Resonance Harem: I Level Up Through Sincerity

I should have known today was going to be garbage the second my shoelace snapped.

I was crouched on the curb outside Titan Gym, trying to knot the frayed end back together, when a familiar voice cut through the chatter of afternoon traffic.

“Well, if it isn’t Evan the Errand Boy.”

I didn’t even have to look up to see Marcus Hale, my personal middle-school nightmare in adult, protein-powdered form. The guy had been bench-pressing my dignity since we were twelve. Now he owned Titan Gym and apparently a whole new collection of smug expressions.

I stood slowly, clutching the cardboard drink tray with four lattes that were not mine. 

“Marcus,” I said, aiming for casual. It came out somewhere between a cough and a mouse squeak.

He gave me a once-over. “Still running deliveries? Man, I thought you’d have upgraded by now.”

A couple of his gym bros loitered behind him, arms folded to make their biceps look like small planets.

The gym’s glass door swung open, letting out two guys in matching compression shirts. One glanced at Marcus, did a double-take like he had just spotted a Marvel actor doing a guest appearance, then looked at me with that ‘who let this guy in here?’ face.

Through the front desk window, the receptionist pretended to be on the phone, but her knuckles were pressed against her mouth, shoulders twitching in barely contained laughter.

It hit me like a time warp straight back to high school, standing in the hallway, books clutched to my chest, locked in place while the entire corridor watched the slow-motion collapse of my dignity.

One of Marcus’ gym bros leaned toward the other, loud enough for me to hear, and muttered, “Total beta energy.”

The other didn’t even try to hide his laugh, just let it burst out in a short, sharp snort before smirking at me like he had just won a prize.

Out of the corner of my eye, one of the bros slouched his shoulders, let his arms dangle, and shuffled a few limp steps in a dead-on parody of my posture.

Someone inside the gym called Marcus’ name, but he didn’t move. Just stayed planted in front of me, that slow grin spreading. Apparently, today’s workout wasn’t chest day but humiliate Evan day.

I told myself not to rise to it. Just hand off the coffee order to the receptionist inside and leave.

But my mouth? Yeah, it decided today was open-mic roast night.

I met Marcus’s eyes and let my voice go nice and casual. “Some of us don’t need to scream like we’re passing a kidney stone just to convince the room we’re lifting something heavy.”

Ooh. Sick burn, Evan. I could practically hear my self-esteem rolling its eyes.

One of his bros actually choked on his protein shake. The other’s smirk faltered like I had just drop-kicked his childhood dog.

Marcus stepped closer, his shadow cutting across me. “Say that again?”

My brain scrambled for a reply but found nothing but static. The old familiar freeze crept in. I hated this. Hated me for being like this.

He plucked a latte from the tray, took a slow sip, and set it back, foam dripping down the lid. 

“Next time, bring a protein shake,” he said, hitting my shoulder.

I stumbled half a step back from the hit and tried to play it off, shifting my weight like I had totally meant to do that. Through the glass wall, two guys at the squat rack paused mid-rep to watch, grins stretching wider with every second.

A woman in neon leggings brushed past me toward the door, muttering “excuse me” in the same flat tone you would use for a stray shopping cart blocking the aisle.

I set the drink tray down on the reception counter without a word. The receptionist didn’t even look up. Fine. I turned and walked out before I could make this circus any sadder.

By the time I got back to the dispatch office, my manager was waiting with crossed arms and a vein doing calisthenics in his forehead.

“Evan,” he said, “did you mouth off to a client?”

I blinked. “What? No! That was—”

“Marcus called. Said you were rude.” He thrust an envelope into my chest. “We can’t afford to lose business. You’re done here.”

I just… stared at him. “You’re firing me? Over him?”

“Over your attitude,” he corrected and turned away like that was the end of it.

“Marcus started it. It was just a joke,” I blurted, hearing how thin it sounded even as it left my mouth.

My boss didn’t even turn around. He just kept typing like I had already left the building.

At the next desk, one of my coworkers gave me a quick pity-eyebrow raise, then immediately looked back at his monitor like eye contact might be contagious.

I glanced down, realizing I was still gripping the envelope. The paper crumpled in my fist. For a second, I considered lobbing it into the trash. Cathartic… or just pathetic?

And just like that, my second job in three months went up in smoke. Minimum wage, zero savings, and apparently a talent for pissing off people bigger than me.

The sky had the decency to wait until I was halfway home before it started raining. Not a polite drizzle but one of those sudden downpours that feels personal, like the weather’s been waiting all day to ruin your afternoon.

I ducked under an awning, fumbling for my phone to check the bus schedule. The screen flickered once, twice… then everything went white.

The smell of ozone curled through the rain, sharp and electric, threading into every breath. The hairs on my arms prickled upright, and a faint metallic tang coated my tongue like I had just licked a dead battery. Don’t ask how the fuck I know how that taste…

The white light swelled until it felt like it was pushing the rest of the world back, leaving only the thud of my heartbeat in my ears.

For one wild second, I actually thought maybe Marcus had hired a hitman with a flashbang.

A sound like a camera flash cranked to eleven punched through my skull.

When my vision stopped screaming, my phone was in my hand, but the screen wasn’t cracked or fried. It was… glowing.

[NEXUS SYSTEM BOOT COMPLETE]