Bathroom
Yuki and I had just survived our epic chocolate battle, but the stench of my sweat had reached biological-weapon levels. I headed straight for the shower, stumbling through the hallway and ignoring the muddy streaks my boots left on the carpet—Father would kill me if she saw them, but that was a problem for future Haoyu. Stepping into the bathroom, I was hit with a wave of damp, soapy air. The shower floor was still slick with puddles; Yuki, as usual, had "forgotten" to leave the door open after her shower. That girl would never learn. The bathroom was a steamy sauna, mirrors fogged up, tiles smudged with fingerprints. Towels were a mess—one crumpled on the floor, another hanging crookedly on the rack. Yuki, this is why we fight, I thought, but a small smile crept up. This chaos was our home's signature.
The humidity was suffocating, so I decided to delay the shower until it cleared. I shuffled back to my room, collapsing onto my bed—the springs creaked softly under my weight. Grabbing my phone, I saw the screen lit up with notifications. Messages were piling up like the whole world was wondering where I'd vanished to. The stars of Galactic Game Online still danced in my mind, but I was slowly easing back into reality.
Chat Notifications:
8 new messages from Fang Xiu 99+ messages from Yuan and 9+ others
I checked Fang Xiu's messages first. The guy was in full-on panic mode:
Fang Xiu:
Hey Haoyu, I know you're mad I didn't share my notes, but I swear I didn't study either.
Helloooo? Yo, you there?
WHY AREN'T YOU AT SCHOOL? HEYYY HAOYUUUUU!!!!!!!!!1!11!!!!
Screw you, asshole, are you gaming? …Seriously? Answer me!
Sorry, got heated, what's up?
I chuckled, but a twinge of unease hit me. Fang Xiu and I weren't that close. Back in freshman year, when I was still the "scrawny nerd," he and his crew used to mock me—classic popular-kid nonsense. But after I started taking care of myself and put on some muscle the past couple of years, his attitude flipped. His messages seemed friendly, but they felt like he was playing a part. Sure, he was good-looking, but for me, character trumped appearances. Not wanting to be a jerk, I typed a polite but distant reply:
Haoyu:
Heyy, I'm fine, chill! Overslept today and decided to skip school. Sorry if I worried you. ∗sadcatsticker∗*sad cat sticker*∗sadcatsticker∗
Sent. Then I dove into the group chat. The messages from Yuan and 9+ others were a total shitstorm. Our class WhatsApp group was, as always, a mix of memes, insults, and random gaming talk. Scrolling through, Yuan's message caught my eye:
Yuan:
Yo, just unlocked a new class, you losers! That settles my share of the bet. ∗crying−laughingemoji∗*crying-laughing emoji*∗crying−laughingemoji∗
Bai:
Piss off, no proof, no nothing. Until we meet, all you're getting from the cafeteria is my dick. -Laughing emoji-
The messages went on forever—90% of the class was roasting Yuan's new class, while the rest argued over the cafeteria menu. Yuan's class talk piqued my interest; he was progressing faster than me in Galactic Game Online. I shot him a private message:
Haoyu:
Yo, what's the deal with your new class? Spill!
Yuan's reply came in seconds, like he'd been glued to his phone:
Yuan:
Haoyu, perfect timing! Just logged out. The class is dope, man. It's not about mechanical boosts but powers tied to this W-Gene mutation thing. Was grinding gold when I ran into this weird NPC in a lab-like place. Offered me cash and a class effect if I joined his experiments. I was like, what's the worst that could happen? So I went for it. But holy shit, it hurt—like my bones were melting and reshaping. Unbearable. Anyway, I'm fine now, don't worry. My class is a broad framework, but I unlocked a sub-class that gives it rarity. Think of it as a separate power system. Sub-class is ReaderofWReader of WReaderofW. It's complex, but basically, I can turn my thoughts into reality. Sounds OP, but it's got a ton of limits—energy costs, focus requirements, blah blah. Should get better as I level up. You up to what?
