he said, a small, tentative smile forming on his face. "I'll go."
He clenched his fists, nodding to himself. "And I'll ignore everyone. I don't care what they think. I've got you, System. Guide me... like you always do."
For the first time in what felt like forever, Charlie smiled with genuine determination.
---
Charlie spent the afternoon running errands with his dad. Together, they loaded up the car with protein powder, resistance bands, and a few other essentials. His dad watched him the entire time, his expression unreadable but tinged with astonishment.
When Charlie had first asked for help, his father had assumed it was just another grocery run. But this? Watching his son haul workout equipment into the car like he was preparing for boot camp? This was... unexpected.
What is going on? his dad thought, gripping the steering wheel as they drove. When he said he was going to buy some things, I thought he meant snacks. Junk food. But this?
As they pulled into the driveway, his father couldn't hold back his thoughts any longer. "Charlie—"
"Right here, Dad," Charlie interrupted, pointing toward the gym. "Leave the stuff in the basement home, except for the protein powder. Leave that in the kitchen."
His dad hesitated, still holding the resistance bands in one hand. He glanced down at the label on the protein container, then back at his son.
"Are you... really my son?" he muttered under his breath, too quiet for Charlie to hear.
Then his eyes drifted past Charlie to the name of the gym printed on the sign behind him, bold letters gleaming in the sunlight.
What in God's name is happening here?
He opened his mouth to ask the question burning in his mind. "Son—"
"Bye, Dad!" Charlie cut him off with a quick wave, already heading toward the gym entrance.
His dad stood there, frozen, watching his son disappear through the doors. The resistance bands still dangled limply in his hand as confusion and astonishment warred on his face
As Charlie's dad drove home, the question lingered on the tip of his tongue: Where did he get the money for all this? But he swallowed it. There was something about the determination in Charlie's eyes that made him hold back.
Still, the astonishment wouldn't leave him. His son—his son—was going to a gym. A gym with "Muscle Macho" plastered on the sign in bold, aggressive letters. It felt surreal, like stepping into an alternate reality.
Shaking his head, he decided to let it go, at least for now. He'd head home, rest, and prepare dinner since he'd managed to get off work early for once. But the sight of Charlie walking toward the gym doors would replay in his mind all evening.
---
At the Gym
Charlie walked into the gym, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack tightly. The air was thick with the smell of sweat and rubber mats. He glanced around nervously, his heart pounding. This was way out of his comfort zone.
At the counter stood a brown-haired girl, scrolling through her phone. She looked up when he approached, her polite smile faltering for just a second as she took in his appearance. Charlie's sweat-streaked face and heavy breathing told her everything she needed to know: This guy's going to quit in a week.
"Hello! Welcome to Muscle Macho Gym! How can I help you?" she said, forcing her professional smile back in place.
Charlie cleared his throat. "I'd like the three-month offer, please."
"Good, good," she said, pulling up the registration form. "May I see some ID?"
He handed her his card, his hand slightly shaking. She worked quickly, barely looking at him as she typed in the details. Once the process was done, she glanced at him again, her smile tight.
"Did you bring a towel?" she asked.
Charlie blinked. "Ah, no. Do I have to bring one?"
Her polite mask almost cracked, but she held it together. "Umm, yes," she said, her voice overly sweet. "It's because people... sweat a lot here. Haha."
Charlie winced. "Oh, I see."
He ended up buying a towel from the gym, handing over more of his precious cash. The clerk rang him up quickly, sneaking another glance at him as he shuffled off toward the lockers.
Charlie entered the gym floor, towel slung awkwardly over his shoulder. The machines gleamed under the fluorescent lights, and the clanging of weights echoed around him. He tried not to look at anyone as he made his way to an empty corner.
Okay, System, he thought, gripping his towel tightly. What's the plan? I'm ready.
The familiar chime sounded in his mind, and a translucent screen appeared before him, displaying his workout plan:
---
Workout Plan - Day 1
1. Warm-up: Walk on the treadmill for 10 minutes.
2. Strength: Resistance band exercises (arms and legs).
3. Core: Beginner planks (3 x 20 seconds).
4. Cooldown: Stretching routine.
---
Charlie frowned at the screen. Planks? What's that?
Before he could ask, a simulation appeared, showing a glowing humanoid figure performing each exercise with exaggerated precision.
---
Charlie slumped against the wall, his chest heaving, his body trembling from exhaustion. His shirt clung to him like a second skin, soaked through with sweat. He wiped at his face with the gym towel, but it was useless—the sweat just kept pouring.
His breath came in short, ragged gasps. "System... why... do I sweat so much?" he asked in his mind, his expression twisted in pain.
The System responded bluntly:
"It's because you have a very hairy body, Charlie."
Charlie groaned, glancing down at himself. "Oh yeah... you're right," he muttered. He had a thick carpet of hair on his chest and back, and combined with his weight, it turned every workout into a sauna session. The smell didn't help either—it was pungent, a mix of sweat and regret.
As he tried to recover, a sharp voice cut through his haze.
"Don't look at me!"
Charlie blinked, his head snapping up. A girl was standing a few feet away, her face contorted with disgust. She was slim, fit, and clearly annoyed. "If I catch you staring at me again, I'll complain to the staff!"
His heart skipped a beat. "What?" he stammered, utterly confused.
Then he noticed where she had been—at a squat rack, mid-rep. Charlie's eyes widened in realization. Oh no.
He wasn't looking at her. He'd been staring at the System notification floating in his vision, conveniently positioned right near her workout.
"I... I'm sorry," he said quickly, his voice trembling.
