cursedgamer1
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Chapter 30: Life is a game
🕑 Added 2025-09-07 12:08:30 +0000 UTCEmpire State University, Library, After Classes:
“Thanks, Gwen. I don’t know what I would have done without you,” I said to Gwen gratefully. “I am now sure to pass the Maths exam at least.”
“Oh, come on, Kevin, you would have done fine even without me,” Gwen reassured. “Your grip on the subject is already solid; you just need to continue practicing more problems like you did yesterday, and I am sure you will do much better than just passing the exam.”
We had our next study session after classes. Compared to yesterday, Gwen looked visibly more accustomed to being with me.
A welcome change.
“Whatever, you say, Gwen,” I looked directly in her eyes, “But I know that it is all because of your help. So, thanks, Gwen. You are a great friend.”
Gwen looked a little bashful as I praised her without shame.
“So have you thought about it?” I asked, changing the subject.
Gwen tilted her head in confusion. “Thought about what?”
“Of course,” I said with a smirk, “Your codename.”
“Codename?” Gwen looked even more confused. “For what?”
“Of course, if you want to start your career as a potential superhero or supervillain, you will need a codename,” I explained. “You know, like Spider-Man, or what did that old baldy call himself, yeah, Vulture.”
Gwen’s smile dropped.
“Kevin, that was a one-time thing. I have no interest in becoming a superhero,” Gwen said, shaking her head. Then she showed a slight look of anger and said, “And what do you mean by supervillain?”
I immediately raised my hands in front to try to placate her. “Relax. I wasn’t labeling you. Just… leaving the door open.”
Gwen sighed and said, “I have no interest in becoming a superhero, and especially not a supervillain.”
“Hmm, ok. I respect that. But why do you say that that was a one-time thing?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Gwen heard the question and averted her gaze from me. Her face suddenly showed some guilt and shame. It looked conflicted.
“It was a one-time thing because it was. There is no other reason,” Gwen muttered, but she still didn’t look at me.
“That’s not an answer, that’s just repeating yourself,” I said sternly, leaning in. “You are not explaining, just deflecting.”
“What else do you want me to say, Kevin?” Gwen snapped. Her voice was much louder than before.
The nearby students all looked at her, some with annoyance, some with blame. Gwen quickly realized her mistake. Her face turned red in embarrassment, and she hurriedly apologized to the students and the librarian, who was also looking at her with a stern gaze.
The librarian gave Gwen a last warning stare and went back to reading her book.
“What else do you want me to say, Kevin?” Gwen repeated. Her voice was much subdued now.
“The truth,” I said softly, leaning in.
Gwen looked stunned, and then once again averted her eyes. Her face again showed conflicting emotions.
“You just said yesterday that you had fun,” I said, looking disappointed. “Then why are you lying again?”
I waited for a beat, then continued, “Why are you lying to yourself, Gwen?”
“Did you forget the freedom you felt yesterday?”
“Did you forget the rush of swinging among the skyscrapers?”
“Did you forget the first time in your life you felt truly alive?”
Each question increased the conflict on her face. Each question was an arrow piercing her heart.
“I am afraid, Kevin,” Gwen finally spoke. Her voice was lower than a murmur.
“Afraid of failing my dad’s expectations.”
“Afraid of becoming what he hates.”
“Afraid of losing myself if I start having too much fun with my powers.”
“Afraid that if I started, I won’t know where to stop.”
I took her hand gently between mine. Her cheeks flared red, but she didn’t pull away.
“Gwen,” I said, voice low and steady, “I’m glad you trust me enough to say that.”
Her eyes finally lifted to mine.
“Gwen, you feel afraid because you carry too many expectations on your shoulders,” I said in a low voice.
Gwen wanted to argue, but found no words to counter me.
“Not just that, you are afraid because you think you are alone,” I said, looking deeply in her eyes.
