Sanchez leaned back in his chair, regarding Hugo with a mix of amusent and seriousness that could only an one thing—he was about to perform what he called "The ntorship Ritual."
This wasn't just so casual pep talk; no, Sanchez took ntorship like it was a sacred duty, as if he were about to train the next Jas Bond.
He was about to pass on his sacred knowledge, so he had to find a worthy disciple!
He folded his arms, narrowing his eyes at Hugo as if sizing up a prized racehorse that had sohow gotten lost and ended up at a petting zoo.
"Alright, Hugo," Sanchez began, his voice low and intense. "Before we even start, I need to know everything about you. I'm talking habits, quirks, vices—anything that could derail your rizz journey. And no sugar-coating it. I need the raw, unfiltered truth."
Hugo blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.
"Uh, well... I an, I'm pretty average, I guess? I read a lot of webnovels, eat a lot of junk food... I once ate an entire pizza in one sitting. Oh, and I'm not exactly great with eye contact. Or any contact. And then there's the, uh, sweating problem—"
Sanchez held up a hand, silencing him with a single raised eyebrow. "Alright, let's start there. First question: How many hours a day do you spend reading webnovels?"
Hugo hesitated, knowing that the truth would probably earn him a lecture. "Uh... maybe... six? Sotis more on weekends?"
He couldn't be blad. Reading novels was so much more enjoyable than socializing! It was his only escape from reality!
Sanchez scribbled sothing down on an imaginary notepad. "Six hours a day, you say? Interesting. That's six hours a day you could be out in the real world, you know, interacting with actual human females. Next question: How often do you eat vegetables?"
Hugo scratched his head. He felt like Sanchez's questions were a little weird. What does eating vegetables have to do with getting chicks?
Still, he answered with as much seriousness as he could currently muster.
"Vegetables? Uh, do French fries count?"
"No, Hugo. Fries do not count as vegetables. Not in this world, or any other."
"Then... almost never? Unless soone forces ."
Sanchez shook his head, looking as if he were speaking to a lost cause. "We'll work on that. Next up, how many tis have you watched Love Actually? Be honest."
Hugo's face flushed. "W-What does that have to do with anything?"
"Everything, Hugo. Everything."
"Uh... four tis?"
"Four tis too many." Sanchez sighed deeply, as if the weight of Hugo's hopelessness were a burden he'd have to carry alone. "Last question, and this one's crucial: When was the last ti you washed your sheets?"
Hugo looked away, his face turning a shade of pink that suggested he hadn't seen the bottom of his bed in months. "I... I'm not sure. Maybe a few weeks ago?"
In his defence, he had just moved into his new dorm!
Sanchez pinched the bridge of his nose, as if trying to ward off a migraine. "Alright, Hugo. We've got a lot of work to do. But don't worry, we'll start small. Baby steps. First, clear your schedule for this Saturday. We'll begin your training at precisely 10:00 a.m. sharp. Be there, or remain forever the guy who got knocked out at a freshman party."
Hugo nodded eagerly, feeling a strange mix of excitent and terror. "I'll be there. I promise. But... what about the hospital bills? I an, I got beat up pretty bad..."
Sanchez waved a hand dismissively. "Already taken care of. Consider it an investnt in your future, one where you hopefully won't get your arse kicked so easily. But I have to say, Hugo, I didn't think it was possible to lose a fight that badly without at least so effort. Bravo."
Hugo cringed, feeling his pride—what little there was—shrivel up and die. Sanchez wasn't even there! "Thanks... I think."
With a final smirk, Sanchez got up to leave, pausing at the door to give Hugo one last look. "Oh, and Hugo? Try not to get into any more fights before next Saturday. I can't keep bailing you out."
As Sanchez swaggered out of the room, Hugo was left alone with his thoughts. He gingerly got out of bed, his body still aching, and made his way to the small mirror hanging on the wall.
He stared at his reflection, his mind whirling with a barrage of thoughts and comparisons.
Sanchez was the embodint of confidence and charm, like so kind of genetically engineered heartthrob. anwhile, Hugo looked like he'd been assembled from leftover parts at a Build-A-Bear workshop.
"Maybe I just need a little... boost," Hugo muttered, rembering the welco package he'd received earlier from the system.
He'd been too distracted by the crazy events that followed to consider the other options, but now, the idea of adding a stat point to his looks seed like the perfect solution.
What would happen if he used it? Would it make him more handso?
Hugo didn't want to believe sothing like that was real. But staring at the pink, hologram screen of the system, he felt it could be possible.
"System, I add my stat point to my looks," Hugo declared, puffing up his chest as if he were making a life-changing decision.
[Ding! Allocating free stat point to looks.]
The mont he saw this ssage, he slapped his cheeks and stared at his reflection intently.
He was determined to look less like a poorly drawn caricature and more like soone who could at least pass as a background character in a rom-com.
The mont the system activated, Hugo felt a sharp, searing pain in his face, as if soone were trying to sculpt his features with a chainsaw.
He clutched his head, grimacing as the agony intensified, radiating through his skull and down his neck.
"Why... does it hurt... so much?!" Hugo gasped, tears streaming down his face as he writhed in pain. It was like a terrible beauty treatnt that had been designed by the Marquis de Sade.
For the next three hours, Hugo experienced an excruciating transformation.
His face twisted and contorted as the system reshaped his features, each tweak sending a fresh wave of agony through his nerves. It felt like his bones were being rearranged, his skin stretched and pulled in all directions.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the pain subsided, leaving Hugo panting and drenched in sweat.
He staggered over to the mirror, half-expecting to see a horror movie monster staring back at him.
But when he looked, Hugo blinked in surprise.
He actually looked... better.
His jawline was sharper, his skin a bit clearer, and his nose had lost that unfortunate crookedness. He was still recognisably Hugo, but a slightly upgraded version—a Hugo 2.0, if you will.
Hugo grinned at his reflection, wincing slightly as the movent pulled at his newly sculpted cheeks. "Well, I'll be damned... It actually worked."
As he admired his new appearance, a thought crossed his mind: If this was just one stat point, what could he achieve with more? Hugo's grin widened, and for the first ti in ages, he felt a glimr of hope.
"Maybe I really do have a chance," he whispered to himself, the mory of Sanchez's mocking words still fresh in his mind.
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