Haoyu:
Damn, that's awesome! No new class for me, just spent the day slaughtering wolves. Wasn't great, but eh, it's fine. Let's play soon, asshole. Don't be late for school, or the teacher'll rip you a new one! :P
I tossed the phone onto the bed, my eyes starting to burn. The bathroom's humidity hadn't cleared, but a shower was non-negotiable. I trudged back, leaving the door wide open—no way was I repeating Yuki's mistake.
Stepping into the bathroom's steamy haze, I peeled off my sticky pajamas and tossed them to the floor. The fabric reeked of sweat and the lingering grit of Galactic Game Online's wolf battles—gross, but weirdly triumphant. I stood in front of the mirror, wiping away the fog with my hand and taking a good look at myself. Come on, what guy doesn't check himself out in the mirror and think, "Not bad"? My body wasn't amazing, but it wasn't terrible either. Average, let's say. My slightly broad shoulders gave off a vibe like I'd been hitting the gym regularly, but let's be real—I tried the gym for two weeks and bailed. Still, these shoulders were a step up from the scrawny Haoyu of middle school.
My eyes caught the weird birthmark on my ring finger—a faint, thin ring, like I'd worn a tight band for years and it left a mark. Most people wouldn't notice, but anyone staring long enough would go, "What the hell's that?" When I was a kid, Dad teased, "Maybe it's from a prince's engagement ring in a past life." Now I just smirked—what prince? Just a quirky mark. I glanced at my hair; black, slightly wavy, and getting a bit too long. I used to style it easily with a blow-dryer, but now I kept it fluffy for that rebellious high-school vibe. It'd been my look since puberty—cool, messy, but sharp. Probably sticking with it for a while, I thought, tousling it in the mirror.
I stared into my dark eyes. Black or brown? I didn't usually overthink it, but last week, Yuan, that asshole, had gone, "There's no such thing as black eyes, yours are brown, dumbass." I leaned closer, catching the light—yep, dark brown, but basically black. Whatever, Yuan, I'm calling them black. My gaze shifted to the mole by my lip; a small, neat dot, but it looked faded from dry skin. A bit of moisturizer would bring it back, like always. The rest of my face… not bad. Sharpish jaw, decent brows—enough for the high-school girls to whisper, "Haoyu got hot," but I was mostly cool with myself.
I stepped into the shower, and the first blast of water—holy shit, it was like lava! "AHH!" I yelped, jumping sideways and sucking in a deep breath to calm down. Yuki, what kind of monster are you? My sister must've been boiling herself in here. I quickly adjusted the tap to a cooler, more bearable warmth—my kind of shower, refreshing but soothing. The water washed away the wolf battles' exhaustion, easing the ache in my muscles. The soap's foam mixed with the scent of soy sauce and lavender lingering in the house. It was home. As I shampooed my hair, Alex's wistful smile and the weight of the Sinclaire medallion flashed in my mind. Is this just a game, or something more? The sound of the water drowned out my thoughts.
I stepped out, grabbing my bathrobe—soft but frayed at the edges, a classic household relic. In front of the mirror, I started my routine: washed my face, slapped on moisturizer (the mole by my lip perked right up), towel-dried my hair to keep it fluffy. Brushed my teeth, applied deodorant—the usual. Leaving the bathroom, I peeked into Yuki's room. Her door was ajar, and in the dim light, she was hunched over her tablet, still wrestling with differential equations. Does this girl ever sleep? I thought, but left her to it. Her world, her chaos.
I shuffled to my room, the carpet's familiar softness comforting my feet. I checked my wardrobe—three classic pajamas: gray, blue, black, peak high-school style. I picked the blue one, its fabric soft and slightly loose, perfect for bed. I turned to my sock drawer, and… ugh, same old problem. Half my socks were torn. We bought them cheap, and they'd rip after a couple of washes in the machine. The torn ones went into a bag for recycling—Mom's "no waste" rule. I found a solid gray pair and slipped them on. I couldn't sleep without socks; cold feet meant no rest.
I collapsed onto my bed, grabbing my phone. Let's check the Galactic Game Online forums, I thought, but my eyes were screaming. I figured I'd surrender to sleep instead—but not before setting my alarm this time.