Chapter 75: Volume 1, - 75: Too Much
On Monday morning, Rayan’s phone alarm sounded at six. Beside his bed, schoolbooks were stacked directly on top of his folded Sporting kit bag, a half-eaten piece of toast sitting on a paper plate next to his geography folder.
His phone buzzed twice against the bedside table before he had pulled on his shoes.
Idris (06:08): You still coming tomorrow at four? Need to finish the history section before Wednesday.
Joca (06:12): Can you record the voice-over before lunch tomorrow? Or bring the microphone cable when you come.
Rayan shoved his history binder into his backpack, zipped his boot bag, and checked his peripheral vision. A smoked-black panel hovered near the edge of his sight:
[OPTIONAL MISSIONS ACTIVE.]
[Weak-Foot Wall Passes: 60 controlled repetitions.]
[Deadline: Tuesday, 16:50.]
[Body Feint Practice: Complete.]
[Video Review: Belenenses duel — Complete.]
[Tactical Reflection: Pending.]
[Recovery Target: Complete.]
He had thirty-five minutes before his bus. After months of feeling as though every missed opportunity set him back, refusing an available task felt dangerously close to slipping into his old habits. He typed a quick response to Idris. Yes, four o’clock works, I’ll be there and sent a voice note to Joca promising to leave the cable in his locker before second period tomorrow.
"Rayan!" Leonor called from the corridor, her voice sharp over the sound of the kitchen tap. "You said you’d pick up the mounting board and clips tomorrow. Lara and I need them by half past four."
"I know," Rayan called back, grabbing his coat. "I’ll drop them off at your project room right after study."
"Half past four, Rayan. We need everything assembled by five."
"I’ll be there."
By three on Tuesday afternoon, the project room at Leonor’s school was covered in fabric swatches, thread spools and cardboard cut-outs.
Leonor stood over a low desk, holding a strip of repurposed denim against a cream-coloured tote bag. Lara Pinto sat opposite her, squinting through a pair of craft scissors at a sheet of decorative labels.
"Is the navy too dark against the canvas?" Lara asked, holding the denim in place. "It makes the whole panel look heavy."
"It’s fine if we use the lighter stitching," Leonor said, her voice methodical and flat. "If we switch to the sage green, it looks childish. Miss Carmo said the focus is structural re-use, not soft pastels."
"Mariana’s group copied the embroidery edge," Lara muttered, trimming a label. "I saw them using the same cross-stitch pattern during lunch."
"Let them. Their panel isn’t reinforced," Leonor replied, checking her watch. "It’ll sag when they hang it. Is the title text readable from three metres?"
"Barely," Lara said, leaning back. "We need the stiff mounting board to keep the canvas flat, or the letters fold into the crease. Where’s Rayan? It’s four forty-five."
Leonor didn’t answer immediately. She smoothed the corner of the canvas with her thumb. "He said he’d bring the board and clips."
"Should we try the spare card from the art bin?" Lara asked, pulling out a thin, grey sheet from under the table. "It’s slightly bent, but if we double the tape, it might hold until the presentation."
"It won’t look clean," Leonor said. "But grab the tape anyway. We can’t wait."
At four forty-eight, Rayan was standing against the wall behind Leonor’s school gymnasium, his pulse hammering in his ears.
He had finished thirty minutes with Idris at the nearby public library, then used the remaining time behind Leonor’s school gym to chase the optional counter. The journey from his own school had already cost him ten minutes, but the final delay was entirely his choice.
[Weak-Foot Wall Passes: 58/60]
’Two more.’
He dropped the ball, bounced it off the brickwork, and caught the return on his left instep. Fifty-nine. He kicked it again, slightly too hard; the ball ricocheted off a seam and skittered away towards the bicycle rack.
[Control requirement not met.]
[Weak-Foot Wall Passes: 59/60.]
Rayan sprinted after it, but by the time he reached the bicycle rack, the remaining seconds disappeared.
[OPTIONAL MISSION EXPIRED.]
[Objective incomplete.]
[Penalty: None.]
Rayan collected the ball, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The stationer’s paper bag, containing the heavy mounting board and clips, was tucked under his arm, the edges slightly crushed from his run. He turned towards the main project room.
When he crossed the threshold at four fifty-four, Leonor and Lara were already pressing the final strip of double-sided tape onto the thin, grey art card. The display board was mounted, but the canvas tote sagged slightly near the centre, the title text bowing downward where the card lacked rigidity.
Lara looked up first. "Oh. Hey, Rayan."
Leonor didn’t look up immediately. She smoothed the last piece of tape, placed the scissors cleanly in her pencil case, and finally turned towards him.
"I brought the mounting board," Rayan said, holding out the bag. "And the heavy clips. The library study went late, and I had to—"
"If you couldn’t come, you should’ve just said no," Leonor said. Her voice was quiet, entirely free of dramatic anger.
Rayan opened his mouth to explain. The history review with Idris, Joca’s cable, the final set of wall passes, but the words died in his throat. Listing his commitments didn’t change the fact that the tote bag was hanging on bent card because he hadn’t arrived at half past four.
"I’m sorry," Rayan said quietly. He walked over to the desk and set the bag down next to her pencil case. "I’m really sorry, Leonor. Let me swap the backing card out now. It’ll take five minutes."
"We already taped the canvas, Rayan," Leonor said, pulling her binder closed. "If we peel it off now, the paper backing tears. It’s fine. It works."
She accepted the bag of extra clips, using two of them to clamp the top corners, but she didn’t say everything was okay. She simply kept working, packing her leftover swatches into her schoolbag alongside Lara. Rayan stayed to help clear the scraps from the floor, carrying the heavy rubbish bin out to the hallway, but the quiet between them remained fixed.
Sitting on his bed in Olivais later that evening, the apartment was still.
Rayan leaned his head against the wall, staring at his desk. His history notes were half-annotated. Joca had sent a polite message thanking him for returning the cable, though he’d had to adjust his edit timeline. Idris had messaged to ask if they could finish the remaining history topics over the phone because their in-person study had been cut short.
And in his peripheral vision, the expired mission line sat static and neutral:
[Penalty: None.]
The word optional had been literal. The System had offered the task; it had never demanded that he complete everything. Rayan had turned the list into a test and made promises his day could not hold.
At midnight, a new System panel resolved at the edge of his vision:
[OPTIONAL MISSIONS AVAILABLE.]
[Weak-Foot Wall Passes: 60 repetitions.]
[First-Touch Control Block: 20 minutes.]
[Video Analysis: Casa Pia defensive shape.]
Rayan looked at the highlighted list. His first instinct was to accept all three. His focus moved towards the confirmation command, then stopped.
He reached into his bag, pulled out his school planner and opened it to Wednesday. He looked at his scheduled class times, his history assignment deadline, and the Sporting bus timetable. He kept the planner open in front of him, staring at the empty slots on the page.