Ray stepped out from behind the equipment area, brows furrowed.
No lifters.
No music blasting.
No dumbbells clanking.
Just the AC humming and the lights buzzing overhead.
For a gym at this hour?
That was straight-up cursed.
"Seriously?" Ray muttered. "Did everyone collectively decide to go touch grass tonight?"
The Alter timer was still ticking in the corner of his vision.
[Global Alter — 00:06:41]
He clicked his tongue and walked up to the front desk. At least someone was there—a girl leaning on the counter, scrolling on her phone like she owned the place.
Early twenties. Dyed ash-brown hair in a messy ponytail. Crop hoodie. Gym shorts.
Her name tag read: Lena.
Ray tapped the counter lightly.
"Yo," he said. "You working today or just vibing?"
Lena glanced up, unfazed.
"Both."
Ray snorted. "Place's dead as hell. Kinda creepy."
She shrugged, popping her gum.
"Not my problem."
Ray leaned an elbow on the desk, eyes drifting around the empty gym. The Alter was still active. He smirked faintly.
"Hey," he said casually, testing the waters. "You ever think about… I dunno. Keeping secrets?"
Lena blinked.
Then she laughed.
"Oh my god, you're right."
She straightened up instantly, eyes lighting up like she'd been waiting all night to spill tea.
"You won't believe this."
Ray sighed internally.
Here we go.
"I'm dating this guy," she started, lowering her voice even though there was literally no one around.
"Absolute simp. Like, premium-tier."
Ray raised an eyebrow.
"That so?"
"Pays for everything," she continued, grinning proudly. "Drinks. Bags. Club tickets. Dude works overtime like crazy just so I can go out with my girls."
She waved her phone.
"Last weekend? VIP table. Didn't even go with him."
Ray stared at her.
"…Does he know?"
She laughed again.
"Why would I tell him? He's happy thinking he's 'taking care' of me. It's safer if I just keep using him, right?"
Ray leaned back slowly, jaw tightening.
Damn.
He glanced at the empty gym. The silent machines. The blinking timer.
[Global Alter — 00:05:58]
"Crazy world," he muttered.
Lena tilted her head.
"What?"
Ray shook his head.
"Nothing. Just thinking."
Poor dude, he thought. Working his ass off just to fund a lie.
Ray pushed off the counter.
"Well," he said flatly, "good for you, I guess."
Lena smirked.
"Jealous?"
Ray let out a short, dry laugh.
"Nah. Just… damn."
He turned and walked back toward the storage area.
The Alter was still quietly rewriting reality—pulling the darkest truths out of people's mouths.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, a colder thought formed.
If this is what people say when they feel 'safe'… yeah. This system's busted.
Ray dropped onto the bench press station, kicked back, legs stretched out, phone back in hand. Doom-scrolling with no real goal.
Then he tapped Karl's story.
Video.
Karl stood on a small stage, mic in hand, yellow spotlight overhead. Stand-up comedy. He actually looked confident.
Ray smirked.
"Go get 'em, tiger."
Swipe.
Next story.
A mutual from high school—usually posted motivational quotes.
Black screen. White text.
Plain. No emojis. No context.
[I like sniffing my step-sister's underwear.]
Ray froze.
"…Huh?"
He read it again.
Slowly. Carefully.
Same thing.
Ray shot upright.
"Holy mother of—"
He closed the story instantly, tossing his phone onto the bench like it was radioactive.
"Bruh…" he muttered, caught between laughing and gagging.
"Yeah, I think I know your favorite category now."
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling, then glanced at the Alter timer.
[Global Alter — 00:03:58]
Ray let out a dry grin.
"Okay," he muttered. "People's secrets are… kinda wild."
He rubbed his face.
"Good thing they're gonna forget all this. Otherwise there's no way they'd sleep peacefully tonight."
He checked the wall clock.
"But man…" he chuckled darkly.
"That digital footprint? That shit's gonna haunt them forever."
Ray exhaled and pushed himself up.
"Yeah… screw this."
The gym felt post-apocalypse dead. No one was touching the equipment tonight.
He grabbed a rag and started wiping things down anyway—machines, bars, benches—pure muscle memory. If everything was spotless, he could bounce early without anyone saying shit.
As he worked, the pressure in his head slowly faded.
[Ding!]
[Global Alter Ended]
Ray sucked in a long breath.
"Fucking finally," he muttered. "That shit took forever."
The moment his shoulders relaxed—
"Ray."
He whipped around.
Sonya.
Standing right there, arms crossed, wearing that evil little half-smirk—like she'd already won and was just waiting for him to realize he was screwed.
Ray's brain clicked hard.
Why the hell she lookin' like she's about to ruin my life?
Before he could speak, Sonya did.
"I've been thinkin'," she said, voice lazy. Dangerous.
Ray blinked.
Thinkin' about what, exactly?
She kept going like they were continuing a conversation he didn't remember having.
"Next week, I'm free. Friday night."
His heart slammed against his ribs.
"Free for what?"
She tilted her head, amused.
"You're actually kinda good at this playing-dumb thing."
She stepped closer.
"But let's not act brand new. I clearly remember you practically on your knees begging me for a date earlier."
"Kinda cute, honestly."
She jabbed a finger into his chest.
Dead.
Fucking.
Silence.
Ray's skull looped one thought.
I am not built like that.
Then it hit him.
The Memory Overwrite.
The system had patched their earlier Alter-fueled conversation—replacing it with a memory of him asking her out.
Sonya flashed that razor-thin grin. The kind that said she knew she'd just curb-stomped his ego for sport.
"Relax. It's just dinner," she said lightly. "Ain't that deep. I won't clown you too hard if you were hoping for more."
Ray swallowed. Hard.
There was no way to deny it without sounding insane.
"…Friday's good," he forced out.
Sonya nodded once, satisfied.
"Bet. I'll hit your line."
She turned and strutted back toward the office like she hadn't just kicked his reality off a cliff.
Ray stood there alone, staring at the bench he'd just wiped like it personally betrayed him.
He dragged both hands down his face and barked a dry laugh.
"Man…"
"Pretty sure the system just gaslit me into a date."
He shook his head, grabbed his mop bucket.
"Task failed successfully, I guess."