Reality Check
"Ughhh!! …Ah—fuck! Okay, yeah, that was a terrible idea."
I collapsed against the gym wall, gasping for air. Sweat clung to my skin like regret.
I knew it would hurt—I just didn't think it'd hurt this much.
But hey, at least I wasn't passed out on the floor. That had to count for something. Progress, right?
The thing is… enhancing muscle recovery didn't mean the soreness vanished. It just meant I'd be slightly less miserable slightly faster.
Which, at the moment, felt like getting punched in the face and being told, "Don't worry, the swelling won't last more than a day."
I groaned and slid further down the wall, practically melting into the floor.
My limbs felt like noodles. Shaky, overcooked, angry noodles.
God, why didn't I pay more attention during health class?
This wasn't even weightlifting. It was barely above waving at someone for too long.
For a second, I genuinely wondered if I was just… stupid.
But no. I was smart. People told me that all the time.
