Primordial Awakening: I Breathe Skill Points!-Chapter 60: The Price of Optimization (2)

’No.’

’Absolutely not.’

’I’m not answering that.’

’I don’t care if the building is on fire. I don’t care if the Sanctuary Authority is here to arrest me. I don’t care if Marcus himself is standing outside with a formal summons.’

’I am NOT opening that door.’

The doorbell rang again. Three sharp, insistent chimes that echoed through his small apartment like a death knell.

’Go away. Please. For the love of all that is holy, GO. AWAY.’

Knock knock knock.

Aggressive knocking. The kind that meant whoever was outside wasn’t leaving anytime soon. The kind that suggested determination, annoyance, and zero intention of giving up.

"KAI!" A female voice. High-pitched. Annoyed. Carrying the particular edge of someone whose patience had already worn completely through. "I KNOW you’re in there! I can hear you breathing through the door!"

’That voice...’

Zeph’s blood went from warm to ice-cold in an instant, recognition hitting him like a physical blow.

’Oh no.’

’Oh fuck no.’

’Not HER.’

The 4’11" girl. The one he’d literally crashed into in the hallway his first week here. The one whose head had bounced off his abs like a basketball hitting a wall. The one who’d looked at him with pure annoyance afterward, like he was a particularly inconvenient obstacle in her day.

He didn’t even know her name.

And she was at his door.

Right now. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝒆𝔀𝒆𝙗𝓷𝒐𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝓸𝓶

While he was in the middle of experiencing the single most awkward physiological process the System could possibly inflict on a person.

"OPEN THE DOOR OR I’M GETTING THE LANDLORD!" she shouted, her voice muffled but still perfectly audible.

’The landlord. She’ll get the landlord. Who has a master key. Who will unlock the door. Who will see me in this state. Who will probably report it to building management.

’That cannot happen.’

’Damage control. Open the door just a crack. Tell her to leave. Close door immediately. Problem solved. Simple plan. Execute it.’

He stood up—carefully, because his body was responding to EVERY MOVEMENT right now with embarrassing enthusiasm—and walked to the door with the cautious steps of someone navigating a minefield.

Checked the mirror quickly. His face was flushed, cheeks pink with what looked like fever but was actually something far more mortifying. He was sweating slightly despite the apartment’s perfectly regulated climate control. But he was wearing sweatpants and an oversized hoodie he’d grabbed specifically for maximum coverage.

Everything critical was covered.

’Just crack it open. Two inches. Tell her I’m sick. Close door. Easy. What could possibly go wrong?’

He unlocked the deadbolt with trembling fingers, hands shaking slightly from the combination of nerves and whatever the token was doing to his nervous system, and opened the door.

Exactly two inches.

Through the narrow gap, he saw her. Same height he remembered—barely reaching his chest, maybe 4’11" on a good day with thick-soled shoes. Same irritated expression she’d worn when they’d collided. Arms crossed defensively across her chest. Wearing pajama shorts and an oversized t-shirt that suggested she lived on this floor.

"Finally!" she said, her tone sharp with exasperation. "I’ve been knocking for like five minutes! What took you so—"

She frowned, dark eyes narrowing as she noticed something off about the situation, looking at the narrow door gap with obvious suspicion.

"Why are you only opening it a little? That’s weird. Like, really weird."

"I’m sick," Zeph said quickly, keeping his voice level despite his internal panic screaming at him to slam the door and barricade it with furniture. "Contagious. Highly contagious. You should go. Seriously."

"Sick?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, studying what little she could see of his face through the gap. "You don’t LOOK sick. You look flushed, yeah, but not like you’re dying or anything. You look..."

She leaned forward, trying to peer past him into the apartment, her curiosity clearly overriding any sense of personal boundaries.

"What are you hiding in there?"

"Nothing. I’m just—I really can’t talk right now. Whatever you need, can it wait until—"

She pushed.

Not hard. Just a casual shove against the door with one hand, the kind of thoughtless gesture someone might make when testing if something’s locked.

The door swung wide open.

Zeph, caught completely off-guard and unable to properly brace himself in his current compromised state, stumbled backward several steps, his balance thrown off.

She stepped inside before he could stop her, crossing the threshold into his apartment without invitation or permission.

"Seriously, why are you being so—"

She looked up at him.

Then down.

Her eyes went WIDE, pupils dilating with shock.

Time seemed to freeze, the moment stretching into something surreal and nightmarish.

Zeph followed her gaze downward and realized with absolute, soul-crushing horror that:

A) His oversized hoodie had ridden up slightly during his stumble, exposing his midsection

B) His sweatpants were thin, far thinner than he’d realized when he’d put them on

C) She was staring directly at unmistakable evidence that the Stat Redistribution Token had very thoroughly activated his body’s biological response systems

The silence stretched for approximately three seconds that felt like three eternities, each one more excruciating than the last.

’This isn’t happening. This is a nightmare. I’m going to wake up and this will have been a stress dream before the expedition. Please. PLEASE let me wake up.’

’Please let this be a dream.’

It wasn’t a dream.

"Are you SERIOUS right now?!" Her voice hit a pitch that could probably shatter reinforced glass, climbing octaves that shouldn’t be humanly possible. "I came here to check on you—and you’re—THAT’S why you wouldn’t open the door?!"

