X01: MY PERFECTLY ABNORMAL LIFE

PROBLEM - FREE DAY

X01: My Perfectly Abnormal Life.

Xyan made it back just before curfew.

He slipped through the side gate, mop bucket still in hand like he'd never left. His uniform was muddy, his taped glasses fogged, his hair full of leaves — but no one looked twice. Everyone was still looking at their slates, at him on their slates.

The video was still up. 2.1 million views now.

He kept his head down in the hallway. Whispers followed him like flies.

"That's him..."

"Loafer boy..."

" He's the douchebag in Echelon Class" one pointed.

His dorm room was cold and empty. Dain's door across the hall was closed — no knock, no juice box waiting. Good.

Xyan locked his door, sat on his bunk, and pulled out his slate. The hidden tab was still there, dim:

Golden Amplifier - Dormant

He stared at it until his eyes burned, then swiped it away.

Act normal. That's what he told himself.

He showered the mud off, changed into dry sleep clothes, re-taped the corner of his glasses where Gaiz had bent them. He ate half a cold bun from his drawer. He laid out his uniform for morning duty.

Normal. Normal. Normal.

But under his shirt, his necklace pulsed once, warm — like a second heartbeat.

Xyan pressed his palm to it and whispered to the empty room, "Not yet."

He turned off the light and pretended to sleep, listening to the dorm breathe around him, holding his secret tight.

Tomorrow he'd mop floors. Tomorrow he'd get stared at. Tomorrow he'd be 2% again.

But tonight, for the first time in weeks, he wasn't crying.

He was waiting.

6:50AM. HOSTEL ROOM. BLOCK H.

Xyan woke up and decided: nope.

Not today. No mopping. No Gaiz. No stares. No "yeah, that's him."

He locked his dorm door, pulled the blanket over his head, and declared it a problem-free day.

Problem was...

His room was a disaster.

He hadn't cleaned it since... ever. Mop bucket in the corner, overflowing. Old juice boxes Dain had given him stacked on the desk. Uniforms on the floor. Dust on the slate charger.

He stared at it from under the blanket for a long time. Then sighed, got up, and started picking things up — slowly, no Flex, just hands. It felt good to do something no one could mock him for.

Fold. Sweep. Wipe. The taped glasses slipped down his nose while he worked.

Meanwhile, across campus —

Sen was drowning.

Not in the swimming pool. Not in training.

In girls.

They'd cornered him outside the mess hall — three second-years, two first-years, all talking at once, touching his sleeve, laughing too loud.

"Sen, you were so cool yesterday!"

"Are you going to the mixer?"

" What time are you heading to the cafeteria Master Sen?"

"Can I have your slate ID?"

They wanted to swallow him up whole. Sen smiled that perfect, tired smile, nodded politely, while his brown eyes kept drifting past them toward the east wing.

All he wanted was to talk to Onix.

Onix was in the Raymond Training Center, alone, running drills. Sweat darkening her white shirt, jaw tight. She hadn't answered Sen's messages in two days — not since Xyan's video blew up.

Sen finally excused himself — "Sorry, conditioning" — and slipped away, heading for Raymond.

Xyan, back in his now half-clean room, sat on his bunk surrounded by trash bags and felt... almost peaceful.

No problems. Just dust and quiet.

For one day, that was enough.

3:37 PM. DORM.

Cleaning up took him more than two hours...

But

Xyan finally finished.

Trash bagged. Floor swept. Desk wiped. Juice boxes lined up neatly — he couldn't throw Dain's away. He stared at the clean room for a second, proud in a stupid small way, then dived face-first straight onto his bed.

Thump.

"Problem-free," he mumbled into the pillow.

His stomach growled loud enough to answer. Real food. Not a cold bun.

He grabbed his slate and headed out to their cafeteria.

The long way took him past the Raymond Training Center — glass walls, heat shimmering off the runes. Inside he caught a glimpse: Sen leaning against the doorway trying to talk, Onix mid-drill ignoring him, sweat flying, and Kitarah on the side mats stretching, sharp eyes scanning.

Kitarah noticed him pass. Their eyes met for half a second through the glass. She paused — then just looked away, back to her stretch. No chase. No wave.

Xyan kept walking. Good.

The rest of the day was brutal: back-to-back serious lectures. Twenty of them. No breaks except water.

