Chapter 4: Changes

Evan woke to the soft buzz of his smartband, its dim screen flashing 6:30 AM. The dorm was still dark, the faint glow of streetlights filtering through the cracked window.

Marcus's snoring rumbled from the bed across the room, Liam's desk was a mess of half-empty vials, and Torren's welding gear lay in a heap by the door.

The air smelled of stale coffee and Torren's burnt work gloves, a familiar mix that grounded Evan despite the strange hum of the System of Sacrifice lingering in his mind.

He sat up, his body less sore than usual, though he'd spent the last three days in grueling training sessions within System Space.

The Valthorne Chronograph gleamed on his wrist, its silver face catching the faint light. Evan still couldn't believe it was his—a 2,500,000 AR watch, one of only five in the world.

He'd kept it hidden under his jacket sleeve most of the time, too paranoid to flaunt it, especially after Torren borrowed it a few days ago.

The memory made Evan wince. It had been during one of their usual late-night banters, the four of them sprawled across the dorm, trading jabs and cheap energy drinks.

"Oi, Evan, what's with that shiny thing?" Torren had said, spotting the watch when Evan's sleeve rode up. His broad face had lit up with a grin. "Got a hot date you're not telling us about?"

"It's just a watch," Evan had mumbled, tugging his sleeve down.

His heart had raced, knowing the Valthorne's value. He'd wanted to keep it a secret, unsure how to explain a broke student owning a megacorp CEO's accessory.

"Looks fancy," Marcus had chimed in, leaning over to squint at it. "Where'd you snag that? Some sketchy alley vendor?"

"Something like that," Evan had said, dodging the question. He'd felt the System's hum pulse faintly, as if amused by his discomfort.

Torren had clapped a meaty hand on Evan's shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "Mate, I need to borrow it. Got a date with Kalia tomorrow, and this'll make me look like I've got my life together. You cool with that?"

Evan's stomach had twisted. Let Torren borrow a watch worth more than their entire dorm building?

'Are you insane?' he'd thought, but his friends' oblivious teasing—Liam calling it "a shiny trinket," Marcus joking about Evan's "secret sugar daddy"—had made him reluctant to reveal the truth.

They wouldn't believe him anyway, and explaining the System was out of the question. So, against every instinct, he'd unstrapped the watch and handed it over, muttering, "Don't lose it."

Torren had grinned, slipping it onto his wrist like it was a five-AR knockoff. "Cheers, mate. I'll treat it like my own."

Evan had spent the next day in a low-grade panic, half-expecting Torren to hock it or drop it in a welding spark.

Now, three days later, Evan swung his legs off the bed, the System's training subtly shaping his movements. He stood with a straighter back, his steps smoother, almost gliding as he crossed the room to the mirror.

The System's etiquette and temperament lessons had seeped into his daily life, unnoticed at first but undeniable now.

He adjusted his jacket collar with a precise flick, his fingers moving with a grace he hadn't possessed a week ago. Even his posture—chin slightly raised, shoulders relaxed but firm—felt natural, like he'd been born to it.

He caught his reflection and paused. The dark circles under his eyes were fading, though sleep was still scarce. His hair, usually a mess, was neatly combed, and his gaze held a quiet confidence that startled him.

'Who is this guy?' he thought, half-amused, half-unsettled. The System was reshaping him, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it.

The dorm door creaked open, and Marcus shuffled in, rubbing his eyes. "Morning, corpse," he said, yawning. "You're up early. Shift at the diner?"

"Nah, just couldn't sleep," Evan said, his voice steadier than before. He turned, grabbing his backpack, his movements fluid and deliberate.

Marcus squinted, pausing mid-yawn. "Hold up. You're moving all… fancy. What's that about? You practicing for a holo-drama audition?"

Evan froze, then laughed, the sound more controlled than his usual rough chuckle.

"Fancy? I'm just walking, man. Maybe you're still half-asleep."

Marcus didn't buy it entirely, but he shrugged, tossing his sketchbook onto his bed. "Whatever, mate. You've been weird lately. Like, weirder than usual."

Before Evan could respond, Liam stumbled in, his red hair sticking up like a glitchy antenna. He clutched a thermos of what smelled like burnt coffee.

"Weird how?" he said, catching the tail end of the conversation. He peered at Evan, then whistled. "Damn, Evan, you look like you've been taking posture classes or something. What's the deal?"

