Masao closed the browser, the glow of the screen fading as he registered the late hour.
With his mind already made up, he allocated his free attribute point to [Constitution].
It was the most practical choice. In a stable society, [Strength] or [Agility] were of limited use. And if any real danger came, he had his Mark Suit.
He'd briefly entertained the idea of boosting [Luck], but it was too abstract, too capricious. [Constitution] was tangible. His daily, high-intensity training was bound to cause strain, and a more robust body would ensure he could endure it.
The moment he confirmed his choice, a wave of warmth bloomed in his core, spreading through his limbs in a soothing, tingling current. It was a deep, cellular euphoria, a sensation of being fundamentally rewarded.
The pleasurable feeling lingered for several minutes before finally ebbing away.
Masao stretched, his joints popping softly. A satisfied sigh escaped him.
"Ah. That felt good."
It was a full system restore.
—
—
Monday, It was Jahy's first day of school.
When Masao walked into the Service Club that afternoon, he found Yukinoshita Yukino looking gloomy.
After a full week of dedicated effort—strategic treats, soft coaxing, and unwavering patience—Yukinoshita had finally won Jahy over.
She had been on the precipice of victory, mere inches from touching those coveted cat ears. But now, with Jahy attending school, their chances to meet had evaporated. The loss was palpable.
Seeing her distant stare, Masao could easily guess the reason.
'Jahy, you truly are a heartbreaker.'
He decided to divert her attention.
"You know, Yukinoshita," he began, pausing his exercises. "Through these weeks effort, I've nearly lost five kilograms."
"Oh. Is that so?" she replied, her voice flat and disinterested.
"So cold," Masao said, fixing her with a look of mock betrayal. "Shouldn't you feel a sense of accomplishment? Shouldn't you be a little happy for me?"
Yukinoshita finally turned her head, her expression one of confusion.
"Happy? Why should I be happy?"
Masao stopped completely, leveling a stare at her usually reserved for the most heartless of villains.
"Yukinoshita-san, your cruelty knows no bounds."
She said nothing, merely observing his theatrics with a cool, analytical gaze.
"Yukinoshita, am I not the Service Club's one and only client?" he pressed. "In one swoop, I've single-handedly provided this club with enough 'business' to last six months, maybe even a year!"
"Stop." She held up a hand, her brow furrowing in distaste. "Your terminology is strange. 'Client.' 'Business.' We are not a corporation. I accept requests to fulfill my own ideals. This club has no need for 'performance metrics.'"
A faint, proud smile then touched her lips.
"However, you are correct about one thing. A sense of accomplishment is present. Watching you, Masao-kun, gradually become more like a functional human being under my guidance... I can't help but marvel at my own prowess. To achieve the monumental feat of human reformation... could it be that I am, in fact, a god?"
Hearing her deliver this with complete seriousness, Masao couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"You know," he chuckled, "I've always had the feeling that you might be a little bit of a chuunibyou."
He'd always been so taken by her cool, elegant facade. But now it was obvious—her talk of "changing the world," her constant proclamations of her own excellence, and now this divine self-assessment? It was a textbook "Eight-grade-syndrome."
The moment his smile appeared, hers disappeared. Her eyes narrowed into shards of ice.
She was angry. Not because his words were absurd, but because they held an uncomfortable grain of truth she couldn't immediately refute.
To think the label of "chuunibyou" would ever be associated with her.
"Masao-kun," she began, her voice dangerously calm. "Before you sling such accusations, you should understand the definition of the word. Chuunibyou refers to those with an excessively inflated ego, a delusional sense of grandeur, and a belief that they are both misunderstood and unfortunate."
Her words fell, leaving the clubroom in ringing silence.
Masao stared, the unspoken comment hanging between them. 'Yukinoshita, that definition sounds like it was tailor-made for you.'
His own understanding of the term had been vague, but her explanation crystallized it. Yukinoshita Yukino was a high-grade case of chuunibyou.
The "inflated ego" and "delusions of grandeur" were self-evident. As for the rest—"misunderstood" and "unfortunate"... While she might scorn her classmates' opinions, her struggle for her mother's approval was a different matter entirely.
It was her Achilles' heel, a deep-seated source of pain she would never acknowledge.
Under his unwavering gaze, Yukinoshita faltered. Her attempt to deploy her signature logic had backfired, only cementing his point.
She cleared her throat, a rare awkwardness breaking her composure.
"Based on that description, the definition does not align with me in the slightest. Firstly, my excellence is an objective fact, not a delusion. Secondly, even when ostracized, I have never—" A brief pause, a ghost of loneliness in her eyes, her voice firming with resolve. "—I have never once considered myself unfortunate."
If, billions of years from now, the Earth were to be destroyed, only one thing would remain in its orbit: Yukinoshita Yukino's pride. It was just that hard to beat.
Whether it was self-deception or a fortress around her heart, one truth was absolute: Yukinoshita Yukino would never, ever admit to her own vulnerabilities.
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