Charlie boarded the public bus, settling into a seat near the back. As expected, no one sat beside him. He glanced around briefly, then shrugged. More room for me, he thought.
It was one of the small ways Charlie tried to think positively. The System chimed in as if on cue:
"A positive outlook lightens even the heaviest burden."
Charlie rolled his eyes but smiled faintly. "Well, thank you, System. I might just call you 'Quote System' from now on."
---
Charlie arrived at the clinic, a modest building tucked between a bakery and a clothing store. Taking a deep breath, he stepped inside.
Behind the counter was a young woman scrolling through her phone. She glanced up, and her expression froze for a split second before she composed herself.
Omg, this fat guy… she thought, her stomach twisting. If he wants a massage or something, I'm not dealing with it!
Panic flashing across her face, she bolted from the counter and disappeared into the back, frantically calling for a male coworker. "Hey, there's a client, and I can't handle this one. He's… uh, being difficult!" she lied.
Moments later, a tall, muscular man emerged, his face set in a grim expression. As he approached the counter, he was already bracing himself for trouble.
"H-Hello, fa—uh, bro!" the man stammered, plastering on a forced smile. "How can I help you today?"
Charlie blinked at the odd greeting but shrugged it off. "Hi, I wanted to start laser hair removal."
The man's thoughts raced. She lied to me! Damn it, I'm stuck with this! Outwardly, he nodded, his smile stretching tighter.
"Of course, bro! So, where would you like the hair removal done?"
Charlie hesitated, glancing down at his hands. "Let's start with the torso and hands," he said. Then, thinking to himself, Once I lose some weight, I'll deal with the legs too.
The man nodded quickly. "Got it. For the torso and hands, it's $50 per session. To fully remove the hair in those areas, you'll need about five sessions, spaced four to six weeks apart to target hair regrowth cycles."
Charlie sighed, his eyes drifting toward the door where the girl had disappeared. "Fine," he said, pulling out his wallet.
The man gestured toward a room. "Follow me, and we'll get started. Each session should take about 30 to 40 minutes, depending on the areas being treated."
Charlie left the clinic, his shirt sticking slightly to his freshly lasered torso. The session had taken a full 60 minutes—far longer than the estimated 30 to 40. The technician had worked as quickly as he could, but Charlie's thick, abundant hair had turned the process into a marathon.
The man stood by the counter after Charlie left, his expression grim and dark, as though he had just fought a battle he barely survived. I didn't sign up for this… he thought, running a hand through his hair.
The girl from earlier peeked around the corner, guilt written all over her face. "I'm sorry," she said softly.
He turned toward her with narrowed eyes, his lips curling in frustration. "Tsk. You!!!..." He raised a finger, clearly about to let her have it, but then he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Ah, whatever. He wasn't a bad guy. Did his best to make things easier for me, actually."
The girl blinked in surprise. "Really?"
The man nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. He knew how hairy he was. Fat, too. Ugly body. But he didn't complain or make it awkward. Just… sat there and let me work. Still, I didn't expect that much hair. Damn near killed me."
The girl smirked. "Well, then, it's settled!"
"Settled? Hell no," the man shot back, a malicious grin spreading across his face. "Here's what's settled: every tip you get this month? You're handing them over to me. Unless…"
The girl's smirk faltered. "Unless what?"
"Unless you want to treat him next time. Since you're so beautiful, maybe you'd like to give him a massage while you're at it?" His grin widened as he crossed his arms.
"Nick!" she hissed, her face turning red. She groaned loudly and threw her hands in the air. "Fine. Fine! You win."
Nick chuckled darkly. "Damn right I do."
Charlie took the bus back home, slumping into his seat with a tired sigh. His body didn't ache like it used to, thanks to the System's stamina recovery potions, but his mind was drained. He'd worked out, shadow-boxed in the park, and endured the laser hair removal session—it was enough to make anyone want to collapse.
As the bus rumbled along, Charlie thought about unwinding with some games when he got home. Just a quick session, he thought.
Then a memory flashed in his mind. Wait a minute... the height enhancement potion!
Bursting into his basement room, he called out to the System. "Hey, where's that height enhancement potion? I forgot about it!"
A shimmering vial materialized before him, glowing faintly. Charlie grabbed it eagerly and downed the potion in one go. He smacked his lips, waiting for something—anything—to happen. Seconds passed. Then a minute.
He frowned. "System, did you lie to me?"
"You need to read what you consume, Charlie. The description of the potion clearly stated that it will gradually increase your height to 1.85 meters over the span of three years."
