novelraw Chapter 59
Chapter 59
Chapter 59
Whenever Yan Huan let his curious gaze slide over the phantom words, certain phrases flashed gold and unfolded into fuller explanations.
[When athletic efficiency spikes, the rate at which muscle fibers tear and rebuild also skyrockets. Expect sharper pain, higher nutritional demands, etc.]
He got the gist.
Normal muscle growth happens because training rips fibers that come back thicker and stronger. The new perk just accelerates the process—so the tearing hurts twice as much. Then it slaps on a curse that doubles the pain again.
Yan Huan swallowed, a bead of cold sweat sliding down his cheek.
Yep... this is gonna sting.
The combo actually made sense: faster fiber turnover could leave the muscles fragile, but the skill "Bare-Skin" neatly patched that hole. Strip down to train and you get a 100 % stat boost that keeps pace with the turbo-charged growth cycle—thoughtful, in a twisted way.
"Meow?"
Meow-chan glanced up, puzzled by his hesitation.
In seconds Yan Huan made up his mind.
"The curse weakens as my muscles grow; they can't inflate forever, so the pain will taper off. Endure early, cruise later."
He stood, peeled off his shirt, and stepped in front of the bathroom mirror.
He wasn't scrawny—odd jobs kept him active and vice-free—but "brawny" would be generous. He pinched the soft padding on his arms and swore he heard it whisper, Get big, get strong.
"."
He shimmied out of his pajama bottoms and returned to the bedside.
The perk would make him healthier and tougher; even if it didn't fix the Modifiers, being strong was never a bad thing.
As for the other two skills—Nimble Fingers and Demon Chef—
The first was clearly a joke unlock for extra defeat CGs; he could think of zero practical use.
Demon Chef sounded fun. He wasn't a master chef, but everyone has to eat. Better-tasting meals? Why not.
Except... the mild curse.
Three meals a day, three curses a day. After three days you're carrying nine. They'll keep stacking like a family reunion in your bloodstream.
In the end he chose Athletic Aesthetics.
A low hum rippled through the room. The black orb shattered and streamed into him. A dull ache blossomed in legs that had walked the expo all day.
"Figures," he muttered. "Leg day by accident."
Moments later his body felt lighter; fingers snapped with new power.
"."
He looked down at his short pajama set. So the buff triggers when uncovered skin passes a certain ratio.
What if he uncovered more?
He peeled off the last scraps and tossed them over his shoulder. The shirt landed on Meow-chan, who thrashed out a muffled "Meow!"
"Sorry, experiment," he said, flexing experimentally.
Still not enough. Off came everything else.
"Meow~"
The cat emerged from the shirt only to arch its tail and retreat at full fluff.
"Whoa, this is nuts."
Yan Huan's punches sliced the air with audible whooshes. Strength, stamina, vitality—all surged. He had half a mind to sprint around the room like Sun Wukong on a sugar high.
After a minute he tugged his underwear back on. The instant fabric touched skin, roughly thirty percent of the buff vanished.
"?"
He tested again—same drop.
Triangle-cut briefs don't cover much; how could they cost so much power?
So it's not about square inches of cloth.
"."
He stripped once more. The missing chunk of power snapped back. His intelligence-boosted brain lit up with a Tong Yingying-grade brainstorm.
"Wait—I've got an idea!"
He fished a spare mask from the nightstand and pulled it over his face.
Snap—another thirty percent gone.
"."
He peeled the mask off, complexion darkening.
Fine. Game on.
He redressed piece by piece. Final tally: the full buff only works when he's basically naked. Everyday wear—shirt and knee-length shorts—nets about fifty-five percent. Poolside, maybe sixty. Otherwise, modesty wins and power dips.
He lifted the pajamas off the bed, freeing Meow-chan.
"Meow?"
Cute eyes blinked up at him, reminding him the cat had helped plug in the flash drive and delivered Bai Yi's headphones.
Wait—where are my earbuds?
Did Bai Yi ever give them back?
He smacked his forehead. Last week his uniform had spent five days at Ye Shiyu's place before coming back stamped "YOU HAVE BEEN MARKED." Now the earbuds were missing again.
"Whatever. She's coming to the study group next week; I'll ask then."
He flicked off the light and slid under the blanket. A warm, furry lump curled against his chest and peered up with emerald eyes.
"Night, Meow-chan."
The cat tilted its head and chirped, "Meow~"
Another week gone.
"Morning, President."
Monday, early bus from South District to school. Yan Huan glanced at Hashimoto's panda eyes.
"Didn't sleep?"
Hashimoto nodded wearily.
After getting home last night, I looked up some exorcism rituals online—just a few, to rack up some good karma. Then I spent the rest of the evening playing that new galgame I picked up at the con, *My Adorable Stepsister Loli*. Heh-heh. The heroine is just too cute. I love her.
Hashimoto, the tiny bit of virtue you scraped together with those rituals probably got wiped out the moment you booted that game. You're probably in the red now.
Hashimoto, however, didn't notice the warning in Yan Huan's eyes at all. He was about to slip on his Bluetooth earbuds and tend to his digital bonsai when he spotted Yan Huan watching a beginner's fitness tutorial on a video site.
He glanced at the screen—Yan Huan wasn't wearing earbuds, just reading the subtitles on mute—and asked, curious,
"Prez, since when did you decide to get into working out? Things finally slowing down?"
"Ah, I might cut back on part-time shifts for a bit. Figured I'd find something else to do."
"Gotcha."
Hearing that, Hashimoto quickly closed his galgame, opened Plane, and said,
"Actually, if you're hitting the gym, I can send you Charcoal's profile. He's kind of a micro-celebrity in the fitness scene—having him coach you might make it easier."
