Lara shrugged, her expression unreadable as she leaned against the wall. "You're a prince, Lee. I don't expect you to marry some commoner like me. Do what you want." Her tone was neutral.
****
That night, when the maid arrived with a tray of roasted meat and fresh bread, her soft brown eyes shyly meeting his, Lee saw his chance. As she set the tray down, he took her hand gently, pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles. "Thanks for this," he said, flashing a smile. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink, her eyes darting away as she mumbled a reply and hurried out.
A system panel pinged:
*****
The next morning, Lee woke before dawn, his body sore but buzzing with determination. He dropped to the floor for his system-mandated workout, 100 push-ups, sit-ups, and chin-ups. His muscles protested, but the stat boosts were paying off; he felt faster, stronger, his movements less shaky than before. He wished he could see his gains, but this world didn't have mirrors, which was annoying as hell. An idea sparked, could he make one? He knew glass came from heating sand, mixed with something like CaO to stabilize it, but the exact heat and ratios were a mystery. A blacksmith could help him experiment, test different heat levels, and find the right mix.
At the academy, Lee floated the idea in engineering class. The teacher, his slick black hair gleaming under the lecture hall's chandeliers, raised an eyebrow but looked intrigued. "A reflective structure? Fascinating physics," he said, his voice smooth. "But you'll need to consult the alchemy teacher for the materials." After class, Lee tracked down Mr. Chang, a wiry old man with a mustache that looked like it could sweep the floor. His eyes lit up when Lee explained the mirror idea. "Silica sand's easy enough," Mr. Chang said, stroking his mustache. "I can find a stabilizing solution, but you'll need to figure out the heating and cooling process yourself." Lee nodded, his mind already racing with plans, feeling a spark of confidence that he could actually pull this off.
****
Two days later, Lee strode through the academy's bustling courtyard, his muscles straining slightly against the tight seams of his silk tunic, a testament to the grueling daily workout quests he'd been grinding through. His physique had transformed, his arms and chest filling out, the fabric hugging his frame in a way that made him feel like a new man. Hours spent kissing and sharing intimate moments with Lara in the privacy of his bedroom had not only left him buzzing with adrenaline but had also triggered the harem system's rewards, pumping his stats to levels he could barely believe.
The glowing system panel he'd checked that morning confirmed it: Strength: 30, Speed: 35, Agility: 27, Perception: 27. He wasn't the scrawny prince anymore, and the confidence surging through him felt like a high he couldn't shake.
In his hands, he carried a wooden box of fine silica sand, courtesy of Mr. Chang, for his mirror-making project, a plan to mix it with stabilizers and heat it just right, though he was still figuring out the details.
Lara walked beside him, her armor clinking softly, her dark curls bouncing with each step. Her presence was a steady anchor, but Lee's focus was split, his mind juggling thoughts of glass formulas and the thrill of his newfound strength.
The academy's cobblestone paths were crowded with students, their noble crests glinting under the midday sun, when a familiar figure shoved through the throng. Han, the Duke of Elery's smug son, rammed into Lee's shoulder, his muscular frame deliberate in its aggression.
The box of silica sand slipped from Lee's grip, crashing to the ground with a sickening crunch. Fine white sand spilled across the cobblestones, scattering like dust in the wind.
Lee's heart sank, his stomach twisting with dismay as he stared at the ruined sand. Hours of planning, gone in a second. Han's laughter cut through the air, sharp and mocking. "Still useless, Fireheart," he sneered, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he loomed over Lee. "What's that, your little science project? Pathetic."
Lee's blood boiled, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles whitened. The crowd's whispers buzzed around him, their eyes glinting with anticipation of another beatdown. He was done being Han's punching bag.
Without thinking, he swung a fist at Han's smug face, his arm fueled by raw anger and his boosted stats. Han dodged, his reflexes sharp, but his eyes widened, a flicker of shock betraying his usual cockiness. Lee's punch had been fast, too fast, grazing the air where Han's jaw had been a split second ago. The crowd gasped, their murmurs growing louder.
Han's smile returned, but it was tighter, less certain. "What, you tired of getting your ass handed to you, Lee?" he taunted, stepping back to regain his composure. "You think you're hot stuff now?"
Lee's chest heaved, his eyes locked on Han's. He wasn't the same weak prince who'd been slammed into a pillar two days ago. "If you're man enough, Han," he said, his voice low and steady, "let's do this hands only. No aura, no fancy tricks. Unless you're too much of a coward to fight fair." The words felt good, like a challenge he'd been holding back his whole life.
Lara stepped forward, her spear twitching in her grip, her dark eyes flashing with concern. "Lee, don't," she said, her voice sharp but low, meant for him alone. "He's not worth it."
Lee held up a hand, stopping her. "I got this, Lara," he said, his gaze never leaving Han. "What's it gonna be, man? You in or you scared?"
Han's smirk faltered, his jaw tightening. He wasn't thrilled about ditching his aura, his go-to crutch for dominating fights, but the crowd was watching, their eyes hungry for drama. Backing down would make him look weak, and Lee knew it. "Fine," Han spat, cracking his knuckles. "No aura. I'll still wipe the floor with you."
The crowd formed a loose circle around them, students whispering and nudging each other, their faces a mix of skepticism and excitement. "Lee's out of his mind," someone muttered. "Han's gonna crush him." Lee ignored them, his heart pounding but his focus razor-sharp, thanks to his jacked-up Perception.
Han struck first, his fist shooting toward Lee's face like a piston. Lee's Perception kicked in, his heightened senses catching the subtle twitch of Han's shoulder, the angle of his arm. He sidestepped, the punch whistling past his ear, the air brushing his cheek.