Chapter 11 – Middle School
Zane trudged down the cracked sidewalk that led out of the park, his legs dragging behind him like anchors. Every step sent dull aches rippling through his muscles—his calves burning, his thighs tight and trembling. It felt like even his bones had their own complaints. He said nothing, of course. He didn't wince. Didn't groan. His face remained impassive, cold and unreadable as ever.
Pain was familiar. In fact, pain had been a part of him for so long that he didn't even consider it an enemy anymore—just a companion that had overstayed its welcome.
Zane's gaze flicked up toward the skyline. Between the apartment blocks and power lines, he could just make out the bright yellow hue of the afternoon sun as it dipped behind a distant building. He was almost home.
His breath came out in controlled exhales, and despite the agony swimming through his limbs, his expression never changed. There had never been room for panic in his life. Pain? Fine. Bleeding out? Manageable. Death? He welcomed it, honestly. If it came for him tomorrow, he would greet it like an old friend. No tears. No regrets.
But this... this new life with its strange rules and expectations—it was unfamiliar. Unpredictable.
"What's the worst that can happen?" he muttered under his breath. "I die? Been there."
The familiar concrete structure of his apartment complex came into view, its faded paint and rusted railings standing like old sentinels. As he stepped through the iron gates, he glanced to the left—the old woman's usual spot—but the plastic chair was empty.
She wasn't there.
"Hm."
He didn't dwell on it. Zane continued his slow ascent up the stairs, gripping the rusted handrail for balance. Once inside his apartment, the stale, cool air hit him like a blessing. Compared to the heat outside, it was an oasis. No air fresheners, no perfume of home-cooked meals—just cold silence. He shut the door behind him with a click.
With a deep breath, he took a step forward and collapsed onto the floor just inside the entrance. His back rested against the wall as he sat there, motionless, eyes closed, just breathing.
"I will get accustomed to this…" he whispered to no one. "Eventually."
This new body of his was weak, flabby, sluggish, but it was his now. He couldn't expect it to catch up to the ruthless machine he used to be overnight. Still, that didn't mean he'd stop trying. He had already endured worse. What were sore legs and a bruised ego compared to bullet wounds and betrayal?
After resting for a few minutes, Zane stood again, slower this time. He stripped off his sweat-drenched shirt on the way to the bathroom and stepped into the shower. The icy water hit him hard, drawing a sharp breath from his lungs, but he didn't move away. He just let it wash over him. Let it numb the soreness.
Ten minutes later, a towel slung over his shoulders, Zane stared into the mirror above the sink. Droplets of water traced down his face and chest.
"Hmm… I lost weight," he murmured, prodding the side of his torso with a curious finger. The change was subtle, but noticeable—less softness, slightly more definition. The training had already begun reshaping him, and he was convinced the system was accelerating the process.
"Fast metabolism enhancement? Maybe a passive buff I didn't notice?" he muttered, squinting at his reflection like it might give him an answer. "Whatever it is… I'm not complaining."
With that, he dried off, changed into clean clothes, and shuffled into the kitchen to prepare food. The fridge wasn't promising—mostly half-eaten junk, spoiled leftovers, and mystery containers. He found a few serviceable vegetables and a bag of unopened rice.
Not gourmet, but better than starvation.
He tossed everything into a pan and let it simmer while he leaned on the counter. The room filled with a warm, earthy scent that reminded him, faintly, of simpler times—if such a thing had ever existed.
When the food was done, he sat at the table, devouring it mechanically. Bite. Chew. Swallow. Repeat. He wasn't savoring it. He just needed the fuel.
"Not terrible," he said between mouthfuls, "but if I don't get better groceries soon, I'll go mad."
One of the few things Zane truly enjoyed in life was food, and the time for it was a sacred moment he liked to savour calmly. This situation was naturally not
In less than ten minutes, the plate was clean. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his stomach.
"Fuuh… I'm full," he exhaled. After rinsing the dishes, he retreated to his bedroom. The moment he dropped onto the mattress, his eyes began to close.
"Just… a short rest…" he muttered, but he was already gone. Zane fell asleep.
***
The sound of faint birdsong outside pulled him back into the waking world.
Zane blinked, disoriented for a moment, then sat up groggily. The light filtering in from the window told him it wasn't early anymore. He checked his phone.
"5:02 PM… I slept for five hours?"
He scowled, mildly annoyed at himself. "So much for a quick rest."
Still, it wasn't like the day was entirely lost. He got up, washed his face, and grabbed his phone again to check the map. He had been meaning to locate the middle school that the girl from earlier had mentioned. If he was going to blend into this new life, attending school was a necessary step.
"There's one... and only one, it seems." He narrowed his eyes at the map. "That simplifies things. I was worried I might need to search for the one out of many other schools."
Zane stepped outside, the cool evening breeze brushing against his damp hair. The city was quieter now, the sun preparing to set behind the rooftops. His route to the school was short—less than five minutes—but it took him through a quieter part of the neighborhood, past empty shops and homes bathed in golden light.
Eventually, the school came into view.
It was much larger than he expected. Sleek architecture, tall gates, multiple interconnected buildings with glass facades, and rooftop solar panels. The place looked more like a small university than a middle school.
"Damn. They're really spoiling the kids here," he muttered.
Approaching the gate, he peered through the bars, trying to get a better view. The campus inside was almost pristine—lush gardens, trimmed hedges, polished walkways.
"Looks like no one's here… Sunday." He glanced left and right, confirming the area was deserted. Then, with a shrug, he made his move.
He climbed the wall with ease—his body sore, but his instincts sharp. A moment later, he dropped into the schoolyard, brushing dust from his pants.
"This place is something else," he muttered, taking in the tiled path ahead of him, bordered by flower beds and rows of ornamental trees. Benches sat strategically in the shade, and beyond them loomed the school's main building—tall, angular, and modern.
As he wandered, he felt a strange sense of stillness. The campus was completely silent. Not a single student, not even a janitor.
"Feels like a ghost town," he whispered. "Could almost be relaxing... if I didn't know better."
He reached the main building and tried the doors—locked, of course.
"I could force them…" he muttered, eyeing the handles. "But what's the point? I've seen enough."
Instead, he turned and began circling the perimeter, taking mental notes of the layout. Classrooms on the west wing, probably administrative offices on the east. A large courtyard sat behind the main structure, complete with what looked like an outdoor cafeteria area.
For a middle school, this was overkill. Still, it would serve his purposes. He didn't care about the curriculum. He cared about blending in—studying his peers, understanding the world from the inside.
And if something happened at this school—if there was a reason the system placed him here—then he needed to be prepared.