“You don’t have to go through this on your own, Gwen. I’m your friend, and if you ever feel torn, please don't hesitate to come to me. I’ll be there to help, no matter what,” I said sincerely.
“Will you?” Gwen asked, looking expectant, her voice slightly choking. Faint tears appeared in her eyes.
“Yes,” I nodded with a gentle smile.
A small smile appeared on her face. But it went as soon as it came.
“Why?” Gwen asked, suspicious. As expected from a police captain’s daughter.
“Why, of course, because I am your friend,” I answered easily. “As a friend, it is my duty to help my friend in need.”
“Really?” Gwen asked skeptically.
“Really.” I nodded with a smile.
“But, there is one more reason,” I said mysteriously and paused.
Gwen showed an expression as if to say, "As expected."
“What is it?”
I smiled. “Won’t it be fun to be a sidekick to a superpowered person? Even if I don’t have powers, won’t it be equally fun to help you from the shadows?”
Gwen looked stunned by my answer, then started laughing.
“Thanks, Kevin,” Gwen said sincerely.
I smiled, but then my face turned serious. Gwen stopped laughing and looked at me in confusion.
“Now, be honest with me, Gwen,” I asked seriously. “Do you still want it to be a one-time thing? If so, I promise to never bother you about it again. But whatever you answer, please be honest.”
Gwen didn’t answer. It seemed as though she was engaged in an internal battle between opposing ideologies.
After what felt like centuries, Gwen spoke.
“No,” Gwen said, looking hesitant. But soon the hesitation dissolved, giving rise to a resolve of steel. “No, I don’t want it to be a one-time thing.”
I grinned. “Cool.”
“But I don’t know what to do with my powers,” she admitted. “I’m not ready to be a superhero, but—”
“Or a supervillain,” I teased.
She shoved me with a laugh. “Absolutely not, you jerk.”
“So how about this?” I asked. Gwen looked at me with curiosity.
“You can use your powers for fun or whatever you want to do. And at the same time, you can also work as a masked vigilante if you want to help others,” I suggested. “Just like that new red-costumed guy who is sometimes mentioned in the news nowadays.”
Gwen didn’t refuse me outright this time and started thinking it over deeply.
I waited for her patiently.
Finally, she nodded with a smile. “I like that idea.”
Then a mischievous smile tugged at her lips. “And I don’t mind having a sidekick.”
We both laughed, but I was the only one who knew how much of a victory it really was.
We talked for a while, discussing potential names and suits. We didn’t conclude, as Gwen said she was unsure what to choose, since she had never given those things much thought.
In the end, we decided to let Gwen think about what she wanted first, and then we could discuss it again.
I left the library and headed to my first class at the Chikara Dojo.
On the way, I was bored, so I checked the radio for something interesting to listen to.
And unexpectedly landed on her, once again, as she read another news report in her characteristic deadpan voice.
“In today’s news that somehow qualifies as news, Johnny Storm—yes, that Johnny Storm, the one who can spontaneously combust without a criminal record—is back in the headlines. Not for saving lives. Not for stopping a crime. No, for doing what he does best: setting the gossip columns on fire.”
“The Human Torch was spotted last night leaving a rooftop party with a B-list actress, two A-list egos, and at least three restraining orders waiting to happen. Sources say this is his fourth ‘relationship’ this month. Fifth, if you count the one he allegedly had with a mirror.”
“Meanwhile, he’s reignited—pun absolutely intended—a feud with alt-rock frontman Zeke Venom after calling his latest single ‘music for people who think showering is a personality.’ Zeke responded by threatening to throw a flaming guitar off a balcony. Honestly, that sounds like foreplay in Johnny’s world.”
“PR reps for both sides have declined to comment, possibly because they’ve passed out from secondhand embarrassment.”
“As for Mr. Storm, no official statements yet—though he did post a shirtless selfie this morning with the caption: ‘Too hot to handle. Literally.’ And yes, he included a fire emoji. Twice.”
