By the time the heat faded and we were cleaned up, the clock on the wall read 9:16 PM.
She walked out of the bathroom, steam curling after her. She was wearing one of my old t-shirts. It was big, slipping off one shoulder. Her dark hair was damp, clinging to her neck and the other shoulder. She looked… poster-perfect. The kind of image I'd spent years imagining.
This was it. The fantasy. A beautiful woman in my clothes, in my room, looking at me like I'd hung the moon.
I should have felt a rush. Triumph. Something.
I felt… nothing. A flat, analytical calm. The system hadn't calibrated for sentiment.
My eyes flicked back to the HUD, still glowing softly in the bottom corner of my vision:
«Magnetic Touch» – Level 1
Proficiency: +12%
Status: Active. Sustaining.
Effect: Emotional imprinting sustained via proximity.
Next Skill Unlock: Pending Next Mission Completion.
She padded over to the bed and crawled in, moving close. She laid her head on my chest with a contented sigh. Her skin was warm.
A small, real-time update ticked over her head:
> Target: Yuri Akeno.
Loyalty Metric: 84% → 85%.
Vital Signs: BPM 68, HRV Elevated (State: Content/Secure).
Her heart rate was slow, steady. Her heart-rate variability—a measure of nervous system calm—was high. She wasn't anxious. She was blissful.
I stared at the ceiling. "It's past nine. You're not going home?"
She shook her head against my chest, a soft smile in her voice. "My mom will just yell. I prefer being here... with you."
A pause. Then her went voice quiet. "Is that okay?"
Her thought slipped in, small and tense: {Please don't say no…}
It wasn't a question of permission. It was a request for reassurance. The loyalty metric in the corner of my eye held at 85%. Waiting.
"It's fine," I said, my voice neutral.
She relaxed completely against me. Within minutes, her breathing evened out into the slow, deep rhythm of sleep.
I lay there in the dark, her dead weight warm on my arm. I looked at her face in the sliver of light from the streetlamp. Peaceful. Trusting.
This was supposed to be the win. The whole point.
But all I could think was: DES, what's next?
---
I woke up early the next morning. 6:14 AM.
Work didn't start until 8:30. The old me would have felt the dread, the weight of another invisible day.
I didn't feel it. I just was. Awake. Alert. Operational.
Yuri was still asleep, a lump under the covers. I left her there.
In the bathroom mirror, I saw the difference. Not a dramatic change. A correction. I looked like the old Terrence, but fixed.The strength stat of 6 wasn't muscles; it was the lack of slump. My shoulders didn't cave, my posture was straight without thought. I looked… capable.
I didn't stare. It was just a status check.
My closet was a museum of the old Terrence. Faded polos, Cheap slacks that made me look like a ghost. I wasn't that guy anymore.
I glanced at the bedroom. Talking to DES with her in there was a risk. A stupid one.
I walked to the living room.
Phone in hand, I checked my balance. $952.17. DES's $50-a-day drip had been building a pool for a week on top of my pathetic old savings. It was time to upgrade the container.
"DES," I said, voice low. "I need clothes. For work. Today."
The HUD lit up. It scanned my phone, my bank balance, then displayed three options pulled from a local delivery service.
> Recommended Attire – Budget Optimized:
1. Slim-fit Navy Suit (Jacket/Trousers) – $189
2. Leather Oxfords – $79
3. Minimalist Steel Watch – $45
Total: $313. Confirm?
It paused. Then, almost as an afterthought, a fourth item appeared:
> Addendum: Social Consolidation Suggestion.
1. Women's Day Dress (Black, Knee-Length) – $65.
New Total: $378. Insufficient Funds.
I looked at the total, then at the bedroom door. DES wasn't suggesting a gift, it was proposing an investment. A small cost to cement the asset.
"Remove the watch," I said.
The watch vanished. The total adjusted to $333.
"Confirm."
The HUD flashed once:
> Order Confirmed.
Delivery ETA: 55 minutes.
My balance updated: $952.17 → $619.17.
The clothes were bought. The money was gone. The upgrade was inbound.
Yuri was still asleep, which meant I had time.
I went to the kitchen and made breakfast. Eggs. Toast. Nothing fancy. Just something to put in the tank. I was sitting there eating when she came out.
She'd showered. Her hair was wet. She had on another one of my shirts, a long-sleeve one this time, hanging off her like a tent.
She sat down across from me and pouted. "You made breakfast?"
"Yeah," I said. "Problem?"
"You should've told me. I could've made it."
"You were asleep." I kept my voice flat, "Besides, I didn't know you could cook."
A flicker of hurt crossed her face.
DES tagged it right there:
[Mood: Slight Deflation | Loyalty Metric: 85%]
Interesting. Her loyalty didn't drop.
I filed the note away.
"Your loss," I said, letting my voice soften just enough. "More for me."
Her face brightened.
[Mood: Recovering]
She leaned over and stole a bite from my plate. "It's good."
It felt… normal. Weirdly, easily normal. Like a morning routine we'd had for years.
A knock at the door cut through the quiet.
Yuri bounced up. "I'll get it!"
I watched her go. The shirt swayed with her hips. My eyes tracked the movement. Not with want. With ownership.
She opened the door, talked low, then looked back at me. "Did you order clothes from Silhouette Direct?"
"Yeah," I said. "Sign for it."
She did, then brought the garment bags inside.
I stood up. "I'm gonna change. Finish that." I nodded at my plate.
"Okay," she said, her voice soft. Obedient.
I almost paused. That tone... it was new. But I didn't. I just handed her the smaller bag.
"This is for you. Your dress from last night is wrecked."
She took it, her eyes going wide. She pulled out the black dress. A real smile broke across her face. "Thank you."
I just nodded and walked to my room.
I put the suit on. It fit right. The shoes were solid. I looked in the mirror.
This wasn't playing dress-up. It was installing the upgrade. The version of Terrence Holt built for the world I was taking.
As if agreeing with me, the HUD pulsed once, soft and cool, and the new stats slid into view:
> Environmental Alignment Detected.
Apparel: Optimal. Posture: Optimal.
Context: Professional Ascension.
Stat Adjustment Applied:
Charm: 30 → 45
Sexual Appeal: 50 → 60
Confidence: 48 → 55
The numbers scrolled, like a quiet confirmation. I didn't smile. I assessed.
I walked back into the living room. Yuri was standing there, holding her new dress. She looked up.
Her mouth opened slightly. Her thought slipped in, clean and awed: {Wow… he looks like a CEO.}
"Terrence… you look…"
"I know," I said, cutting off the compliment. I didn't need to hear it.
"There's a spare key on the hook by the door. If you need to leave before I'm back."
I said it casually. The logic was sound: 85% loyalty meant low risk. It was an efficiency.
Her eyes went softer.
[Loyalty Metric: 85% → 86%]
"Okay," she whispered.
I grabbed my things and stepped out the door.
No bus today. That version of me died last night. I took a cab. A small, necessary upgrade.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
"TitanForge International HQ," I said, fastening the belt.
"On it."
His thought slid into my head, smooth and automatic: {Dude looks sharp.}
A week ago, that would have made my day. A tiny hit of validation.
Now, it was just noise. Dust on the windshield. Irrelevant.
I leaned back, watching the city blur past. The suit felt like armor. The stats hummed under my skin like a shield.
Today wouldn't be great because I hoped for it.
It would be great because I decided it would be.
And I had the system to make sure of it.
---
To be continued...