"Right, you mentioned yesterday he's a fitness blogger too."
Yan Huan pictured Charcoal's sculpted muscles from the day before—obviously the result of years of grinding. With his own Modifier cheat, matching that physique in a short time was impossible, but shedding some fat while adding lean muscle? Entirely doable.
"Send him over. I'll chat with him later."
"Roger. I'll give him a heads-up too."
Moments later, Hashimoto forwarded a contact whose avatar was literally a lump of charcoal. The Plane handle matched his stage name: Charcoal.
Yan Huan sent a friend request, but it was still pending—pretty early, probably still asleep.
Since Yan Huan was wide awake this morning, none of the girls ambushed him with gifts. The two of them swayed along on the bus until they reached school.
The front gate was already bustling. The new teaching building beside it was nearly finished—should be wrapped up within a week or two.
"Ugh, finally. The drilling has been driving me insane. Especially during afternoon club time—the club building is right next door. Even with headphones on, all I hear is jackhammer."
Hashimoto glared at the construction site, full of resentment.
Despite his hardcore otaku aura, Hashimoto was actually in the Computer Club. Yuanyue's culture was weird—most of the anime club members were popular kids, while the real otaku hid out in Computer Club, Math Club, and similar niches.
Hashimoto pushed up his glasses with a sinister gleam.
"If our Computer Club wins Club Wars this time, I'm petitioning the principal to have that building demolished."
"So you've already accepted that the Computer Club can't win?" Yan Huan teased.
He was about to say more when a chorus of melodious voices rang out behind him.
"President Yan~"
"Prez~"
Yan Huan turned to see several pretty girls approaching with bright smiles.
Leading the pack was a high-school girl whose mature, alluring aura felt far beyond her years. Black hair cascaded down, framing her curvy figure and carrying a faint, intoxicating scent.
Yan Huan greeted her quickly.
"Good morning, senior Mitsuki."
"My, my, why didn't you answer any of our messages last week, President?"
Takasago Mitsuki—president of Yuanyue's Mahjong Club.
"Yeah, yeah, we were dying to play last week. Your absence left us itching for tiles."
Behind her stood the club's two vice presidents, Long Ting and Yatsuka Oto.
"I had some things to deal with last week, so—"
Mitsuki cut him off with a sweet smile.
"Then come play today—three's a crowd, four's a game. We're short exactly one."
"We're counting on you, prez. See you this afternoon~"
The last vice president seemed ready to add something, but her gaze flicked past Yan Huan. All the mahjong seniors' expressions shifted slightly; without waiting for an answer, they waved and headed for the main building.
"See you later, prez!"
Mahjong, huh...
Come to think of it, after an entire break without a single game, he did kind of miss the click of tiles.
Nothing to do with the seniors, of course—he just wanted to declare "riichi."
Hashimoto watched the group leave, elbowing Yan Huan with a grin.
"Prez, mahjong this afternoon?"
"Mm, I'll think about it."
"Huh, could it be because of Vice-President Sakuramiya?"
"What makes you say that?"
Yan Huan raised an eyebrow, glancing at Hashimoto.
"Heh, everyone knows President Takasago and Vice-President Sakuramiya are at each other's throats. Both from Sakura Country, old acquaintances, they say. Rumor has it the Takasago and Sakuramiya families are wrestling overseas. But, prez, I've got insider intel."
"Insider?"
"Yup. Bottom line: the Takasagos can't beat the Sakuramiyas. Their feud has nothing to do with family politics. There's only one true reason."
Yan Huan was intrigued—Sakuramiya rarely spoke of her home life. He only knew her family was powerful.
"Mm-hmm?"
So when Hashimoto leaned in conspiratorially, Yan Huan couldn't help but listen.
But just as Yan Huan turned, eager to hear the scoop, something in his peripheral vision made his face pale. He opened his mouth to warn Hashimoto—too late.
"Eigh—"
"It's the figure, prez! The figure!! Senior Takasago's curves are top-tier. Meanwhile, our Vice-President Sakuramiya, tsk tsk—" He mimed a flat line. "I heard at a Sakura Country banquet—"
Hashimoto rattled on, oblivious, while the meager virtue he'd saved flickered like a candle in a storm.
Because behind him, an icy chill was creeping closer.
"Hashimoto-kun."
Hashimoto's animated grin froze, inch by inch, as he turned around.
There stood Ashley—Discipline Committee captain—red armband gleaming on her sleeve. Beside her, Sakuramiya Hitomi in a black dress, smiling sweetly.
Exactly as Hashimoto had said—petite, flat as a board.
"Oh my, spreading rumors? And from our own student council, no less. How troubling. I suppose Hashimoto-kun will have plenty of time to reflect in the Discipline Committee office."
Yet the small figure exuded a terrifying shadow that convinced Hashimoto more than ever—
It's a demon!
A demon hiding inside Vice-President Sakuramiya!
Ashley rubbed her temples, then signaled the Discipline Committee members behind her: take him away.
Hashimoto whipped around, pleading with his eyes—
"Pre—"
But Yan Huan had already drifted several steps away, looking on with sympathy.
You're on your own, Hashimoto.
"Eek!"
The next second, two committee members seized Hashimoto's shoulders and marched him off under Ashley's command.
And so, on this Monday morning, the usual handsome pair stood conspicuously alone.
Sakuramiya brushed a strand of black hair behind her ear and walked up to Yan Huan.
"Morning, prez."
"Ah, good morning, Sakuramiya."
At that moment, another pleasant voice chimed in.
"Morning, Yan Huan."
Both Sakuramiya and Yan Huan blinked, turning toward the sound.
A masked girl stood there, eyes curved in a smile that seemed to hold starlight.
It was Bai Yi.
(End of chapter.)