“This is Jenna Volt, Channel 7 and a Half—reminding you: being on fire doesn’t automatically make you interesting. But in Johnny’s case… somehow, it helps.”
I couldn’t help chuckling at the brutal roast.
Chikara Dojo:
I stood in front of the Chikara Dojo. I took a deep breath as I prepared myself for another act.
Lights. Camera. Action.
As I stepped into the dojo, everyone’s eyes were on me. The students viewed me with open hostility, especially those who were thrashed by me yesterday. Meanwhile, Colleen merely gave me an impassive glance.
I maintained an arrogant expression as I flipped Brian the middle finger. His jaw clenched, body tensing like he’d pounce, but a glance from Colleen stopped him. But the rage and humiliation still burned in his eyes.
I gave him a mocking smile and walked toward Colleen as if I owned the place.
“Sensei, what’s he doing here?” Brian asked.
“Yes, Sensei. Didn’t you kick his ass yesterday? Why is he back?” Another student asked, confused.
Darryl smirked. “Maybe he’s a masochist. Got beat so hard he unlocked a new fetish.”
Listening to him, all the students started laughing.
I turned to him and smirked. “It seems you are in a good mood today. Wanna have a rematch? Maybe you can last longer than two seconds this time.”
That shut him up.
“Quiet,” Colleen said, soft but sharp. The students obeyed instantly.
“He is a new student of the dojo, starting today,” Colleen announced.
I raised a hand in mock greeting. “Howdy, y’all. Name’s Kevin Kolt. Looking forward to learning with all of you.”
The students looked visibly tense as they heard it.
“But why, Sensei? He was so disrespectful yesterday,” Brian objected. Of course, it was Brian.
“He showed the will to learn,” Colleen replied.
Before Brian could argue, Colleen interjected, “No more arguments. Everyone, get back to practice.”
I wondered what Colleen would teach me on the first day. But after warming up, she just told me to assume the horse stance.
I didn’t know when she got a wooden stick and came near me as I stood in the horse stance.
She hit the stick on my thigh and ordered me to lower my thighs more. I did it, but she hit me again and ordered me to lower myself even further. It continued until my thighs were parallel to the ground.
Then she left me like that and started teaching the other students.
From time to time, she would come near me and hit me on my arms or legs whenever my posture slipped.
My legs burned like fire, sweat dripping into my eyes, spine aching. Just when I thought my body would collapse, she gave me two minutes to rest.
At precisely the two-minute mark, Colleen ordered me to stand back in the horse stance. Just because I dawdled, another stick hit my arm.
Fuck.
Finally, after half an hour of practicing the horse stance, we were ready to move on. I looked like I had bathed, as my clothes were wet with sweat. My legs were burning and shaking, and it was difficult even to stand.
When Colleen gave me a five-minute break before starting the next exercise, I sat down immediately with the same intensity as a thirsty man running towards an oasis in the desert.
Unfortunately, the five minutes passed too soon. And Colleen hit me on the shoulder because I was too slow to get up.
Colleen put the stick aside and stood in a fighting stance. Looking at her, I understood it was time for sparring, or in other words, time for my thrashing.
I took a stance of my own. This time, she didn’t wait for me to come to her. She attacked me directly.
She reached in front of me before I could comprehend and struck a palm on my chest.
I knelt immediately and started coughing.
“Fifty pushups. Now,” she said flatly.
“What?” I asked, confused. Where did pushups appear between a sparring session?
“Every time you fail to dodge or block my attack, you will have to do fifty pushups,” Colleen said coolly.
My eyes widened. Is she fucking kidding me?
“Will you do the same if you fail to dodge or block my attack?” I asked in defiance.
“Of course, I will,” Colleen said, smiling for the first time in front of me.
I felt a shiver run down my spine. That smile looked like a devil’s smile.
I started doing the pushups. By the time I had completed fifty, my arms were feeling somewhat sore.
