Chapter Seven: The Crush Factor Training and the Curse of the Burpees
The weekend arrived, and with it, the training. Daniel, despite his initial apprehension, was eager to begin. He had spent the previous two days pondering the implications of the "Crush" factor.
How was he supposed to "increase the crush"? Did he need to learn to juggle flaming torches while reciting Shakespeare?
He considered the system's instructions: "Talk to three girls within the week."
Simple enough, right? But how was he supposed to make them "crush" on him? Daniel wasn't exactly the social butterfly.
He was more likely to make them cringe than swoon. He envisioned himself tripping over his own feet, spilling his lunch on their laps, and accidentally setting off the fire alarm while attempting a dramatic entrance.
He decided on a strategy. He would focus on being himself, on being genuine and interesting. He would try to make them laugh, to engage them in thoughtful conversations, to show them that he was more than just an awkward teenager.
He started small. In class, during a particularly dull history lecture, he raised his hand and, with a perfectly straight face, asked, "Sir, if dinosaurs were so intelligent, why didn't they invent air conditioning?" The class erupted in laughter, even Mrs. Davies couldn't help but crack a smile. He felt a slight tingle in his chest, a momentary surge of confidence.
He began to experiment. In the hallway, he encountered Sarah, the girl with the fiery red hair. "Hey Sarah," he said, "You know, I've been practicing my lion roars.
Wanna hear?" He proceeded to let out a series of increasingly ridiculous roars, culminating in a high-pitched squeal that made Sarah burst into laughter.
During lunch, he sat with a group of girls, including Emily, the quiet girl who always seemed lost in a book. He launched into a dramatic retelling of his disastrous attempt to bake a cake, ending with the cake exploding spectacularly in the oven, complete with sound effects like "BOOM!" and "KABOOM!"
The girls giggled uncontrollably, and Emily, to his surprise, actually started giggling so hard she sprayed milk out of her nose.
He felt a strange sense of exhilaration, a newfound confidence he hadn't expected. He was actually enjoying himself.
But then he tried to be "cool." He saw Maya, the popular girl, chatting with her friends. He sauntered over, trying to imitate a suave movie star. "Hey Maya," he said, attempting a nonchalant tone, "You know, I've noticed that you have an uncanny resemblance to a… a… a fluffy cloud!"
Maya stared at him, her expression a mixture of confusion and amusement. "Uh… thanks?" she replied, her voice laced with uncertainty.
He felt a sudden drop in his energy, a sense of dejection. He had messed up.
Suddenly, he noticed a change in the system tree. The "Physical Prowess" branch, previously at 3/10, had plummeted to 1/10.
"What happened?" Daniel asked, his voice trembling.
"Your actions have resulted in a minor energy expenditure," the voice replied. "The system adjusts accordingly."
Daniel stared at the system tree, his mind reeling. His actions, his attempts at social interaction, were somehow affecting his physical abilities?
He felt a wave of apprehension. What other unintended consequences might there be? What if his attempts to increase the "Crush" had unforeseen and detrimental effects? Like accidentally turning into a human frog?
Then, the system tree began to display a series of grueling physical exercises: 100 push-ups, 50 sit-ups, a 5-kilometer run, and to top it off, 100 burpees.
Daniel's jaw dropped. "Burpees?!" he exclaimed. "But… but I'm not an athlete! I barely make it up a flight of stairs without wheezing!"
The system remained silent.
Daniel slumped to the floor, feeling utterly defeated. This was worse than he could have imagined. He was going to be crushed, alright. Crushed under the weight of his own physical limitations.
He glared at the system tree. "You're just an AI," he muttered, "programmed to follow orders. You don't even have a sense of humor!"
The system remained silent, its display unfazed.
Daniel sighed. He had a long, grueling weekend ahead of him.
But then, a chilling realization dawned on him. The system tree displayed a timer beneath the exercise list: 24 hours. He had one day to complete all those exercises.
He envisioned himself attempting a burpee, collapsing in a heap, and then being forced to listen to the system's monotonous voice: "Exercise incomplete. Penalty applied. 100 additional burpees added to your regimen."
Panic started to set in.
He had to find a way to balance his social life with his newfound fitness regime. He had to "crush" at least three girls every week to maintain his power levels, while simultaneously avoiding the wrath of the system's exercise program. It felt like juggling chainsaws while riding a unicycle.
He began to strategize. He couldn't just randomly approach girls. He needed a plan. He decided to start small, focusing on his existing social circle. There was Sarah, the fire-haired girl, and Emily, the bookish one.
He needed to find a third… perhaps that sweet girl who always smiled at him in the cafeteria, the one with the adorable collection of cat stickers on her laptop.
He started his "Crush" campaign the next day. He made a series of increasingly bizarre and slightly disturbing animal noises in the cafeteria, much to the amusement of Sarah and Emily.
He even attempted to "accidentally" trip over his own feet during gym class, landing in a dramatic heap right next to Emily. (Thankfully, he didn't actually hurt himself.)
He felt a slight tingle in his chest, a momentary surge of… something. Was it the "Crush" increasing? Or was it just the lingering pain from his impromptu burpee session?
He continued his "charm offensive" throughout the week, regaling Sarah with tales of his imaginary pet sloth and attempting to engage Emily in a deep philosophical debate about the existential meaning of toast. He even managed to strike up a conversation with the girl with the cat stickers, discovering a shared love for vintage cartoons.
By the end of the week, he felt exhausted, both physically and emotionally. He had completed his exercise regimen (barely), and he believed he had successfully "crushed" at least three girls. He checked the system tree. The "Crush" factor was indeed higher, and his "Physical Prowess," miraculously, had returned to its previous level.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He had survived the first week. But as he looked at the timer, now ticking down for the next week's challenges, he knew this was only the beginning.
The system, it seemed, had a peculiar sense of humor, and Daniel was slowly learning to appreciate the absurdity of his situation.