Louis Casper’s First (and Hopefully Last) Lip Lock

I woke up slowly.

Not in panic.

Not scrambling to check if my blanket was still there.

Not listening for footsteps that meant someone stronger had decided today that I didn’t deserve to eat.

Just… awake.

Warm.

Rested.

No fear of losing anything while I slept.

That alone felt unreal.

I stared at the ceiling for a moment, then exhaled.

“…Right. Strength training.”

According to the system, I had exactly two options that wouldn’t kill me.

Hard labor.

Bodyweight training.

No weapons.

No sparring.

No heroic nonsense.

I lowered myself to the floor of my room and stared at it for a moment.

“Push-ups,” I said.

The floor stared back.

I placed my hands down and attempted my first one.

My arms shook violently.

My body descended approximately three centimeters.

Then gravity won.

My face met the floor.

Kiss.

DING!

[Achievement Unlocked]

Louis Casper’s First (and Hopefully Last) Lip Lock

Target: Floor

Romantic Interest: None

Dignity: Lost

“…Shut up,” I muttered into the carpet.

The system did not apologize.

Second try.

I fell again.

But this time—

I didn’t kiss the floor.

Progress.

Third try.

I won.

One push-up.

My arms screamed like I was committing a crime against them, but I did it.

Then again.

Fourth.

My vision blurred.

Fifth.

My body collapsed.

I lay there, unable to feel my arms anymore. They had officially resigned.

DING!

[Strength EXP +0.02]

I stared at the notification.

“…That’s it?”

My arms twitched weakly in protest, as if to say we nearly died for this.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I whispered.

“You chose this life.”

The system remained silent.

After that, I meditated.

At around fifteen minutes in, I finally felt it—mana.

Faint. Thin. But real.

Around 1 hour later

I did

[Mana +0.1]

“…Less than yesterday,” I muttered.

Figures.

After medication, I headed to the dining hall.

Slowly.

Because my arms were still considering legal action against me.

The doors opened.

And I stopped.

The dining hall was… large.

No—unnecessarily large.

A long table stretched across the room, polished to the point I could see my exhausted reflection in it. Chandeliers hung above like they were judging my posture.

And the food—

I froze

It wasn’t just food.

It was art.

Golden bread arranged like sculptures.

Meat glazed until it shined.

Vegetables cut so precisely they looked offended by imperfection.

Steam rose gently, carrying a rich aroma that wrapped around me.

It smelled… warm.

Comforting.

Real.

My stomach growled loud enough to betray every ounce of dignity I had left.

“…This is food?” I muttered.

At the orphanage, meals were something you endured.

Here—

The smell alone felt like it could heal emotional trauma.

I took one step forward.

Then another.

By the time I reached the table, I was already exhausted.

I sat down carefully, like the chair might attack me too.

“…Alright,” I whispered.

“Let’s see what nobles eat to grow this arrogant.”

I tore a piece of bread.

It was… soft.

Too soft.

At the orphanage, bread like this didn’t exist.

Bread there was a weapon—hard enough to knock someone down if you swung it properly.

…I wasn’t exaggerating.

I chewed.

Warm.

Slightly sweet

At the orphanage, bread tasted like survival.

This one tasted like it expected to be enjoyed.

As I ate, a familiar presence entered my vision.

The butler.

Tall. Straight-backed. Hair neatly combed, as if discipline itself had taken human form.

He noticed me.

Our eyes met.

“…Good morning,” I said.

My voice came out softer than I expected.

The butler paused for half a second—just enough to be noticeable.

Then he inclined his head.

“Good morning, young master.”

Polite. Proper. Distant.

Above his head, a number floated calmly.

-9

And beneath it—

[Re-evaluation Available In:]

6 days 4 hours 49 minutes 13 seconds

“…So this is cooldown,” I murmured.

Not hatred.

Not warmth.

He didn’t even acknowledge my existence.

Which, considering my current standing, made him my closest ally.

I picked up the bread again.

Still warm.

Still unfairly soft.

And for the first time since waking up in this body, I ate without feeling like someone might take it from me.

The butler watched silently.

And for just a moment—

I wondered if that -9 had ever been lower.

Then—

The air changed.

I felt it before I saw her.