I got up and attacked her before she could attack me. She easily blocked my punch and drove her other fist into my guts. I folded like a shrimp.
I reeled in pain as I took a few deep breaths. Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain in my arm. Colleen had hit me again with the stick. When did she pick it up again?
“Stop dawdling, start the pushups.”
Fuck you too, bitch.
I once again served my sentence and then was ready to get my ass kicked again.
This time, she attacked first—a straight punch towards my left shoulder. I hurriedly took a step back, enough to be outside of her punch’s range. I dodged it.
Take that, you bitch.
But before I could start my victory dance, she kicked my ankle and I fell face down.
Fuck.
Just like that, she continuously pummeled me for half an hour straight. I dodged only one more attack and blocked another; both times, I was down on the second turn.
She allowed me a five-minute break, and I sprawled on the mat like a dead dog.
“What are you doing?” Colleen barked. “Meditate and reflect on our earlier spar. Analyze what you did wrong and how you can improve it.”
I groaned but got up, sat cross-legged, and closed my eyes. I took deep breaths to calm myself and started recalling our earlier spar.
My breathing calmed down after a minute as I took long, deep breaths. I recalled how comically I failed to block or dodge her attacks. It couldn’t even be called a fight; it was a one-sided beatdown.
Too many wasted movements. I had wasted too much time deciding on my next move. I was too slow to react to her attacks.
Of course, such things couldn’t improve just because I thought of improving them. It required continuous sparring and fighting to develop battle instincts, enabling me to react to my opponents' moves much more quickly.
Five minutes were up, and we were back to sparring. Once again, I was thrashed for another half an hour before being given a five-minute mercy.
I was feeling lightheaded, and my whole body was in pain.
I noticed that Brian was looking at me and laughing mockingly at my condition.
Laugh all you want. The day you reveal you are a Hand assassin will be the day I will tear you apart. And I will do my best to make it as painful as possible.
I ignored him and went back to meditating. This time, I had dodged one more attack than before. Small, but it was progress.
The students had already left, and we had completed the last sparring session.
After meditating for five minutes, I opened my eyes.
“Come inside,” Colleen said and started walking towards the inner part of the dojo.
“Take off your shirt and lie down,” Colleen said in a no-nonsense tone when we were inside.
I hesitated, thinking, what if Colleen decided to force herself on me? I would be powerless to resist.
So, I just obediently followed her orders and lay on the bed after taking off my shirt.
She brought a jar and opened it. It contained some kind of salve. She looked at my chest and raised her brow.
“Previously, I was suspicious. But now it is confirmed. Your injuries from yesterday are completely healed,” Colleen said, giving me a deep look. “Even with your recovery speed, it should not be possible. It should’ve taken at least a week.”
“Maybe I am just built differently,” I said, smirking. It was not like I could tell her it was the magic of my [Gamer’s Body] skill.
Her forehead wrinkled at my reply, but she didn’t press further. She came to me and started applying the salve on my bruises. I recognized it as the same one she had used the day before. I only noticed it once I reached my home and went to take a bath.
I groaned as the salve gave a burning sensation on my bruise.
“Stay still,” Colleen rebuked, but continued applying the salve.
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself not to twitch.
“I don’t like you,” Colleen said suddenly while applying the salve.
“Yeah, I can tell by the way you absolutely thrashed me in the spar earlier,” I smirked.
“I hate your guts,” Colleen continued.
“The feeling is mutual,” I said, wincing in pain as she applied the salve to another, even bigger bruise.
“You are just a delusional fool thinking you can get me just because you said so,” Colleen said while pressing a tad bit harder on the bruise while applying the salve.
“But I still want you as my subordinate,” I said arrogantly without flinching as the pressure increased slightly again. I refused to give her the satisfaction of that.
She paused and gave me a look. Her face was unreadable.