1. Flex Theory I: mapping core flow without burnout.

2. Flex Theory II: dual-channel circulation.

3. Recharge Mechanics: how sleep, food, and emotion affect recharge level.

4. Enhancement Math: calculating % boost vs. stamina cost.

5. Artifact Bonding: why artifacts reject incompatible users.

6. Summon Stability: holding a summon past 30 seconds.

7. Combat Footwork: pivoting under weight.

8. Defensive Wards: layering personal shields.

9. Offensive Release: controlled discharge drills.

10. Elemental Resonance: finding your natural affinity.

11. Alchemy Basics: Elixir-style potion triggers.

12. Amirah Seals: countering sun-magic.

13. Team Sync: matching recharge rhythms with a partner.

14. Pain Tolerance: staying conscious at 40% enhancement.

15. Tactical Retreat: when to yield to save Flex.

16. New Upgrades Lab: testing the wrist stabilizers that boost enhancement percentage by 5% but drain recharge faster.

17. Power Flex Calibration: live readings, adjusting output.

18. Recharge Level Drills: rapid 2-minute meditations to push from 60% to 80%.

19. Enhancement Sparring: 1v1 at capped 20% enhancement.

20. Night Review: professors grading progress logs.

Xyan didn't embarrass himself in any of them. He stayed quiet, took notes, kept his head down. He already had way too much 'fame' — he didn't need more.

After, he took the 30-minutes walk back to his dorm alone. The evening air was cool.

He showered. Hot water, steam fogging the mirror. When he stepped out, water dripped all over his hair, running down his neck, over his shoulders. He looked... different. Tired, but handsome in a clean, sharp way. Droplets caught on his eyelashes, his taped glasses fogged on the sink. For a moment, he didn't look like loafer boy. Just Xyan. Dangerously handsome Xyan.

He threw on a white baggie shirt and went to the shared kitchen to cook dinner.

He cooked neatly — washed vegetables first, rice measured, chicken sliced even. Healthy, simple, delicious-smelling: garlic, ginger, a little chili oil. He plated it just as it was served. Mouth watering and home-made.

That's when the door banged open.

Theo and three other dorm mates from other levels walked in mid-conversation — and stopped dead.

"...Is that food?"

They dropped their bags, abandoned their conversation mid-sentence, and dug in. Forks from the drawer, hands, no plates.

"Bro this is insane—"

"Who cooked this?!"

They all looked at each other. Xyan was just at the side chuckling very faintly at the scene.

" I know you can never cook bro, Quit staring at me." Theo looked at a guy with blue dyed hair at the tips named Arcix.

" Bro, you can't even boil water properly. A girl had to help you " Arcix defended.

" You two aren't capable of doing anything, you know. Only I am" Yeji smacked their heads.

The both of them immediately started lashing out on Yeji.

In two minutes, close to nothing was left.

Xyan just stood there with the empty pan, took the scraps — a little rice, a piece of chicken — and smiled. A real small smile.

He ate quietly while they argued over the last bite, then laced up his shoes.

A jog. Away from the dorm. Away from the noise.

He ran through the darkening campus, past the lecture halls, all the way to their manufacturing center — lights still on, machines humming.

He wasn't going in. He just stood outside, breathing hard, watching.

Problem-free day, almost over.

5:10 PM. MANUFACTURING CENTER. B SECTOR.

Xyan didn't just stand outside.

He went in.

The manufacturing center was mostly empty this late — just humming fabricators and the smell of hot metal. He badged in with his student ID, head down, and took a corner workbench where the light was dim.

He laid his necklace on the mat.

For an hour he worked in silence, tongue between his teeth, taped glasses slipping. He wasn't forging a weapon — he was carving a removable seal.

Tiny, precise runes etched into a small gold socket: one side to hold the gem from his necklace, the other to lock into the pommel of a katana. Twist left — necklace. Twist right — katana. Removable. Reversible.

His hands shook at first, then steadied. The work was delicate, and for once his 2% hands felt sure.

When the seal was done, he built something else: a small recharge and first aid kit. Just in case. Mini Flex battery, gauze, burn salve, a vial of clear recharge tonic. He packed it tight into a belt pouch.

He tested the seal once. Click. Gem out. Click. Gem in. Perfect.

His crystal blue eyes scanned his environment — empty aisles, blinking machines, no cameras on this bench — before he packed up to leave.

He was at the door when—

"Hey."

Xyan froze.

A voice from the shadows by the lockers.

Xyan slowly turned....