Footsteps—measured, unhurried—approached from the far end of the hall. Servants straightened almost instinctively. The butler turned his attention forward.

And then—

She arrived.

My mother.

Seraphina casper

Long crimson hair, it was tied neatly behind her back. Not a strand dared escape. Her posture was flawless, her movements restrained, as if elegance itself were a habit drilled into her bones.

Her eyes a cold sapphire blue eyes glanced across the table once before settling into indifference.

She didn’t look at me.

She took her seat at the head of the table with practiced grace.

Above her head, a number appeared.

-59

No flicker.

No hesitation

I swallowed.

She lifted her napkin, unfolded it slowly, and finally spoke.

“You’re eating.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Yes,” I replied.

She glanced at me then—briefly.

Her eyes didn’t hold anger

That would’ve been easier.

They held exhaustion.

They held disappointment

You’re usually louder, she said. “More demanding.”

I set the bread down carefully.

“I know,” I said.

The servants froze.

Even the butler stiffened.

I met her gaze.

"Mother"a pause

"No lady Seraphina"

“I know you hate me.”

Her hand paused—just for a fraction of a second.

“I know my past actions were unforgivable.”

The number didn’t move.

“I know I’m a walking reminder of your husband’s betrayal.”

The words settled heavily in the room.

An illegitimate son.

Everyone here knew it.

The child born from the same father—but not her womb.

A living stain she was forced to acknowledge, but never accept.

A person born out of lust

Silence pressed down on the table.

“I know ,” I continued quietly.

“So I’m sorry. For all the stupid things I did for trying to earn your affection affection I was never meant to have.”

Her eyes narrowed—not in rage, but confusion.

“I’m entering the academy soon,” I said.

“I’ll be staying in the dormitory.”

I lowered my head slightly.

“I’ll remove myself from your life.”

For the first time—

She truly looked at me.

“…Is this another act?” she asked.

“No,” I replied. “I’m tired.”

The -59 remained.

But something else appeared beneath it.

[Re-evaluation Available In:]

6 days 4 hours 49 minutes 13 seconds

I didn’t notice.

I stood up.

Carefully.

Because my legs were still weak.

“Thank you for the meal,” I said.

And for once—

I left the table without being told to.

At the orphanage, I used to wonder—

What is a mother?

What was she supposed to be?

I still don’t know.

And judging by Louis’s memories…

Neither did he.

I walked back to my room slowly, muscles still whining in protest.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I decided it was time to… check the system.

The blue screen blinked to life instantly.

All the stats I’d glanced at yesterday were there again—Strength, Endurance, Agility, Charisma, Mana, and, of course, Luck.

I scrolled through them carefully:

[STRENGTH – 5.02| Growth: Normal | ]

[ENDURANCE – 4.1| Growth: Poor]

[AGILITY – 6 | Growth: Below Average]

[CHARISMA – 3 | Growth: Severely Low]

[MANA – 4.3 | Growth: Slightly Stable]

[LUCK – -12 | Status: Cursed]

I exhaled, watching the numbers flicker gently.

“…Still pathetic,” I muttered. “But at least I survived breakfast without collapsing. That’s progress.”

A small note appeared beside Strength:

→ Remember: Push-ups are effective, dignity is optional.

I smirked. The system really liked reminding me I had none.

Luck… -12. Yep, the universe was still actively conspiring against me.

And then there it was—the only stat that made me pause. Endurance: 4. Poor.

I ran a hand through my hair. “So stairs are still my mortal enemy. Great.”

I leaned back, staring at the ceiling again. “Alright, system. Let’s keep this consistent. No heroic nonsense, no sudden death… for now.”

The screen blinked, silent.

Of course. Silent, judgmental, and entirely unhelpful.

I closed it and leaned against the wall. A small, genuine smile crept onto my face. For the first time in a long while… I wasn’t terrified. I was tired, sore, and humiliated, but… I was awake, alive,

There was half a month left before the academy entrance.

Fifteen days.

That wasn’t much.

“I need better stats,” I muttered.

“At the very least, I need to walk without feeling like I’m fighting for my life.”

Endurance first.

Then strength.

And most importantly

“I need to unlock weapon handling.”

The academy test wasn’t about talent.

It was about not dying.

If I couldn’t even block properly, I’d be sent home—or worse, humiliated publicly.