The GameMaster's first message was less a friendly hello and more a cryptic demand etched in pixelated stone:
The Riddle of the Waking Day
Wake as you always do, and let the morning find you first.
Do not speak of what you dreamed—it was never there, yet it still waits.
Walk your path as if it were only yours. Answer when your name is called, and smile when the day remembers you.
Change nothing. Not your step, not your breath, not your thought.
For the mirror between days cracks when one pretends to be more than they are.
And when the sunlight touches your face, savor it—for in that same glow, another day begins for the one who wakes where heroes rise.
Followed by the numerical equivalent of a cosmic slap: "Day trials: 10/10."
Then came the next messages, like a digital countdown to doom: "Day trials: 9/10." and "Day trials: 8/10."
Seriously, GameMaster? My brain felt zombified, sleepless, and tired, yet you expected me to decipher ancient riddles while battling existential dread?
I'd read it twice, thrice, and probably more times than I'd ever willingly subjected myself to. "Do not speak of what you dreamed?" That was the key. I remembered trying to spill the beans to Carlos about the Isekai world, which apparently triggered the reset. That, and the time I fell from the stairs. I also had a sneaking suspicion that the last part of the riddle, "wakes where heroes rise," hinted at returning to the Isekai world when this loop was done. Easy enough, I thought. From this riddle, my understanding was clear: 1. I had to act like the Isekai transport never happened. 2. I had to behave exactly as I normally would. 3. This whole mess would end when the day concluded. If I was right, I still had eight more resets. Good thing I played puzzle games too, I mused, feeling a strange nostalgia for my childhood gaming days.
A plan began to crystallize in my sleep-deprived mind. I now understood the mechanics of this loop, and with eight resets technically available, I decided against a rushed finish. Instead, I'd spend these precious do-overs indulging in all the things I loved in this world before inevitably returning to that hellhole—which was now an absolute certainty. My mental checklist for these bonus days included: My friends, My computer, Mimi, adobo, and research. Then, before the day ended, I could just reset by intentionally breaking the rules of the riddle.
Man, if only I'd read these rules sooner, I lamented. I could have had two more resets! But hey, eight was better than none. The mechanics of the apple were so simple, almost too simple. Was it built this way for a reason? No use thinking this much, I decided.
That settled it. My first reset was for food. I marched straight into a high-end restaurant in Makati and, with the confidence of a man with infinite wallets, chose special adobo and kare-kare, along with whatever other dishes amounted to a month of my salary. Whoa, it was so damn delicious though, and yes, pricey. I ate like a barbarian who hadn't seen food in a day—savage, utterly without grace. I knew I wouldn't be full when the reset hit, but I'd remember the taste, the feeling. Food crossed out.
Alarm goes off.
Text number four: "Day trials: 7/10."
The next loop, I spent time just chatting with Carlos and the rest of my friends. The remainder of the day was dedicated to playing my favorite game on my home PC. Dinner was with my mom and brother. I never thought I'd missed them so much. It was quality time with my social circle, which, I realized, was smaller than I'd imagined. Loved ones crossed out.
Alarm.
Text number five: "Day trials: 6/10."
On this loop, I tried researching the Isekai world, but I didn't know where to begin. The internet, usually my oracle, was useless without specific keywords. I ended up watching YouTube videos about martial arts, how to use swords, and the proper way to throw a throwing knife, trying to mimic the moves with varying degrees of success. I also binged survival shows, attempting to cram all the information into my head like a full baggage that was already overflowing but I just kept stuffing more in.
Day trials: 6/10. Then 4/10. Then 2/10 and finally, 1/10.
"This is it," I told myself, the words heavy with finality. I woke up, sprang straight to the washroom, washed my face with a determined splash, and grabbed the paper bag containing Mimi's peace offerings. Then, with the focused intensity of a man on a mission, I went straight to Mimi's building and waited near the elevator.
Just as expected, Dennes materialized out of nowhere, dangerously close, like a personal, judgmental shadow. "She wouldn't like that!" he declared, already dissecting my intentions.
"Oh, hi there Dennes, nice to see you too," I replied, oozing sarcasm.
"She's way," he began, launching into his usual diatribe. But I was ready. I slapped my hand over his face before he could continue, pushing him slowly. He slid across the polished floor, his shoes squeaking, an ungraceful ballet. "No Dennes, no swiping," I said, a line from a kids' TV show popping into my head, effectively cutting him off.
Ding! The elevator arrived. And there she was. Mimi. She was with Cassy, her friend who, for some reason, harbored a personal vendetta against my very existence. As Mimi moved, my world went full slo-mo. She walked gracefully, her brown hair swaying, almost sparkly under the fluorescent lights, her high heels clacking a rhythm that sounded suspiciously like a heroic theme song.
My brain, which usually worked like a well-oiled machine (if that machine was perpetually low on oil), nudged me. Hey, do your move now, like how we practiced, before it's too late. The slow motion vanished, leaving me standing there, probably drooling slightly. "Here goes nothing!" I took a deep, fortifying breath and started towards her. "Mimi!" I called out. Both she and Casey stopped, turning to look.
Casey was about to launch her usual verbal assault, but I intercepted. I placed my finger to her lips, a dramatic "shhhh" escaping my own. She was utterly surprised, her eyes wide with shock.
"I'm sorry for being a ghosting jerk for the past couple of days," I began, my voice a little trembly, a little too sincere. "I was busy, but you're right, I should have chatted with you." As I spoke, I tremblingly picked the dusty rose and the chocolates from the paper bag.
People around us stopped, turning to look in our direction. A hushed silence descended upon the usually bustling corridor, awfully unnerving, cut only by the gentle *whoosh* of the elevator doors closing.
"I don't have a valid reason to clear my name, but please accept these as my sorry." Her face, already a delicate blush, deepened to a charming crimson. So cute! I slowly handed over my peace offering. And then, it was time for my secret weapon. I knelt on one knee. Mimi was not ready for this. Gasps and whispers erupted from the onlookers. She was too shocked by my dramatic gesture to react properly. Please work, please work, please work, my internal monologue chanted on repeat. Though I'd tried this a couple of times before, I was still nervous. You never knew if the resets might change her reaction, but one thing I knew for sure: I would not half-ass this last reset. I was going to leave a lasting mark with her.
Cassy, surprisingly, placed a hand on Mimi's shoulder. "Come on, accept it," she said with a straight face, her usual animosity momentarily forgotten. "I don't know what you ate to act this way, but I'd say that it's the manliest thing I have seen from you so far." A small smile touched her lips. "See you later, Mimi, you two should catch up." She gave Mimi a pat on the back and walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Whoa, thanks, Casey! I thought, genuinely surprised. I never thought she was that mature.
Mimi, still blushing furiously, finally took my peace offering. A couple of people in the crowd clapped, while others murmured, probably debating if this was a flash mob or an actual proposal.
"Get a room," someone grumbled, sounding suspiciously like Dennes.
I stood up, my heart pounding like a drum solo. "You hungry? I know a place in mind that sells outstanding Pares. Do you like pares?" I asked, my voice sounding far more confident than the emotional mess I was inside.
"Sure, pares is my favorite," she said in a soft voice, her blush still present.
Mustering every ounce of courage I had left, I smiled and gently took her hand. Her blush deepened even more. "Come on, let's go," I said, and led her towards the building exit. The people around us watched as we walked out—some smiling, some clapping, and some whispering. I felt a surge of relief that my crazy, loop-fueled plan had, against all odds, worked out perfectly. Thanks, practice resets, I thought.
I opened the passenger seat door of my car and, with a flourish, led her in, gently closing the door behind her.