Restart (Level Up Book #1) LitRPG Series

by Dan Sugralinov

  Richie pranced around me in concern, dropping to his front legs and looking me in the eye as if asking, ‘You okay, boss?’ Even Boris left the wardrobe and rubbed against my dragging legs, pushing them forward with her large forehead.

  Scrambling back to my feet in order to reach for the sink tap proved to be the difficult bit. Leaning against a stool, I finally did it. I opened the tap and took a long, luxurious drink, enjoying every mouthful. I must have drunk at least a couple of quarts. I’d never been so thirsty in my life.

  Finally, the Thirst debuff disappeared. I could move around again.

  I opened the fridge and wolfed down everything that was left from Kira’s cooking. I then grabbed the large chunk of cheese she’d brought last night and gobbled it like an apple.

  And then I found her oatmeal cookies.

  I boiled some water, made myself a large mug of tea and attacked the cookies. Ooh Kira, they’re so good, thank you so much!

  What was wrong with me? I’d never liked cookies. Especially not oatmeal ones.

  After about twenty minutes, the Weakness debuff was finally gone. Now I was sleepy. As I finished the tea, I noticed the familiar black diamond icon with a red exclamation mark.

  Wasn’t it the same one I’d glimpsed before falling asleep?

  The black icon expanded into a message,

  Warning! We’ve detected an abnormal increase in your Strength characteristic: +1 pt.

  Your body will be restructured in keeping with the new reading (7) to comply with your new metabolism and chronotropy values.

  Changes required: development of new muscle tissue and the strengthening of sinews, ligaments and tendons.

  It went on and on, telling me about the changes made to my glycogen and intramuscular phosphocreatine levels, intramuscular and intermuscular coordination, etc., etc. But it all paled into insignificance next to a small notice at the end. It was written in big fat letters and framed in red. Which, in my opinion, they should have shown me even before offering me the Accept/Decline button!

  Warning!

  The restructuring of your body functions requires a considerable amount of nutrients. In order to avoid danger to your life, you’re strongly encouraged to consume a minimum of 10 oz. animal protein, 3 lbs. of carbohydrates and 3 oz. of animal fats. A shortage of nutrients may result in body function failure.

  Warning!

  Artificial characteristic boosting of more that 1 pt. at a time is strictly forbidden! Strong chance of fatality!

  Oh, great. Just what I wanted to hear. And what if I’d left it till next level when I’d have two points to distribute? Would I have just dropped dead on the spot? With no hope of ever being rezzed?

  The mere thought of this outcome made me break out in a cold sweat. I was desperate for a smoke, so much so that I very nearly made a dash for a nearby 24/7. The only thing that stopped me was the Nicotine Withdrawal debuff still hovering in my mental view. I had only eight days of it left. I could do it.

  Instead, I summoned Martha, greeting her with a liberal amount of f-words. She replied that she’d have had no authority to intervene even if she’d been activated. I unsummoned the useless wench and went back to bed.

  Before falling asleep, I did check my stats. I had indeed grown stronger, judging by my Strength, 7 reading. My arm muscles, too, felt slightly harder. My chest seemed to be bulging just a tad more. But that was the extent of it.

  I awoke from Richie’s desperate barking. The doorbell was about to shake itself loose.

  I glanced at the phone: half past seven. Who the heck could that be so early?

  I stumbled to my feet, threw some clothes on and hurried for the door. Someone was already banging on it, kicking it impatiently.

  They shouldn’t, really. I hated this kind of aggressive behavior. There were three things I couldn’t stand: road ragers honking at me, a phone that won’t stop ringing when you can’t pick it up, and someone kicking the door before you can even answer it.

  “Open the door, now!” Yanna’s voice came from outside.

  “Coming,” I snapped over Richie’s barking.

  I locked him in the bathroom so he didn’t scare her. The banging stopped. I could hear her whispering something to somebody she’d apparently brought along.

  I opened the door. Ignoring me, my mother-in-law barged into the apartment, loaded with empty bags.

  “Hi,” I said to her back.

  Yanna stood in the doorway, looking good and dressed in a neat business suit with a white shirt, a light blazer and a skirt which ended just above her knees. She was wearing a gold watch and a matching bangle I’d never seen before. The heavy, seductive scent of an expensive perfume hung around her.

  “Hi Yanna,” I said as calmly as I could, trying to level my heartbeat.

  She didn’t reply. For a split second, she lingered in the doorway, then walked directly into the bedroom, looking appraisingly around.

  “I can see you’ve got a dog now,” she said without turning. “I thought you didn’t like them?”

  “It’s not my dog,” I said. “I’m taking care of it for a while.”

  She wasn’t listening. She walked into the bedroom and locked the door behind her.

  I seethed. She couldn’t have shown her lack of respect for me any clearer. This used to be our home. Our love nest. And I’d cleaned it — the least she could do was wipe her feet by the door.

