The alarm went off at exactly the volume of a personal grudge.
Jason surfaced halfway out of sleep with a groan and yanked his pillow to cover both of his ears from the torment of the alarm sound.
The pillows achieved absolutely nothing beyond making the betrayal slightly more muffled. The alarm kept blaring, relentless, climbing in volume like it had spent the entire night preparing for this exact moment.
He grabbed the second pillow and stacked it on top of the first, constructing what could generously be described as a defensive strategy made entirely of feathers and wishful thinking.
The alarm had won this fight, like it always did
His hand reached blindly for a third pillow before his brain finally caught up and reminded him he only owned two.
"You’ve got to be kidding me."
With all the dignity of a man losing an argument to a $10 alarm clock, he flung both pillows across the room and shot upright, glaring at the source of the noise as if enough resentment might cause spontaneous mechanical failure.
It didn’t.
Of course it didn’t.
Past Jason had deliberately placed the clock on the opposite side of the room so he couldn’t roll over and hit snooze. At the time, it had sounded like a brilliant act of self-discipline.
Present Jason would have happily fought Past Jason in a parking lot.
"You absolute traitor."
He dragged himself out of bed, shuffled across the room with the enthusiasm of someone walking toward their own execution, and jabbed the button hard enough that the poor thing probably deserved compensation.
Silence.
Sweet, beautiful silence.
"You," he muttered, pointing accusingly at the innocent-looking clock
"are a menace. A tiny plastic menace with a personal vendetta. One day I’m throwing you out the window. You’ll get fresh air. I’ll get inner peace. Everybody wins."
The clock declined to defend itself, typical.
It always won arguments by refusing to participate in them.
Jason carried it back to the bedside table with considerably more care than it deserved before stretching both arms overhead.
His back answered with a series of satisfying cracks, each one sounding like another joint reluctantly signing today’s attendance sheet.
"Finally"
The familiar shimmer rippled through the air.
[DAILY QUEST]
Push-ups: 0/20
Sit-ups: 0/20
Squats: 0/20
Run: 0/2 km
Jason stared at the panel for a long second.
"Seriously?"
He rubbed a hand over his face.
"No ’good morning’? No motivational quote? We just wake up and immediately start assigning labour?"
The blue screen remained as emotionally available as a brick wall.
"I get dragged out of bed by an annoying alarm I bought myself and then this system tells me to go running." He folded his arms.
"That’s not motivation. That should be classified under organised harassment."
Nothing, the system didn’t give him a reply and just displayed the usual daily quest screen
"I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you have the emotional range of a parking meter."
Still nothing.
It was rude, very much predictably rude.
He sighed through his nose.
"Fine. We’ll do it your way."
Running first made the most sense. It was still early enough that the streets wouldn’t be crowded. Fewer witnesses meant fewer people watching him discover exciting new ways to breathe incorrectly after two kilometres.
Although, a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
That wasn’t entirely true anymore.
Not long ago he’d only exercise behind locked doors, like fitness was some deeply embarrassing hobby the neighbours weren’t supposed to know about.
Now? If someone saw him running...
Well, they saw him running and that’s that
That thought would’ve sounded impossible a week ago.
He pulled on his tracksuit, laced up the white trainers that had spent months collecting dust as expensive decoration, and stepped outside.
The cool morning air greeted him first.
Then the run.
It still wasn’t fun.
Whoever first looked at moving quickly on purpose and decided, Yes, this is enjoyable, needed professional evaluation.
But it wasn’t war anymore.
His lungs burned without revolting.
His legs complained without threatening resignation.
Somewhere along the last few hours, the distance had quietly stopped feeling impossible.
By the time he reached the apartment building again, sweat clung to his shirt and his breathing came fast, but his body wasn’t screaming at him to immediately collapse onto the nearest horizontal surface.
He unlocked the door, walked inside and dropped onto the sofa, waiting for the familiar wave of exhaustion but it never really arrived this time
Jason frowned.
"Huh."
He sat there another few seconds, almost suspicious.
Usually, this was the part where his body submitted a formal complaint to management and refused to cooperate for the next forty-five minutes.
Today?
His body was sore and definitely winded but it was not destroyed.
He leaned back, eyebrows lifting.
"Well"
Maybe it was finally getting a proper night’s sleep.
Maybe repeating the same routine every morning actually worked despite sounding like something fitness influencers invented to sell meal plans.
Either way...
"I’ll take it."
The quest panel blinked again.
Run: 2/2km
Three objectives remained.
Jason looked at the three remaining objectives and they also looked back at him like they were in an aura clash
Homework had an incredible talent for waiting patiently until you acknowledged its existence.
He lowered himself onto the floor.
"Push-ups first."
Twenty later, his arms already felt considerably less enthusiastic about the rest of the morning.
By the time he rolled onto his back for sit-ups, he was openly questioning every life decision that had brought him here.
He hooked his feet beneath the sofa.
Lay flat.
Stared accusingly at the ceiling.
"I hope whoever invented sit-ups..."
One.
"...gets stuck..."
Two.
"...explaining them..."
Three.
"...to a jury."
Four.
His stomach muscles protested immediately but Jason barely ignored them.
Five.
"I’ve changed my mind."
Six.
"These aren’t exercise."
Seven.
"They’re revenge."
Eight.
"A slow..."
Nine.
"Calculated..."
Ten.
"Betrayal disguised as self-improvement."
He dropped back onto the carpet, breathing through his nose.
"Who wakes up and decides folding humans in half repeatedly is healthy?"
Unfortunately, whoever it was had apparently been right.
His core burned with the good kind of burn which somehow made it worse.
"You know what’s annoying?"
Eleven.
"They actually work."
Twelve.
"I hate..."
Thirteen.
"When things I hate..."
Fourteen.
"...are effective."
By the time he crawled past twenty, he lay spread across the floor, staring at the ceiling like it personally owed him financial compensation.
"Congratulations," he wheezed at the floating panel.
"You’ve successfully recreated medieval torture using only bodyweight."
The system remained unimpressed.
"As always"
He rolled onto his knees with a grunt.
"Your customer service is terrible."
Only squats remained.
He considered pretending not to notice them.
The panel helpfully remained floating in front of him. It was patient and silent.
Entirely too confident.
"You’re insufferable."
He stood.
"Fine."
Twenty squats later, his thighs had filed for divorce.
The quest panel flashed one final time.
[Daily Quest Complete]
Jason exhaled slowly.
His body ached in places he’d forgotten existed.
Yet underneath all of it...
He couldn’t ignore the difference anymore.
A week ago, this routine would’ve ended his morning before it had properly begun.
Today...
He was tired.
But he could still move and still organise his thoughts properly
Still had enough energy left to shower, head to campus, and somehow survive whatever their Professor planned to unleash on them.
He caught his reflection in the dark television screen while grabbing his water bottle.
And for a brief moment, he paused. Not because he looked dramatically different because he didn’t...it’s just been 2 days so that couldn’t be possible
But something about the way he carried himself felt much straighter.
Like his body had quietly started believing the promises his mind had been making all week.
Jason smirked.
"Look at you."
Not bad.
Not amazing.
Just better and somehow that feeling seemed even more satisfying.