Evan's chest tightened, but he kept his expression neutral, a trick from the System's temperament module.

"Just trying to not slouch," he said, slinging his backpack over one shoulder with a practiced ease. "You know, health stuff. Back's been killing me from the depot."

Liam raised an eyebrow but nodded, sipping his coffee. "Fair enough. Depot'll wreck anyone. But you're, like, gliding around. It's freaky."

Marcus snorted, flopping onto his bed. "He's probably secretly a megacorp heir, practicing for his boardroom debut. Right, Evan?"

Evan forced a grin, though his mind churned. 'They're buying this? Seriously?'

He was torn between relief and exasperation. His friends were sharp—Marcus with his artist's eye, Liam with his chemist's precision—but they'd swallowed his flimsy excuse like it was fact.

'Am I that good at lying now, or are they just clueless?' The System's hum pulsed faintly, almost like a chuckle, and Evan resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Torren lumbered in, his welding apron slung over one shoulder, his broad frame filling the doorway.

"What's this about Evan being freaky?" he said, grinning. He dropped his gear by his desk, then noticed Evan's stance. "Huh. You do look… different. Like you're about to give a TED talk or something."

Evan groaned, rubbing his neck to hide his unease. "You guys are relentless. I'm just standing here. Can we move on?"

Liam laughed, setting his thermos down. "Alright, alright, we'll drop it. But if you start wearing tailored suits, I'm calling an intervention."

Marcus smirked, sketching idly on his tablet. "Too late. He's already got that mystery watch. Bet it's part of his glow-up."

Evan's heart skipped, the mention of the watch snapping him back to reality. He'd almost forgotten—Torren still had the Valthorne.

He cleared his throat, keeping his tone casual. "Speaking of that, Torren, you got my watch? Kalia impressed?"

Torren's grin widened, and he rummaged in his pocket, pulling out the Valthorne. It gleamed, unharmed, and Evan exhaled silently.

"Mate, this thing was a hit," Torren said, tossing it to Evan with a carelessness that made his stomach lurch.

Evan caught it smoothly, his reflexes sharper from the System's training. "Kalia thought I'd hit the lottery or something. Where'd you get it, anyway? I need one."

Evan strapped the watch on, tucking it under his sleeve. His pulse steadied as he leaned against his desk, projecting the calm the System had drilled into him.

"Just a cheap knockoff," he said, the lie slipping out effortlessly. "Got it from some pop-up vendor in the lower district. Guy's probably long gone."

Torren frowned, crossing his arms. "Cheap? No way. That thing looks legit. You sure it's not some black-market score?"

Evan shrugged, his smile practiced and disarming. "If it was, I'd be selling it, not lending it out. Trust me, it's just shiny junk."

Liam snorted, shaking his head. "Shiny junk that got Torren laid. You're holding out on us, Quillian."

Marcus laughed, not looking up from his sketch. "He's probably got a whole stash of fake bling. Next he'll be rocking a holo-chain."

Evan rolled his eyes, though inwardly he marveled at how easily they accepted his story.

'These guys are hopeless,' he thought, a mix of fondness and frustration bubbling up.

'I could tell them I'm training to be a megacorp CEO, and they'd just tease me about my tie choice.'

The System's hum pulsed again, and he wondered if it was judging his friends' gullibility or his own growing knack for deception.

"Alright, enough about my fake watch," Evan said, steering the conversation away. "What's the plan today? You lot got classes, or we slacking?"

Liam groaned, slumping onto his bed. "Got a lab at ten. Professor's gonna grill me on my last experiment. Torren, you got workshop?"

"Yeah, all day," Torren said, stretching. "Got a new hoverframe to weld. Marcus, you still doodling for that gallery thing?"

Marcus nodded, stylus flying across his tablet. "Deadline's tomorrow. Gotta finish this piece or I'm screwed."

Evan listened, his movements subtle but refined as he packed his backpack—textbooks, a cracked dataslate, a half-empty water bottle.

His fingers moved with precision, each motion deliberate, a far cry from the clumsy fumbling of a week ago. He caught Torren watching him, eyebrow raised, and quickly slung the bag over his shoulder, masking the elegance with a casual slouch.

"You're definitely weird today," Torren said, but his tone was light. "If you start quoting self-help vids, I'm moving out."

