The memories weren't kind. They came like waves — crashing, relentless, and cold.
After his mother died, Logan's world didn't just lose its color — it turned dark. And when his father brought in a new wife and her perfect twin children, Logan was no longer a part of the family.
He was just a stain on their perfect picture.
His stepmother, Vanessa, was beauty and poison wrapped in silk. Elegant at parties, cruel behind closed doors. From the moment she stepped into Logan's life, she made one thing clear:
"You're not my son. Don't expect love. Don't expect kindness. You're a burden — nothing more."
And she meant it.
While the house had three bedrooms, Logan was shoved into the storage room — a tiny, windowless space that reeked of mold and dust. No fan. No air conditioning. A thin mattress on a wooden floor. The only light came from a bare bulb hanging above, flickering like it, too, wanted to leave.
His stepbrother, Jace, was his mirror in age, but the exact opposite in every other way. Confident, handsome, and cruel.
And his stepsister, Jade, was venomous, manipulative, and even more dangerous. Behind her fake smiles was a twisted satisfaction in seeing Logan suffer.
The twins had everything — the best clothes, the best food, the best treatment. Logan? He was the family's invisible slave.
They'd spill drinks and call him to clean up. Drop food intentionally and sneer when he knelt to pick it up.
Jace once pushed Logan into a mirror, cracking it and slicing his palm open. Vanessa didn't ask if he was hurt. She screamed at him for "damaging the decor."
At dinners, the twins would mock Logan between mouthfuls:
"You know, rats eat better than you do, Logan."
And they were right. He barely got any meat. Usually plain rice or cold soup — if anything at all.
Logan lived in fear. Every step around the house was like walking on broken glass.
If home was hell, school was torture.
Logan attended a public high school notorious for its class divisions. The rich and the popular ruled, and Logan, with his tattered uniform and duct-taped shoes, was easy prey.
They called him names: "Dumpster Boy," "Ratface," "Charity Case."
It started small — a pushed shoulder here, a stolen lunch there. But it escalated quickly.
Kyle Granger was the ringleader. The principal's favorite, the quarterback of the football team, and the cruelest person Logan had ever met. Kyle's family was rich, so he got away with everything.
He once dumped chocolate milk all over Logan's backpack and said:
"Oops. Guess your books needed a bath."
Another time, they took his shoes and filled them with glue. Logan had to walk home barefoot that day — across scorching pavement, his feet blistered by the time he got back.
He tried to complain. He went to the principal. The response?
"You should be grateful to attend this school. Don't make trouble."
Worse than the beatings were the humiliations.
One day, Kyle and his group cornered Logan in the locker room. They stripped him down to his underwear, wrote insults on his back with permanent marker — "BORN TO LOSE," "TRASH," "BEGGAR" — and took photos.
The images were spread around like a joke.
"Hey Logan, didn't know you were into modeling!"
He was seventeen.
Every day, Logan avoided mirrors. He couldn't stand to look at the face that everyone hated.
No friends. No allies. Just whispers, laughter, and eyes filled with pity or disgust.
He started flinching at loud sounds. Walking hunched. Eating in the restroom stalls, alone.
His report cards were smeared with red ink and hopeless comments:
"Logan lacks motivation."
"Logan refuses to participate."
"Logan needs therapy."
But they didn't know the truth.
He once sat under the bleachers during lunch and watched everyone laugh and run across the field. For hours afterward, he just sat there — silent, trying to convince himself not to cry.
One day, after another round of bullying, Logan stood on the edge of a bridge, thinking. Just thinking. Not moving.
A janitor saw him and pulled him back.
"Life's a bitch, kid," the old man said. "But you've only got one. Don't let them win."
He never saw the janitor again. But the words stuck.
After high school, Logan was kicked out of college — he couldn't pay tuition and Vanessa refused to help.
He worked part-time at a fast-food chain,a diahwasher at a small restaurant and also as a stock boy at the Dollar mart,Wearing a grease-stained apron and scraping plates for minimum wage. Jace and Jade came in once, laughed in his face, took photos, and shared them online.
"Look at the loser! Our maid's doing better than him!"
Vanessa changed the house locks when Logan turned eighteen. He came home one night and found his things in black garbage bags on the porch.
"You're a man now. Figure it out."
He moved into a decaying old house that had once belonged to his mother.This house belonged to his grandfather and was passed down to his mother and now to him.He had to walk miles to reach work because he couldn't afford bus fare.
The old mattress he slept on poked through with springs. His room was lit by a flickering bulb, and winter nights bit into his bones through cracked windows.
He got sick. No money for medicine. He endured it — just like everything else.
And yet, through it all, he held on.
Barely.
