I was still staring at my updated status screen, a giddy, almost drunk feeling washing over me. A superpower. I had a literal superpower. The possibilities of [Omnifex] were already running wild in my head—copying a master martial artist, a brilliant strategist, a world-class chef… the potential was limitless. The risks I was taking were insane, but the rewards were turning me into something far beyond human.
"Adam, sweetheart? Can you come here for a minute?"
Mom's voice calling from the kitchen snapped me out of my power-induced haze. I quickly closed the System panel and headed towards her. I found her standing by the fridge, a worried frown on her face as she stared into its nearly empty shelves.
"What happened, Mom?" I asked, leaning against the doorframe.
She turned, her expression a mix of frustration and apology. "Oh, sweetie, I completely lost track. The pantry is almost empty, and we're out of so many groceries. I need to run to the supermarket, but there's so much to get. Would you mind helping me?"
"Why not?" I said with a grin, pushing off the doorframe. "You can count on me."
Her face instantly lit up with relief and happiness. "Oh, thank you, dear! Let's go, then. We need to get back before it gets too late for dinner. You can wait for me outside near the car. I'll be there in a few minutes."
I nodded and headed out, the cool evening air feeling good on my skin. As I waited, my mind drifted. A few weeks ago, a trip to the supermarket would have been a chore. Now, it felt like another part of my mission, another chance to be the son she deserved.
A few minutes later, Mom came out, car keys in hand, and we drove off toward the supermarket, a comfortable silence settling between us.
(Isabel's Perspective)
Tomorrow is so crucial.
The thought was a constant, buzzing hum in the back of my mind. I was in my room, surrounded by a mountain of clothes that Chloe and Maya had helped me pick out. They had been amazing, helping me plan everything for my date with Adam.
"I don't care if that news about Stacy is real or not," I muttered to myself, holding up a cute sundress. "I just need to understand my own feelings. I can't back out now."
My friends had even insisted on helping me pick out lingerie. I looked at the delicate, black lacy set they had chosen, complete with a garter belt I had no idea how to even put on. It was so… revealing. Just looking at it made my cheeks burn with embarrassment.
"You have to wear this, Izzy! It's a date!" Chloe's voice echoed in my head.
I sighed, folding it carefully and putting it aside. Whatever. They helped me so much. I'll do as they said. Tomorrow was the important day. I still had so much to do—a facial, waxing, picking the perfect shoes. One thing was for sure: I was going to make sure Adam was completely blown away.
(End of Isabel's perspective)
(Christine's Perspective)
He definitely noticed my blush this time.
The thought was mortifying. I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, but all I could think about was the incident on the couch. The way he had accidentally… no, not accidentally. He had groped my breast. His touch was rough but delicate at the same time, and I had moaned. In front of him.
Huh! What the hell is happening to me? It's so frustrating!
If he just wasn't my nephew, I might have… no, no, no! I couldn't think about those things. It was giving me a headache. I even thought I saw a flicker of excitement in his eyes when it happened. Does he also like me?
Hey, Christine! Stop this right this moment! I scolded myself. I can't let this kind of desire grow. I have to forget it. He is my nephew. Adam is my nephew.
(End of Christine's perspective)
After a short drive, we reached the supermarket. The parking lot was already starting to fill up with the evening rush.
"Sweetie, can you grab a shopping cart while I find a parking spot?" Mom asked, pulling up near the entrance.
"Okay, Mom," I replied, hopping out of the car.
By the time she had parked and met me at the entrance, I was ready with a cart. We walked inside, the bright fluorescent lights and cool air a stark contrast to the dimming evening outside. Mom moved ahead, her eyes scanning the aisles, a shopping list in her hand, and I followed behind, pushing the cart.
She looked cute when she was focused like this, biting her lower lip as she tried to decide between different brands of pasta sauce. I don't know why, but ever since the System told me that my missions were born from my own inner desires, I'd started seeing Mom, Aunt Christine, and Isabel in a completely different light. More… romantically. I knew it was wrong, so wrong, but I couldn't seem to stop the feelings from bubbling up.
"Hey, dear," Mom's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I realized I had zoned out, just staring at her. "What do you think would be better for dinner? Salmon or tuna?"
"Whatever you make, I'm fine with it," I replied with a shrug.
She turned to me with a playful, scolding look. "Don't be like that. If you're like this, then what would you do when you have to choose between two girls for a wife?"
I laughed, a genuine, easy laugh. "Why should I have to choose? Boys have to choose. Men get all of them."
She gasped, a mock-horrified look on her face, but she was smiling. "I think you need some serious scolding, young man. Okay, whatever. For right now, just choose between the tuna and the salmon."
"Salmon is better," I said, pointing to it.
After we had filled the cart to the brim, we headed to the billing counter.
"Adam, you handle the billing," she said, handing me her purse. "I'll go get the car from the parking lot and bring it around to the front."