Evan laughed, the sound more melodic than he intended. "Keep dreaming. You'd miss my charming company."

The banter continued as they grabbed their gear and headed out, the dorm door clicking shut behind them. The hallway was alive with students rushing to morning classes, their voices echoing off the concrete walls.

Evan walked with his friends, his steps measured, his posture unconsciously upright. He noticed small things—the way Marcus tilted his head when he laughed, the way Liam's thermos sloshed with every step, the way Torren's heavy tread drowned out quieter sounds.

The System's training had sharpened his awareness, made him more present, though it also made him feel like he was playing a role.

They split up at the campus quad, Marcus veering toward the art building, Liam and Torren heading to the science block. Evan waved them off, promising to meet for dinner, then made his way to the library.

He had a shift at the diner later, but his morning was free, and he planned to spend it in System Space, pushing his progress further. The Valthorne's weight on his wrist was a constant reminder of what was at stake.

The library was quiet, its glass walls reflecting the morning sun. Evan found a secluded study pod, its walls soundproofed and tinted for privacy.

He settled into the chair, his posture perfect without thought, and closed his eyes, willing himself into System Space. The familiar chime rang, and the azure void enveloped him, the transition smoother now that he'd done it a few times.

[Welcome, host. Progress: 35%. Training module: Etiquette and Temperament, continued. Begin now?]

Evan nodded, the void's cool air steadying him. "Let's do it."

The System conjured a new setting—a sleek lounge with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a virtual cityscape, its towers glinting with holo-ads. A bar lined one wall, stocked with bottles that shimmered like liquid light.

The System's voice guided him through social etiquette: how to enter a room, how to greet high-status individuals, how to navigate small talk without seeming desperate or aloof.

Evan practiced introductions, his voice growing firmer with each repetition. He learned to offer a handshake—firm, brief, with steady eye contact—and to accept a drink without fumbling, even if it was just virtual.

The temperament module was tougher. The System pushed him to maintain poise under pressure, conjuring scenarios where he faced insults or tense negotiations.

In one, a virtual executive sneered at his "lowly background," and Evan had to respond without losing his cool.

His first attempts were shaky, his voice betraying his anger, but the System's relentless corrections—[Incorrect. Tone must remain neutral. Reset.]—forced him to adapt.

By the end, he could deflect barbs with a calm smile, his words sharp but controlled.

Hours passed in the void, though only minutes ticked by outside. Evan's progress climbed to 45%, and the System paused, its voice almost approving.

[Progress: 45%. Notable improvement. Additional reward available upon reaching 50%. Continue?]

Evan wiped sweat from his brow, his mind buzzing but exhilarated. "Yeah, keep going."

The training intensified, the System pushing him to refine smaller details—how to tilt his head during a conversation, how to pause before speaking to command attention, how to exit a room without looking rushed.

It was exhausting, but Evan felt himself changing, his movements more fluid, his presence more commanding. The Valthorne's virtual counterpart gleamed on his wrist, a symbol of the life he was building.

When he finally exited System Space, the study pod's clock read 9:45 AM. His body ached, but his mind was sharp, and he stood with an elegance that drew a curious glance from a passing student.

He ignored it, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and heading to the diner for his shift. The System's hum was quieter now, as if satisfied with his progress.

The diner was busy, its holo-menus flickering above the counters. Evan tied on his apron, his movements precise even as he bussed tables and refilled coffee drones.

Customers noticed—some tipped better, others lingered to chat, drawn to his newfound poise. He didn't flaunt it, but the System's lessons were inescapable, shaping every step, every word.

After his shift, Evan met his friends at the campus food court, a sprawling plaza with neon-lit stalls. Marcus was sketching on his tablet, Liam was ranting about a failed experiment, and Torren was devouring a burger.

They teased Evan about his "fancy walk" again, but he deflected with a laugh, blaming it on a new workout routine.

They bought it, as always, and Evan shook his head inwardly. 'Clueless, all of them,' he thought, though the warmth of their friendship kept the frustration at bay.

As they ate, Evan's gaze drifted to the Valthorne, hidden under his sleeve. It was more than a watch now—it was proof the System worked, a promise of what he could become.

But the word "sacrifices" lingered, a shadow he couldn't shake. What would the System demand next? He didn't know, but with his friends' laughter ringing in his ears and the watch's weight on his wrist, he felt ready to find out.