Just barely.
The world had buried him, mocked him, forgotten him.
Its been 3 years since he met his step family or his classmates they seemed to have forgotten about him
By Logan couldn't forget them because of all the pain they caused him
All the wounds they inflicted on Logan still hurt him
---
Midnight Awakening
The room was suffocatingly warm despite the cold winds outside. Crickets chirped faintly, blending with the distant barking of stray dogs in the neighborhood. The flickering light bulb on the ceiling had stopped working days ago, leaving the entire space dim under the weak glow of moonlight slipping through a broken window pane.
Logan stirred on his creaky mattress—more of a bundle of springs than an actual bed—and slowly sat up, his body aching from the day's labor. His throat felt dry, and a familiar pressure in his bladder urged him to get up.
"Ugh… I hate this time of night," he muttered, rubbing his eyes as he grabbed a half-rusted flashlight and shuffled toward the bathroom.
As he opened the door, the night breeze brushed against his skin, chilly and refreshing. He paused and looked up, blinking into the sky.
And that's when he saw it.
A comet—glowing vividly, trailing a stream of dazzling emerald light—streaked across the night sky like a celestial sword slicing through the stars. Logan stood there, breath caught in his throat, as the comet passed over his neighborhood.
Then it happened.
The comet's tail flared, and in the blink of an eye, it veered, almost as if pulled by some unseen force. It crashed into the distant hills beyond the city, lighting the horizon in a soft green pulse.
Logan stared, frozen.
"What the hell... That wasn't normal," he whispered.
His heart thumped hard. He had never seen anything like it before. For reasons he couldn't explain, he felt drawn to the spot. Almost… called.
Without thinking twice, he grabbed a hoodie and jeans, slipped into his worn-out sneakers, and bolted out the door.
---
The Impact Site
Logan made his way through overgrown roads and broken fences, hiking up the wooded trail outside the city that led toward the hills. The trees swayed gently in the wind, as if whispering secrets to one another. An odd hum filled the air—barely audible but undeniably real.
The sky had taken on a strange green hue.
And then he saw it.
A crater. It wasn't massive, maybe 20 feet wide, but it was fresh, steaming slightly as if the earth was still digesting whatever had struck it.
At the center was a gem—not a rock, not some molten space debris—but a green crystalline gem, pulsing like a heartbeat. It glowed brighter as Logan stepped closer.
He couldn't look away.
The gem shimmered in dozens of shifting patterns—seductive, mysterious, hypnotic. Something inside his mind whispered.
> "Take it."
Logan crouched, his fingers trembling as he reached for the gem. The moment his skin touched its surface, a shockwave of warmth surged through his arm and into his chest.
His vision blurred. A searing light blinded him.
He collapsed to his knees as a voice echoed inside his mind.
---
System Activation
> [Initializing… Connecting to Host.]
[Compatibility 97%... 100%... Success.]
[Lust and Love System: Online.]
Logan gasped as glowing text floated in front of his eyes like a hologram.
> Welcome, Logan Cross.
You have been chosen as the host of the Supreme Lust and Love System.
[Primary Objectives]:
Conquer women
He fell back, breathing heavily. "What… is this…?"
Another screen appeared.
> [Skill Acquired: Aphrodisiac Aura (Active)]
Emit a subtle aura that makes opposite sex feel horny and attracted towards the host.
> [Skill Acquired: Pleasure touch (Active)]
When you touch the opposite sex she will feel intense pleasure.
>[Skill Acquired: Seductive Gaze (Active)]
Allows the user to lock eyes with the target and increase their arousal level
>[Skill Acquired: Charm Aura (Active)]
Increase the host's baseline attractiveness to the target
>[Skill Acquired: Partner Archive (Active)]
Keeps track of all romantic partners, their preferences, current mood, and affection level.
>[Skill Acquired:Sensory Amplification(Active)]
Heightens the user's and/or partner's physical sensations for a limited time.
>[Skill Acquired: Favor Request(Active)]
Allows the user to influence a bonded partner to agree to favors or requests
>[Skill Acquired:Affection Meter(Active)]
Displays the lust level of nearby targets.
>[Skill Acquired:Endurance Boost(Active)]
Greatly increases stamina and reduces fatigue during physical or intimate activity.
> [Inventory Unlocked]
Contains system tools, items, and gifts.
> [System Shop Unlocked]
Use earned points to buy skills, enhancements, and more.
> [Current System Points: 1000]
Logan's head spun. This wasn't a dream. He could feel it. The gem had fused with his body, and now… something ancient, mysterious, and powerful was within him.
A smirk slowly curled on his lips.
For the first time in years… he felt like the world had finally given him something.