"Okay," I said, taking my place in the checkout line. I watched her walk out the automatic doors, a small smile on my face.
(Joyce's Perspective)
It's getting so late. We really need to hurry back.
I walked through the dimly lit parking lot, the sound of my heels clicking on the pavement. There was the car, just a few rows down. I pulled the keys from my pocket and pressed the unlock button, the car chirping in response.
As I reached for the door handle, I felt a strange prickling on the back of my neck. The feeling of being watched. I glanced over my shoulder and saw them. A few men, looking rough and dressed in shabby clothes, were leaning against a nearby pillar, their eyes fixed on me. Thugs.
I ignored them, my heart starting to beat a little faster. I turned back to the car, fumbling with the door.
Suddenly, a rough hand grabbed my wrist.
"What the hell are you doing?" I gasped, trying to pull away.
One of them, a burly man with a devilish smile, leaned in close, his breath smelling of stale beer. "We really like you, sweetheart. Why don't you come have a drink with us?"
I struggled, trying to wrench my arm free, but his grip was like iron. "Let go of me!"
He just laughed. "Resistance won't work, pretty lady. We're going to play with you all night. Boys, grab her."
Pure, cold terror seized me. I started shouting, screaming for help, my voice echoing in the empty parking lot.
"Someone, please help me! Adam! ADAM, HELP ME!"
But no one was there. They were dragging me away from my car, their hands all over me, their laughter ringing in my ears.
(End of Joyce's perspective)
After I finished paying for the groceries, I pushed the cart outside and waited. And waited. A few minutes passed, but Mom didn't come. A knot of unease started to form in my stomach. Something was wrong.
Leaving the cart by the entrance, I started walking quickly towards the parking lot. As I rounded a corner, I saw it. Three men surrounding my mother, dragging her, their hands pawing at her as she screamed.
A sound, a low, guttural growl, ripped from my throat. My vision turned red. An adrenaline rush so powerful it felt like lightning hit me.
I dropped the grocery bags I was still holding. Without thinking, I spotted a loose brick on the edge of a planter. I snatched it up and, with all my strength, hurled it at the man in the center who was holding her.
The brick connected with a sickening crunch. He staggered back, clutching his head, giving Mom a chance to break free.
I didn't stop. I grabbed the first thing I could from one of the fallen grocery bags—a heavy-bottomed frying pan. I charged forward, a whirlwind of pure fury. I brought the pan down on the head of the nearest thug with a deafening clang.
He dropped like a stone.
The other two turned on me, their faces a mixture of shock and rage. "Hey! Kill this boy!" one of them shouted.
But their resistance was futile. I was completely insane.
"HOW DARE YOU TOUCH HER?" I roared, my voice raw and broken. "I WILL MAKE YOU MISERABLE!"
I swung the pan again and again, the metal denting and warping with each brutal impact. When the pan was too damaged to be effective, I dropped it and switched to my fists. I found a pair of fist knuckles that were dropped from pocket of thugs- I'd picked them up.
I went after them, punching, kicking, aiming for their faces, their stomachs, their joints. Every vital spot I could find. Mom was in the background, screaming, trying to get me to stop, but I couldn't hear her. All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears. All I could see was their hands on her.
I beat every single one of them until they were unconscious, lying in broken heaps on the grimy pavement.
My chest was heaving, my knuckles bloody. The red haze in my vision slowly began to clear. I turned and rushed to my mom, who was huddled against the car, sobbing. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.
"Mom, I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice shaking. "I'm so sorry I didn't come earlier. But I'm here now. With me here, no one will ever dare to touch our family again."
"Adam… what did you do to them?" she sobbed into my shoulder.
"They're just unconscious," I said, my voice turning cold and hard. "But for touching you… they deserved to die."
"No, Adam, no," she cried, pulling back. "There are police for this. I'll call the police."
I just continued to hold her, letting her cry. "I was so scared," she whispered. "Thank you so much."
"It's my responsibility to protect you," I replied, my voice firm.
A few minutes later, the wail of sirens filled the air. The police arrived, and after we explained the situation—a heavily edited version, of course—they arrested the unconscious thugs. They praised me for my bravery and, after taking our statements, let us go.
I gently guided Mom to the passenger seat. "You should sit, Mom. I'll drive."
She was still terrified, trembling slightly. "Adam," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "If you hadn't been there… I don't know what would have happened to me."
"Don't think about it, Mom," I said, my hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I will never let anything happen to you. Ever."
"Thank you," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek. "But… I want you to promise me something. I want you to act like nothing happened tonight. I don't want to give Chris and Izzy any more tension. Promise me."
I looked at her, at the fear still lingering in her eyes. "Okay, Mom," I said, my voice soft but firm. "I promise."
And with that, we drove home, the silence in the car heavy with the unspoken horrors of the night.