"Ughhh—" "My legs hurt so bad…"
When An Han woke up the next morning, he felt like his legs no longer belonged to him.
He sat up in disbelief, pressing his fingers into his aching thighs and calves, utterly confused about what had happened.
Had he really been *that* out of shape?
Sure, he'd skipped exercise during the National Day break—but just a few kilometers of slow jogging shouldn't have wrecked his body like this, especially since he'd stretched thoroughly before and after.
Come to think of it… yesterday's run had felt off, too.
Rubbing his calves, he frowned. His legs used to carry the lean, defined muscles of a regular runner—but now, under his fingertips, they were mostly soft flesh.
He could still feel muscle when he flexed, but it lacked the firmness of before.
"I thought I was just getting more… girly," he muttered.
Gritting his teeth against the soreness, he slowly, painfully climbed out of bed.
"God only knows what'll happen if my stats keep increasing… What if my chest balloons up to some absurd, main-heroine-level size?"
The thought sent a chill down his spine.
Too terrifying.
Yep—strict dorm lockdown policy it was!
Staggering to the balcony to wash up, he looked up—and froze.
Su Peng was standing right next door, brushing his teeth.
"Morning," Su Peng called out cheerfully across the narrow gap between their balconies.
"Morning," An Han replied flatly.
"Wanna duo later?"
An Han shook his head coldly. "No."
Su Peng blinked, clearly caught off guard. He stared for a moment, then scratched his head. "What's wrong? Did someone upset you?"
The damn system!
But An Han couldn't say that. Instead, he just lowered his eyes and shook his head again, putting on a gloomy expression.
He personally hated people who sulk without explanation—yet here he was, doing exactly that.
But Su Peng didn't seem annoyed at all. If anything, he leaned closer with genuine concern.
"Just tell me what's wrong. We're close—there's nothing you can't say to me."
Who said we're close?!
An Han rolled his eyes internally and stayed silent, focusing intently on rinsing his face.
"You seem really down… stuck in the dorm too long?"
"You're so annoying—just leave me alone."
"How about going out shopping?" Su Peng propped himself against the railing, leaning in. "If it's awkward with just the two of us, we can invite Ke Xin."
An Han took a deep breath and scowled. "No! Stop bothering me!"
Now you'll finally get mad and leave me alone, right?
He felt a twinge of guilt for snapping so harshly—but if it kept system triggers at bay, it was worth it.
"Oh, by the way," Su Peng added casually, "there's a mixer happening next door. Wanna go check it out?"
"No!"
"Heard there'll be tons of girls—singles-only event," Su Peng teased.
An Han's heart skipped a beat, but he scoffed. "Girls? Games are way more fun."
"Tch. Fine, I'll go alone then."
A singles mixer… that meant most attendees were college students actively looking for partners.
If Su Peng wanted to go, it probably meant he was hunting for a girlfriend—
At least, not setting his sights on me.
An Han had worried that Su Peng's near-90 affection meant he was hopelessly into *him*. But on second thought… men were naturally polyamorous—especially someone as handsome as Su Peng. He was probably running a whole secret fishpond.
Muttering inwardly about Su Peng's supposed promiscuity, An Han forced down a pang of envy and waved dismissively.
"Go ahead. I'm staying in to rest today."
"Rest?"
"Twisted my ankle running yesterday."
"You really are something."
Seeing An Han truly had no intention of leaving—and seemed actively annoyed by his presence—Su Peng didn't press further. He just wiped his face and headed back inside.
How can this guy be moodier than a girl?
Yesterday he was all soft apologies, the day before that practically glued to him—and now, ice-cold silence.
Was An Han's personality turning girlish too?
Back in his dorm, An Han collapsed in front of his computer, legs propped up, massaging his sore calves.
The pain killed any urge to game, so he clicked on a trending drama instead.
"Ugh, modern dramas suck…"
He kept grumbling as he kneaded his legs.
"The actors are so filtered their own moms wouldn't recognize them. They call this an *esports* drama? It's just nonstop romance—my eyes are burning!"
"If I saw a pro player in real life say they'd throw a match, I'd be first in line to cancel them…"
"If Wang Sheng saw this trash, he'd have a meltdown."
He'd picked a show notorious for online backlash—but it was even worse than he'd imagined.
He'd rather risk triggering a new system quest than subject his eyes to this torture. With a sigh, he closed the tab and just sat there, blankly staring at the screen.
Then it hit him—the system upgrade had also given him a "Style Mimic Camera."
An Han suddenly remembered. He rushed to his wardrobe and dug out what looked like a toy camera.
The function was simple: take a photo of someone, and it would replicate their exact hairstyle, makeup, and outfit. One camera = an infinite wardrobe and makeup team.
Sounded powerful—but An Han had zero need for makeup. And more importantly: system items always had hidden side effects!
Who could've guessed a simple chest binder would make men fall for him?!
"I swear—if I ever use another system item, I'm a damn dog!"
The memory of yesterday's disaster was still fresh. Even though he was wildly curious about the camera's effect, he cursed under his breath, raised it high—and prepared to smash it to pieces.
If it was destroyed, he couldn't be tempted to use it.
But after holding it aloft for a full minute… he hesitated and lowered it.
What if… what if I need it someday?
He shoved the camera into a drawer. It looked like a child's toy—no one would bother stealing it. And with everyone's phones having great cameras these days, no one would even care.
"Things are getting worse…"
An Han stood up and pulled out a regular chest binder he'd bought online.
He'd tested it before, but the results were terrible—nowhere near as effective as the system's custom version.
It sort of flattened his chest, but made it impossible to breathe. And in summer, with thin clothing, the binder's outline was obvious—anyone could tell he was wearing an extra layer under his T-shirt.
"Refund this crap! They advertised it as 'invisible'—invisible my ass!"
He stuffed the binder back into its box, grabbed his ID, and headed out.
As he pushed open the dorm door and turned to lock it, he froze.
From the far end of the hallway, Ren Chi—their counselor—was walking straight toward him.
"Counselor?"
"An Han, I need to talk to you about something."
"You—"
An Han cut him off. "I've got stuff to do. Go ask Su Peng next door for help!"
But the next second, he realized his mistake—too late.
He frantically hid the binder box behind his back, hands clasped awkwardly, forcing an embarrassed, strained smile.
He definitely saw the packaging!
Why does it always have to be YOU?!