Charlie froze. "Three years?! I mean, I'm happy to be taller, but I expected it right away!"
"Sudden changes to your physiology could cause irreparable harm, Charlie. Gradual adjustments are necessary for your safety."
He sighed, flopping onto the couch. "But aren't you supposed to be some super-powerful System? You're supposed to make things easier!"
The System chimed in, its tone calm but slightly smug:
"Well, I am a System with 'The' at the start of its name."
Charlie blinked, sitting up. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Titles, Charlie. Think of it like this: there can be many honored individuals, but there is only one 'The Honored One.' Similarly, there may be many systems, but I am a System with 'The' in its name."
Charlie squinted, suspicious. "So... what's your name, then?"
There was a brief pause before the System responded.
"I won't say, Charlie. It might influence your performance negatively."
Charlie's brow furrowed. "What? Why? It's just a name!"
The System remained silent for a moment, as if carefully choosing its words.
"Let's just say it reflects the nature of what's ahead for you. Knowing it might... discourage you."
Charlie leaned back, crossing his arms. "Oh, great. Sounds super ominous. Just say it. What's the big deal?"
The System's voice grew firm:
"Not yet, Charlie. Focus on the tasks in front of you. That's all you need to know for now."
Grumbling, Charlie flopped back onto the couch again. "First, you won't make me instantly taller. Now you're withholding your name. What's next, hidden surprise punishments?"
The System didn't answer, which somehow felt even worse.
Charlie sighed, rubbing his face. Fine, whatever. It's probably something ridiculous like The Supreme Fancy Overlord System, he thought. But deep down, a small knot of anxiety formed in his chest. Whatever the name was, it couldn't be anything good.
Charlie sighed, crossing his arms. "Okay, since you won't tell me your name, can I at least get a title?"
"No."
He raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
"You must earn a title, Charlie. Titles are granted based on accomplishments, not requests."
Charlie groaned, throwing his head back. "Fine, fine. Can I at least see all the titles?"
"No. There are too many."
"Ugh!" He flailed his arms dramatically. "Fine! Just show me the ones with 'The' at the start, like yours."
A chime echoed in his head, and suddenly, a massive list of titles appeared before his eyes. Pop-ups flooded his vision, each glowing faintly with mysterious energy.
Charlie's jaw dropped. "Holy... what the hell is this?!"
The titles scrolled endlessly, their names ranging from epic to absurd:
The Unyielding FlameThe Eternal WandererThe Bearer of ShadowsThe Clumsy CookThe Reluctant HeroThe GodslayerThe Harbinger of ChaosThe Master of Ducks
Each title had a description box next to it, but when Charlie tried to read them, every single one was marked with the same frustrating label: "???"
"What's with the question marks?!" Charlie asked, his voice rising in exasperation.
The System answered, its tone as calm as ever:
"Only the owner of a title can see its effects, Charlie. This rule applies exclusively to titles with 'The' at the start."
Charlie frowned, scrolling through the endless list. "So you're saying I can't even know what these do unless I somehow earn them? What's the point of showing me all this, then?!"
"To motivate you."
Charlie clicked his tongue, glaring at a particularly absurd title: The Bringer of Socks. He gestured at it with mock enthusiasm. "Yeah, super motivating, System. Can't wait to be 'The Bringer of Socks.'"
The System ignored his sarcasm, letting him stew in frustration as he continued to scroll. Some titles sparked genuine interest, their mysterious names practically calling out to him:
The Void WhispererThe Blade That Never BendsThe Last Bastion
But others left him scratching his head, unsure if they were meant to be funny or insulting:
The Chicken WhispererThe Eternal NapperThe Sweaty Legend
Charlie groaned, closing the list with a wave of his hand. "You know what? Forget it. I'll just earn one and hope it's not something ridiculous."
The System chimed in once more:
"Your titles will reflect your deeds, Charlie. Earn them wisely."
He flopped back onto the couch, glaring at the ceiling. "If I end up as 'The Clumsy Cook,' I'm never speaking to you again."
Charlie spent the afternoon gaming, letting himself relax a bit. But when dinnertime rolled around, the System reminded him of his daily task.
"Ugh, fine, I'll make dinner," Charlie muttered, dragging himself to the kitchen.
He prepared the meal with the same clumsy but earnest effort as always. When his parents came home, they were pleasantly surprised to see the table already set with food waiting for them.
"Dinner's ready!" Charlie called out, feeling a mix of pride and relief.
His dad sat down, giving him an approving nod. "Well, look at you, son. Another day of cooking. It's good to see you taking some responsibility."