“But I like your resolve,” Colleen said after a few moments as she resumed the movement, this time with only necessary pressure. “That’s the only praiseworthy aspect about you.”
“Careful, lady. You'd better not fall in love with me, otherwise you may offer yourself to me before I can even defeat you,” I teased with a cocky smirk.
Her lips twitched, but she didn’t reply. We fell back to silence as she continued.
“It’s done. You can wear your shirt and leave,” Colleen said curtly.
I got up and put on my shirt.
I took out some bills from my pocket and handed them to Colleen, ”Here, my fees for the month with the premium.”
She took them with a frown and started counting. Her frown deepened as she finished counting the notes.
“This is too much,” Colleen said and tried to return the money. But I didn’t take it back.
“I am not like your other students, learning martial arts for fitness or self-defence,” I said with disdain. “I am learning it to learn how to kill and not get killed. For that, I think the money is appropriate.”
Colleen didn’t show any outward reaction to my reason to learn martial arts.
“Leave. Be on time tomorrow.” Then she turned and walked off.
I smirked as I left the dojo and headed home.
Kevin’s Home:
After coming back, I had a comfortable hot water bath. After changing my clothes, I started studying.
First, I completed the new maths problems Gwen assigned me earlier, and then revised the syllabus for the midterms.
Then, I took out one of the advanced programming books I borrowed from the library and started reading it.
As I read the book, I felt myself developing the related skill. I knew all this in my previous life, but I still needed to refresh my memory and do some practical training to retain it.
While I was working on a coding exercise, my phone rang. It was Gwen calling me. Curious, I picked up the call.
“Hey, Kevin,” Gwen said in a hesitant voice. “Sorry for calling so late. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
“Hey, Gwen. No, it’s no problem,” I said easily. “I just finished the maths problems you gave me and was taking a break. So, you didn’t disturb me.”
I could hear her sigh of relief from the other side.
“Actually, I was out, patrolling,” Gwen said.
“Really, that’s great,” I praised. “I am proud of you, Gwen.”
Even without seeing her, I could imagine her face heating at the praise.
“Thanks,” she said. “I was on a break and thought of calling you.”
“Anytime, Gwen. You can call me whenever you want.”
I leaned back in my chair. “So, tell me — how was it? Fun?”
“Yes, it was,” Gwen admitted, excitement bubbling in her tone. “Freely swinging in the air, looking down on the crawling vehicles on the road. It was too much fun.”
“Finally,” I said, grinning. “You’re being honest with yourself.”
“Did you get any vigilante action?” I asked.
“Yeah. Two thugs were beating a man. I scared them off, webbed them to a lamppost, and made sure the guy got away safe.”
“Nice. So how much did you earn?”
“…Earn?” She sounded confused.
“I mean, how much money did you get from the thugs?” I explained.
“Nothing?” Gwen said, confused.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t loot them after defeating them,” I sighed, as if she had done something foolish.
“Of course I didn’t!” she said, scandalized. “That would be stealing.”
I groaned loud enough to voice my frustration.
“Girl, if you don’t loot the body, then who will fund your vigilante career?” I said with frustration. “It’s not like the man whom you saved gave you money as gratitude for saving him. And don’t even say there is anything wrong with that. Even cops get paid for their job. They don’t do it for free.”
“No, the man didn’t,” Gwen said in a low voice. Then said, as if defending herself, “But I didn’t save him, expecting he would pay me in return.”
“I know, and that’s why I asked if you looted the thugs,” I said, matter-of-fact. She didn’t answer.
“That’s the rule no. 1 of gaming,” I continued. “ Always loot the defeated enemy.”
That finally cracked her; she laughed. “I’m not playing a game, Kevin.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Gwen.”
I leaned back in my chair, a smirk tugging at my lips.
“Life is a game.”
Comments
cursedgamer1
Someone has to teach her the meaning of life.
Yandere Supremacy
Young Master Kevin blessing Gwen with his divine wisdom on the art of looting