  I suppressed the desire to barge into the bedroom and tell them everything I thought about them. Then I reconsidered. Yanna was her mommy’s little girl. Between the two of them, they’d make quick work of me.

  So I walked into the bathroom instead and began brushing my teeth. Let them do their packing in peace. I had no desire to speak to Yanna in her mother’s presence.

  I brushed my teeth angrily, realizing I’d never been comfortable around the older woman.

  Although outwardly supportive of her daughter’s choice, in reality her mother had always been against it. I could sense it in her constant sarcasms and in the contemptuous way Yanna treated me whenever she’d come back from visiting them. The old lady seemed to despise me with abandon, barely deigning to notice me.

  When Yanna and I had still been dating, every time I’d come round with a bunch of flowers, my future mother-in-law would answer the door and shout, “Yanna, it’s what’s-his-name! He’s got some twigs with him this time!” She never called me by my name. She’d chuck the “twigs” nonchalantly onto the shoe rack without ever inviting me in. I had to wait for Yanna on the landing every time, until we finally got married.

  The wedding had been rather modest. We didn’t even have a honeymoon. I was pretty sure that her mother (or even Yanna herself, maybe) blamed this on me too.

  I was ravenous again. My body was probably still restructuring itself.

  “Wait here,” I told Richie, then walked out of the bathroom.

  Both Yanna and her mother were already busy in the kitchen packing stuff. They rummaged through the cupboards, scooping out pots, skillets, mugs and plates.

  “Look, this is the kettle I gave you as a wedding gift!” the older woman held a running commentary. “It’s still new! And a packet of buckwheat. Is it expired? — no. Excellent. Take it!”

  I didn’t know what to say. I suppressed my desire to shower them with sarcasms about their petty greed. Let them take whatever they wanted.

  Just as I was thinking about it, Yanna’s mother opened the fridge and pulled out some meatballs and a carton of eggs Kira had brought me yesterday. She brought the box up to her eyes, squinting at the expiry date.

  “Excuse me!” I raised my voice. “These meatballs are mine!”

  I immediately regretted saying anything because Yanna felt obliged to chime in, “You’ve never had any balls, you. Stop kidding yourself.”

  “We’re only taking what’s ours,” her mother said magnanimously, hurling the box back into the fridge.

  “Thank you very much,” I said. “You’re most kind.�
��

  I focused on her stats, just to keep my mind off the scene.

  Natalia Sergeevna Orlova.

  Age: 49

  Current status: housewife

  Social status level: 13

  Class: office worker. Level: 7

  Married

  Husband: Sergei Orlov

  Children: Yannina, daughter. Age: 24

  Reputation: Animosity 15/30

  I picked up an old pot she’d discarded as not having passed her quality control. “Do you mind?”

  She ignored my question. I filled the pot with water, placed six eggs into it and put it on the burner.

  Mrs. Orlova scooped up the blender and the toaster and hurled them into one of the bags. Her appraising gaze alighted on the microwave. “Is it ours?”

  “No, it’s not,” Yanna said. “It came with the flat.”

  “Very well, then,” losing all interest, Mrs. Orlova staggered out of the kitchen into the lounge, dragging the heavy bags behind her.

  “Mom, wait!” Yanna called, holding a bottle of dishwashing liquid. “I bought this.”

  Her mother’s face brightened. “Come on, chuck it in. It’s always useful.”

  By then, I was beyond flabbergasted. I knew Yanna was the frugal type — stingy even — but this was a bit too much.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. I answered it. “Yes? Yes, it’s me. How can I help you?”

  I could sense them freeze in the lounge, pricking up their ears.

  “Phil? Phil, it’s Darya,” a girl’s voice rattled off in the receiver. “You saw me during the interview you had with our company, Ultrapak, the other day. I’m very happy to tell you that you’ve been accepted for a trial period. You think you could start tomorrow?”

  “Hey!” Yanna shouted from the lounge. “Mind getting your mutt out of the bathroom? We need to check it out!”

  “Or, absolutely,” I replied into the phone, then covered it with my hand and shouted to Yanna, “Coming!”

  “Very well,” Darya’s voice said. “You know the address, don’t you? We start at eight a.m. We’d like you to bring-”

  Mrs. Orlova barged into the kitchen, “Take the dog out now! We don’t have all day!”

  I gestured for her to wait till I’d finished. Stepping back, I very nearly stumbled over a hungry Boris rubbing against my feet as in, ‘whassup boss, it’s breakfast time, where’s my chow?’

  I rummaged through the cupboards for the cat food but couldn’t locate it in the mess. Never mind. I grabbed a carton of milk and poured some into his bowl. That one was sorted.

  Mrs. Orlova opened her mouth to speak. I hurried to switch off the phone’s microphone.

  “Phil, are you there?” Darya’s voice asked.

  I cussed and switched the mic back on. “Yes, sure. What do you want me to bring?”

  “Get the dog out now!” Mrs. Orlova growled.

