Chapter 3: The Glow-Up (That Immediately Went Wrong)

Gerald stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, his Nokia phone propped precariously between a half-empty bottle of store-brand mouthwash and what appeared to be a shrine of Linda's Instagram photos. The same Linda who had left him for a man whose biceps had biceps. The same Linda whose feet pics he may or may not have saved in a folder labeled "Tax Returns 2019."

"Time to become... dangerous," he whispered to himself, then immediately apologized to the mirror for being too aggressive.

The Google search bar blinked mockingly at him: 'How to be badass in 30 days.' The results were a mixed bag of YouTube sigma male grinding tutorials and Reddit threads about men who had successfully transformed themselves into apex predators by doing nothing but cold showers and screaming at trees.

Gerald cracked his knuckles, accidentally hurt himself, and decided to start with physical transformation.

Step 1: Become Physically Strong

The local gym, "Iron Paradise," was exactly the kind of establishment Gerald had avoided his entire life. The door handle alone looked like it weighed more than his entire body mass. Inside, a guy who could only be Blade's slightly smaller cousin was benching what appeared to be a small car.

"I'd like one membership, please," Gerald squeaked at the receptionist, a woman whose protein shake probably contained more protein than Gerald's entire weekly diet.

"What's your fitness goal?" she asked, already looking disappointed.

"I want to become the kind of man who can rescue his daughter and make his ex-wife regret everything," Gerald replied honestly, immediately regretting his honesty.

The receptionist stared at him for a solid minute before simply sliding him a membership form.

His first attempt at a push-up was legendary—in the worst way possible. As he lowered himself to the ground, his arms shaking like a chihuahua in a snowstorm, he heard something that sounded suspiciously like his shoulder deciding to retire early. The *pop* was so loud that three gym bros stopped their sets to look over in concern.

"Bro, you good?" one asked.

Gerald, face down on the yoga mat that had definitely not been sanitized since the gym's opening, gave a weak thumbs up with his non-dislocated arm.

The dumbbell incident was even worse. Determined to prove himself, Gerald grabbed what he thought was a reasonably sized weight. As he attempted his first curl, his body decided to betray him in the most spectacular way possible. The fart that escaped him was so tremendous that it echoed through the gym like a foghorn, setting off car alarms in the parking lot. One old lady on the treadmill crossed herself.

"That's it," Gerald declared to no one in particular. "I'm becoming strong the American way—by watching Rocky movies and absorbing strength through osmosis."

Step 2: Become Mysterious & Dangerous

The leather jacket seemed like a foolproof plan. Nothing says "dangerous man" like black leather and unnecessary zippers. What Gerald failed to account for was Dubai's merciless weather, which turned his new image into what looked like a man slowly being cooked alive in his own juices.

"Is that guy okay?" a concerned tourist asked, pointing at Gerald who was now leaving wet footprints as he walked.

"He's finding himself," someone replied sympathetically.

The voice training was another spectacular failure. Gerald had watched countless YouTube videos on "How to Sound Like Batman," but his attempts at a gravelly baritone made him sound less like Christian Bale and more like a frog going through puberty.

"I am the night," he practiced in his bathroom, only to have his neighbor bang on the wall and yell, "No, you're the annoying guy in 3B who needs to shut up!"

The intense staring practice, meant to perfect his brooding anti-hero look, backfired when his right eye developed a twitch so pronounced that people started asking if he was trying to communicate in Morse code.

Step 3: Learn Combat Skills

In what could only be described as a moment of divine intervention (or possibly heatstroke from the leather jacket), Gerald discovered the "Karate Master Pro" app. The app promised to turn anyone into a lethal weapon in just 15 minutes a day, which seemed perfectly reasonable to Gerald's increasingly desperate mind.

His living room became a dojo of destruction—mostly self-destruction. During his first shadowboxing session, he became so engrossed in fighting his imaginary opponents that he didn't notice how close he was to the kitchen. His right hook connected solidly with his microwave, which sparked dramatically before displaying "ERROR" in what felt like a personal attack.

The nunchucks arrived from Amazon Prime with a warning label that Gerald completely ignored. His first and last attempt at using them ended with a self-inflicted knockout so spectacular that his upstairs neighbor's Wi-Fi router somehow disconnected.

When he regained consciousness, spread-eagled on his living room floor with a bump the size of a golf ball on his forehead, Gerald had an epiphany: maybe the real Winter Arc was the brain damage we got along the way.

After three days of what could generously be called "training," Gerald was fundamentally unchanged. He was still the same man who collected feet pics and made dad jokes at inappropriate times. The only difference was that now he owned a leather jacket he couldn't wear, had a twitching eye that made him look perpetually suspicious, and was banned from his local gym for "acoustic terrorism."

But as he stood there, examining himself in the mirror one last time, Gerald noticed something different. He wasn't any stronger, cooler, or more dangerous. But he was trying. And maybe, just maybe, that counted for something.

Then his eye twitched, he farted nervously, and the moment was ruined.

At least the leather jacket made him look like a sweaty James Dean. If James Dean had been an accountant with a feet pic addiction.