Zeph’s face turned so red he could feel the heat radiating off his skin like a furnace, embarrassment flooding through every cell in his body. "IT’S NOT WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!"

"NOT WHAT IT—" She was backing toward the door now, her expression caught between disgust, mortified disbelief, and what might have been the beginning of hysterical laughter. "That’s the WORST excuse I’ve ever heard! You couldn’t have just said you were BUSY?!"

"I’M USING A STAT REDISTRIBUTION TOKEN!" Zeph blurted out desperately, words tumbling over each other. "It causes random physical effects! This is a SIDE EFFECT! It’s a MEDICAL CONDITION!"

She stopped in her tracks.

Blinked rapidly.

"A... what?"

"Stat Redistribution Token," he repeated, speaking very fast, tripping over syllables in his haste. "System item. Restructures your body over 24 hours. Random effects person-to-person. I got..." He gestured vaguely at himself, wishing he could spontaneously combust and end this misery. "...THIS."

There was a beat of silence as she processed his words.

She looked at him.

Then at the situation.

Then back at his face, which was probably the color of a ripe tomato at this point, possibly approaching the shade of a fire engine.

And started LAUGHING.

Not polite laughter. Not restrained chuckling. Not even regular amusement.

Full-on, doubled-over, tears-streaming-down-face hysterical laughter that echoed off the walls.

"OH MY GOD," she managed between gasps, struggling to breathe through her amusement. "The—the SYSTEM did that to you—and I just walked in—"

"IT’S NOT FUNNY!" Zeph’s voice cracked slightly, desperation bleeding through.

"IT’S HILARIOUS!" She was practically wheezing now, one hand braced against the doorframe for support to keep from collapsing. "The big scary guy in 847—who glares at everyone in the elevator—who never talks to anyone—and the SYSTEM gave him a 24-hour—"

"GET OUT!" Zeph pointed at the door with a shaking hand, mortification overwhelming every other emotion including self-preservation.

She was still laughing as she backed toward the exit, shoulders shaking with mirth. "This is the BEST thing that’s happened all week! Wait until I tell—"

"If you tell ANYONE—"

"Oh I’m DEFINITELY telling people!" She was in the hallway now, grinning like she’d just won the lottery and discovered buried treasure simultaneously. "This is GOLD! The mysterious tall guy who glares at everyone has been defeated by his own System interface!"

"I will literally pay you not to spread this around," Zeph said, his dignity in absolute ruins, scattered across the floor like shattered glass.

She paused, considering.

"How much?"

"...I’m mostly broke right now."

"Then I guess everyone’s going to hear about how—"

"FINE! One thousand credits! When my sponsorship pays out next month!"

She pretended to consider this, clearly enjoying his suffering with shameless glee.

"How about two thousand and I keep quiet?"

"You’re EXTORTING me!"

"You’re the one who answered the door like THAT." She was absolutely shameless about this, no hint of guilt in her expression. "Two thousand credits or the entire floor hears about it by tomorrow morning. Your choice."

Zeph wanted to argue. Wanted to refuse on principle. Wanted to do literally anything except give in to this 4’11" gremlin’s blackmail scheme.

But he was trapped and they both knew it.

"...Fine," he ground out through clenched teeth. "Two thousand. You absolute goddamn gremlin."

"Pleasure doing business with you, Kai!" She was practically skipping now, bouncing on her toes. "Oh, and I came here because the landlord asked me to check if you’re okay since you called in sick earlier. I’ll tell him you’re DEFINITELY suffering from a serious medical condition!"

She started to leave, then paused dramatically at the doorway.

"By the way, I’m Sarah. Sarah Chen. Unit 843. Nice to officially meet you, neighbor!"

Then she was gone, her laughter echoing down the hallway like the cackle of a victorious villain.

Zeph stood in his doorway for a long moment, processing what had just happened, his brain struggling to catch up with reality.

Then he very carefully closed the door.

Engaged the deadbolt with a decisive click.

Engaged the chain lock.

Pushed a small table against the door for good measure, creating a makeshift barricade.

And collapsed face-first onto his bed with a groan that came from somewhere deep in his soul, muffled by the pillow.

’I just got extorted by a 4’11" girl who’s somehow strong enough to push my door open despite my 150 STR.’

’She saw me in the most humiliating state possible.’

’And now she’s going to hold it over my head forever unless I pay her two thousand credits I don’t have.’

’I hate everything about this situation.’

’I hate the System for not warning me properly about side effects.’

’I hate my body for responding this way to a simple stat redistribution.’

’I hate Sarah Chen and her extortionist tendencies and her shameless laughter.’

’I hate this apartment, this building, this entire district.’

His phone buzzed against the nightstand.

A message from an unknown number:

"Btw, your secret’s safe with me for 2k! 😊 See you around, neighbor! - Sarah"

’How does she have my number?!’

Another message followed immediately: "Building directory, duh. Anyway, feel better soon! Must be rough being defeated by your own biology! 😂"

Zeph turned his phone face-down and pressed his face deeper into the pillow, wishing he could suffocate himself with it.

’Eighteen more hours. Just eighteen more hours of this nightmare.’

’And then I’m installing the strongest lock money can buy.’

’And possibly moving to a different Sanctuary.’

’Or a different planet.’

’Whichever is farther away from Sarah Chen and her blackmail schemes.’​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​