"Yeah, it's great, honey," his mom added, though her brow furrowed slightly as she watched Charlie eat his modest portion and with a sad expresion on his face. "But... is that all you're eating? Are you feeling okay?"
Charlie nodded quickly, shoving the last bite into his mouth. "I'm fine, really."
His dad leaned forward, concerned. "You sure, son? If this is about your weight, you know you don't have to starve yourself."
His mom chimed in, her voice tinged with worry. "Should I make you some bacon with five eggs, like always? You love that."
Charlie's mouth watered at the mere thought of the greasy, indulgent meal. For a split second, he was ready to say yes—but then the System's earlier warning about unhealthy choices flashed in his mind. The threat of punishment loomed, and he forced himself to shake his head.
"No, Mom. I'm okay, really," he said, his voice tight but firm. He quickly cleared his plate, thanked his parents, and bolted to his room.
---
As Charlie lay in bed, his stomach grumbled softly, but his resolve was firm. "Alright, System," he muttered. "Let's fight that guy again. I don't care if he's muscular, has a perfect body, and knows a million fighting styles. It's my dream, and I'm gonna beat him."
The familiar ring materialized around him, the faceless man standing tall and imposing on the opposite side.
Charlie clenched his fists, forcing down the nervous flutter in his stomach. "Alright, you bastard," he muttered. "I don't care how strong you are. This is my dream, and I'm gonna—"
The bell rang.
The faceless man moved like lightning. Before Charlie could even finish his thought, a fist slammed into his gut.
"Ugh—!" The air was punched clean out of his lungs as he staggered backward, his vision swimming. He clutched his stomach, gasping for breath, but the man didn't relent.
A second punch—a sharp jab—connected with his jaw. Pain exploded through his face, and he stumbled to the side, nearly losing his footing. His ears rang, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
"F—k!" Charlie spat, stumbling back, his hands coming up in a clumsy attempt to guard his face.
The faceless man was relentless. He swept Charlie's legs out from under him with a precise kick, sending him crashing to the mat. The impact rattled through his entire body, pain blooming in his back and elbows where they hit the hardest.
"Get up," the System's voice urged coldly.
Charlie groaned, his arms trembling as he pushed himself up onto his knees. His chest heaved, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
The faceless man didn't wait. A knee came flying into Charlie's ribs, and he crumpled to the mat again with a guttural cry.
"System! This is—this is too much!" Charlie wheezed, his body screaming in pain.
"This is reality, Charlie. Your opponent will not wait for you to recover."
Charlie forced himself to his feet, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes, and his legs wobbled like they were made of jelly.
The faceless man lunged again, but this time, Charlie managed to stumble out of the way, throwing a wild, desperate punch. It connected with the man's shoulder, but it was like hitting a brick wall.
The man didn't even flinch.
A brutal uppercut caught Charlie under the chin, snapping his head back and sending him sprawling to the mat once more.
The bell rang.
Charlie lay on the mat, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His vision blurred as he tried to focus on the lights above.
"System... I can't... I can't do this, he broke my ribs!!!! " he gasped.
"You can, Charlie, they are not borken, you just feel the pain. You survived the first round. Stand up."
Charlie groaned, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Blood smeared across his knuckles. His entire body ached, but he forced himself to roll onto his side and push himself up.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice shaky but determined. "Let's go again."
The bell rang.
The faceless man unleashed a flurry of punches. Each hit felt like a hammer blow, rocking Charlie's body. He tried to guard, to weave, to move, but his stamina was failing him.
A kick landed on his thigh, and he cried out as his leg buckled. Another punch smashed into his ribs, sending a fresh wave of pain through his chest.
The fight dragged on, each minute stretching into eternity. Charlie's lungs burned, his muscles quivered, and every part of his body begged him to give up.
---
When the final bell rang, Charlie collapsed onto the mat, utterly spent. His entire body throbbed with pain, his breaths shallow and uneven. Sweat and blood dripped from his face, pooling beneath him.
"You... suck..." he muttered to the System, his words slurred with exhaustion. Charlie's vision faded, and when he woke up in his bed, he shot up with a sharp inhale.
He clutched his chest, half expecting to find bruises and broken ribs, but there was nothing. His body ached from the previous day's workout, but there was no sign of the dream's brutal beating.
"System," he growled. "I swear, I'm never gonna win against that guy."
"Every scar is a lesson, every struggle a step forward. Strength is forged, not gifted."
Charlie flopped back onto the bed, groaning. "Yeah, sure. Tell that to my dignity."