Panic was a cold, slick thing in Aiden's throat.
He was back to square one.
Worse, even. Before, he was just running on empty. Now, he felt like he'd been actively poisoned.
"Do something!" Liora urged, her voice laced with an unfamiliar edge of fear. "Find someone! Anyone! Go back to the pretty office girl! Hug her again! Do something!"
"That's your brilliant plan?" Aiden thought, his hands clenched into fists. "Go maul my coworker at nine o'clock at night? Genius."
A sharp chime cut through his internal argument.
It wasn't red and angry this time. It was a neutral, clinical white. A lifeline.
[New Quest Issued]
[Quest: Uncover a secret. Generate 250 AP from the quiet one, Anya.]
[Location Hint: The Municipal Library.]
Aiden stared at the notification.
Uncover a secret? What did that even mean? Was he supposed to be a detective now?
"The quiet one, Anya," Liora mused, her voice regaining a little of its usual curiosity. "It sounds mysterious. Poetic, even."
"It sounds vague and unhelpful," Aiden countered, already pulling on his jacket.
He had no other choice.
The library was one of the few places in the city that felt calm.
The air smelled of old paper and quiet ambition. Usually, he found it soothing. Tonight, it just made his skin crawl. The silence seemed to amplify the frantic thumping of his own heart.
His energy was at 9%. Every step felt like a monumental effort.
He scanned the cavernous room, his eyes searching.
And then he saw her.
Behind the main circulation desk, there was a young woman who was the very definition of 'quiet.'
She had mousy brown hair tied back in a simple bun, and she wore large, dark-rimmed glasses that hid most of her face. She moved with a shy, self-conscious grace, as if she were trying to apologize for taking up space.
She was beautiful, but in a way that was easy to miss. A wallflower.
That had to be Anya.
Aiden approached the desk, his mind racing. What was his play here? Charisma? A dizzy spell?
He decided to start with the charisma. He leaned against the counter, trying to project the same easy confidence that had worked on Chloe.
"Excuse me," he said, his voice a low, smooth murmur. "I was wondering if you could help me."
Anya looked up, and her eyes widened behind her glasses. She looked like a startled rabbit.
"I… um… yes?" she stammered, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
"I'm looking for something to read," Aiden said. "Something… captivating." He held her gaze, letting the passive charisma skill do its work.
It did nothing.
She just blushed a deep, painful-looking red and stared down at her computer keyboard.
"Our fiction section is… over there," she squeaked, pointing vaguely to her left without making eye contact.
Well, that was a spectacular failure.
"My sweet vessel, you're scaring her," Liora tsked. "You're coming on too strong. She's not a warrior like your office rival. She's a timid little mouse. You must be gentle."
Gentle. Right.
Aiden straightened up, abandoning the failed Casanova routine. He needed a new strategy. He couldn't use force, and his charm was useless.
What was left?
His own nature. Quiet. Calm.
He took a different approach. He walked away from the desk and began browsing a nearby shelf, pretending to be interested in 19th-century Russian literature.
He watched her from the corner of his eye.
She was meticulous. She organized the returned books with a quiet focus, her small hands moving deftly. But he noticed something else.
Every few minutes, her eyes would flick over to the romance section.
It was a quick, almost guilty glance, full of a longing that was painfully obvious to someone who was now an expert in reading people.
He also saw a worn, leather-bound notebook sitting on the corner of her desk, which she guarded like a dragon protecting its hoard.
An idea, subtle and strange, began to form.
He walked back to the desk, but this time, he didn't lean. He stood a respectful distance away.
"I have another question," he said, his voice back to its normal, soft-spoken tone.
Anya looked up, still nervous, but less terrified than before.
"You have a really interesting collection of classic romance novels here," he began, gesturing toward the section she'd been staring at. "But it feels like they're all missing something. A modern perspective."
Her eyes lit up. Just a flicker, but it was there.
"What… what do you mean?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"The passion is there," Aiden explained, thinking on his feet. "But the characters are so… restrained. The language is beautiful, but it doesn't always feel real. Honest."
He had her. She was listening. She leaned forward slightly, her shyness momentarily forgotten, replaced by genuine interest.
They talked for nearly an hour.
He didn't flirt. He didn't compliment her.
He just talked to her about books. About stories. About what makes a character feel alive.
He was using his own quiet energy, the very thing he usually used to keep people at a distance, to draw her out.
Finally, he took a calculated risk.
He glanced at the leather notebook on her desk. "I get the feeling you've thought a lot about this."
Anya froze. She instinctively put her hand over the cover. "It's… it's nothing."
"I don't think it's nothing," Aiden said softly. "I think it's full of stories that are more honest than half the books in this building."
She stared at him, her expression a mixture of terror and hope. He had seen her. Truly seen her.
"How did you know?" she whispered.
"You have ink stains on your fingers," he said, pointing to her right hand. "And you look at those romance novels like a chef studying a rival's menu."
A small, shaky laugh escaped her lips.
"I write," she admitted, the words tumbling out as if a dam had broken. "Romance. Steamy stuff. It's… it's embarrassing."
"Why?" Aiden asked, genuinely curious. "Because you're passionate about something?"
This was it. The final step.
"I'd love to read something, if you'd let me," he said. "No judgment. Just… curiosity."
She hesitated for a long, agonizing moment. He could see the war playing out on her face. The fear of mockery versus the deep, desperate desire to be understood.
Slowly, she pushed the notebook across the counter.
He opened it to a bookmarked page and began to read.
The prose was surprisingly good. It was raw, emotional, and filled with a pent-up passion that the shy woman in front of him kept hidden from the world.
It was her secret.
And she was sharing it with him.
He felt a warmth spread through his chest, a gentle and steady flow.
[+50 AP]
He looked up from the page and met her anxious gaze.
He gave her a small, genuine smile. The kind he rarely used.
"This is really good, Anya," he said, and he meant it. "You have a real talent."
Her entire face lit up. It was like watching the sun rise. The blush that returned to her cheeks wasn't from embarrassment this time. It was from joy.
The warmth in his chest exploded.
[+100 AP]
[+100 AP]
[Quest Complete! Reward: Energy Replenished.]
[Energy: 82%]
He handed the notebook back to her, their fingers brushing for a moment.
"Thank you for sharing that with me," he said.
"Thank you," she whispered, clutching the book to her chest, "for asking."
Aiden walked out of the library and into the cool night air, his energy restored. The panic was gone, replaced by a strange sense of calm.
He hadn't manipulated her. He hadn't used some cheap trick.
He had listened. He had paid attention. He had earned those points through a moment of genuine, quiet connection.
"Well now," Liora's voice echoed in his mind, soft and thoughtful. "That was new."
She paused for a moment.
"Her affection… it didn't taste like fine wine or cheap sugar," she continued, a note of wonder in her voice. "It tasted… quiet. Like a story you read in a silent room."
Aiden looked up at the moon.
For the first time, he wondered if there was more to this system than just survival.
He had a new tool in his arsenal, one that felt far more powerful than charisma.
Empathy.
And he had a sinking feeling he was going to need it.