The girl rolled her eyes. "You better be sorry," she snapped before grabbing her towel and moving to another part of the gym.
Charlie sighed, wiping his face again as he leaned against the wall. Goddamn it, System. Couldn't you pop up somewhere else?
The System chimed in, breaking his thoughts:
"Reward: First Day at the Gym Complete!"
Reward Unlocked: Height Enhancement Potion.
Charlie froze, the words glowing in his vision. He stared at the notification, the frustration melting away for a moment.
"Well... fine," he muttered. "I'll forgive you this time, System."
Charlie trudged out of the gym, his legs wobbling beneath him. His towel hung limply over his shoulder, and his shirt was drenched, sticking to his chest and back. All he wanted was to go home, take a shower, and cook something simple to claim that sweet $100 reward.
"Well, let's go home and shower, System," he muttered, already imagining the relief of warm water washing away the grime and sweat.
But as he turned toward the direction of home, the familiar chime of the System interrupted him:
"Time for fight training."
Charlie froze mid-step. "No," he groaned, his voice cracking. "I'm tired, System! I can barely stand! Please, just let me go home, shower, and make dinner for me and my parents so I can get those $100!"
"Proceeding to shock in 3... 2..."
"Fine! FINE!" Charlie threw his hands up, nearly dropping his gym bag. "You win, okay? Ugh, this is so unfair!"
Dragging himself toward the park, Charlie dumped his bag near a bench and stood awkwardly in the middle of an empty clearing. Sweat dripped from his face, and he let out a long, defeated sigh.
A simulation flickered to life before him. A glowing humanoid figure stood in a perfect boxing stance, its movements sharp and precise.
Charlie groaned, wiping at his forehead. "Ugh… this again?"
The System's voice was relentless:
"Imitate the stance. Begin training now."
Charlie raised his trembling arms, his posture awkward and unsteady. His punches were slow, his balance wobbly. The simulation moved with perfect grace, and he looked like a pale imitation beside it.
"Ugh… I hate this," Charlie grumbled under his breath, throwing a sloppy jab.
---
Nearby, an old man sitting on a bench watched him with a stupefied expression. His bag of breadcrumbs sat forgotten as ducks gathered at his feet. He squinted at Charlie, tilting his head.
What the hell am I even looking at?
---
By the time Charlie finished the simulation, his shirt was even more soaked than before, clinging to him like a second skin. He trudged back to his bag, every step a reminder of his aching muscles and the cruel demands of the System.
Finally, with no interruptions, he headed home.
After dragging himself home, Charlie headed straight for the shower. The warm water was a welcome relief, washing away the layers of sweat and grime that clung to him after hours of exercise and training. He leaned against the tiles, letting the water soothe his aching muscles.
Drying off and throwing on a loose shirt and shorts, he shuffled to the kitchen. "Alright, System," he said, still toweling his hair. "What's for dinner today? Please, please, give me plenty of food. I'm starving here."
The System's response came swiftly.
"Today's Menu: Grilled chicken wraps with avocado, spinach, and a side of roasted sweet potatoes."
Charlie sighed. "Fine, I'll take it. Let's do this."
---
Cooking in Progress
Charlie gathered the ingredients, setting them out on the counter with the precision of a general preparing for battle. The glowing simulation appeared before him again, showing step-by-step instructions.
"Okay, chicken first," he muttered, picking up the raw chicken breast. He seasoned it with salt, pepper, and a dash of garlic powder, rubbing it in with clumsy but deliberate motions. Then, he heated a pan, the sizzle of the meat filling the kitchen as he placed it down.
As the chicken cooked, he moved to the sweet potatoes, peeling and chopping them with care. The simulation showed perfect slices; Charlie's were... close enough. Tossing them in olive oil and spices, he slid them into the oven.
"Wraps next," he muttered, pulling out tortillas, avocado, and spinach. He mashed the avocado with a fork, spreading it onto each wrap with surprising focus.
By the time everything came together, the kitchen was a controlled chaos of half-used utensils and spices. Charlie wiped his brow, looking proudly at his work.
---
Parental Surprise
The front door creaked open as his parents returned from work. Harold, his father, stepped into the house first, his tired expression shifting to one of confusion as he caught the faint aroma of cooking.
"Charlie?" he called out, stepping into the kitchen. There stood his son, once the laziest person he knew, cooking dinner again.
"Hi, Dad! Hi, Mom!" Charlie called out, glancing up from plating the food. "Take a seat. It'll be ready soon."
Harold exchanged a glance with his wife, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Uh… okay," he said cautiously, pulling out a chair at the table.
His wife, equally perplexed, joined him. The two of them sat in silence, watching their son move around the kitchen like someone who'd been doing this for years.
---
Dinner Time
The plates hit the table, and Charlie sat down with a grin. His parents hesitated before taking a bite, their expressions guarded. But as they tasted the chicken, their surprise was evident.
"This is… good," Harold said, blinking at his plate.
His wife nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "Really good. Charlie, where did you learn to cook like this? This is the second day you cook!"
Charlie just shrugged, suppressing a smirk.
---
The System's Task
After cleaning up the kitchen and earning another $100, Charlie collapsed onto his bed, satisfied. The System chimed again, displaying a new notification:
Task Added: Make Dinner 25 Days in a Row.
Reward: Cooking Mastery Level 2.
Charlie's eyes widened as he read the reward details: better technique, improved flavor, and tastier meals overall.
"More tasty food?" he said, laughing to himself. "Yes! Bwahaha!"
His stomach grumbled softly, reminding him that dinner had been filling but still smaller than he liked. He sighed, patting his belly. "Guess I'll get used to it."
Then he slept, but it wasn't a normal dream...