  “Oh, just a recent photo of yourself... sorry, what did you say?”

  “Er... no, nothing.”

  “Yes, a photo for your name tag. A digital one will do. And-”

  “Hey!” Yanna’s voice rang with hysterical notes so familiar to me.

  Mrs. Orlova stood hands on hips in the doorway, boring me with her impatient stare. I clenched my teeth and went to the bathroom.

  Richie dashed out and went for the older woman who scrambled to safety just in time. I grabbed at his collar and led him out onto the balcony, “Heel! Richie, heel!”

  He was straining on the collar, wheezing and pulling me along, his paws slipping on the lino.

  “Off!” I shouted to him.

  “What a monster!” Mrs. Orlova sobbed. She was dripping with cold sweat.

  “Please make sure you take your paperwork to the HP department before you start working,” Darya finished, nonplussed.

  “Yes, absolutely! See you tomorrow! Thanks a lot,” I cradled the phone on my shoulder in order to lock the balcony door.

  “See you tomorrow, Phil. We’re looking forward to working with you.”

  I switched the phone off.

  I had a job! A tidal wave of relief and pleasure flooded over me.

  Task Status: Find a stable job

  Task completed!

  XP received: 50 pt.

  +10% to Satisfaction

  I dropped onto the couch, savoring the moment. It felt so good I might even get used to it. So this was the feeling which turned people into workaholics and time management freaks?

  I needed to see my XP bar really badly. I just hoped it would sooner or later appear in my interface.

  A Godawful crashing noise came from the bathroom, followed by a torrent of f-words courtesy of Mrs. Orlova. Richie outside leaned his front paws against the balcony door, whimpering. I hurried to the bathroom to assess the damage.

  “Mom, are you crazy?” Yanna fussed around her. “You could have hurt yourself!”

  “It’s all right,” the older woman said, rubbing her forehead. “That’s what happens when you don’t have a handyman in the house! Things are held together with spit and a prayer!”

  The bathroom cabinet lay shattered on the floor, its contents spilled all over the place. Shower gels, shampoos, my shaving foam, our two razors, toothbrushes and toothpaste, as well as a broken tumbler. It looked like my mother-in-law had at some point leaned her 200 pound-plus weight against the cabinet which had collapsed, unable to sustain the extra pressure.

  Mrs. Orlova scooped everything into a plastic bag, only leaving me my toothbrush.

  “Hey, that’s my razor,” I attempted to protest. “You don’t need the shaving foam either, do you?”

  “I bought it with my money,” Yanna announced. “I use both, anyway. You can buy your own. You don’t even need them, do you? It’s not as if you shave very often!”

  I smiled. Their attempts to provoke me were truly pathetic. This final quip had actually become the last straw: now I didn’t feel anything. They could take what they wanted, I didn’t care. All I needed was my computer and the mattress to sleep on, so they were very welcome to take the bedframe if they wanted, too. They could strip the whole house bare, be my guest!

  What did hurt was this petty attempt at revenge from a woman I used to love so much right until this morning. Her hatred was so blatantly obvious that I really didn’t feel like talking to her, let alone try to kiss and make up. Actually, I was happy it had happened now and not after a lifetime of living together. It was a good job we didn’t have children. I knew it wasn’t a good thing to say but that’s the way it was. First, she’d been too busy graduating, then we’d had to settle down and wait for me to start earning... until at some point we’d simply stopped thinking about kids. At least I had.

  Yanna seemed to be reading my mind. “Oh, and by the way,” she said matter-of-factly. “We need to go to the registry office and file for divorce. I can’t do it this week. I have too much work. So it’s gonna be next Tuesday. I’ll text you when.”

  “Please do,” I said. “I’ll have to take time off work.”

  She raised a quizzical eyebrow but refused to comment.

  Finally, Mrs. Orlova was done plundering. Yanna dialed her phone,

  “Vlad? You can come up now. We’re finished. What did you say? It’s okay, we can wait.”

  “It’s all right,” I said. “I can help you.”

  Showing no reaction, they picked up a bag each and walked out of the flat. I lifted all the remaining bags and staggered out of the apartment. I actually did feel stronger. The bags were still heavy but at least my fingers didn’t slacken on the handles as they would have before.

  As I walked out onto the landing, I remembered the eggs, cussed, trotted back in and turned off the gas. Then I carried the bags downstairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator.

  Strangely enough, I didn’t give a damn about Vlad, whoever he was. They could do what they wanted. Even though formally Yanna and I were still married, I didn’t feel any pangs of jealousy or whatever a male ape was
supposed to feel having lost his female to a stronger opponent. I just didn’t care.

  I immediately recognized the Jeep which had picked up Yanna the night she’d left. Vlad stood next to it: a tall fit guy with short slicked-back hair. I sort of remembered him: he was Yanna’s workmate. He was wearing a hugging blue shirt and a fancy belt in his dark pants. His polished shoes reflected the sunshine.

  He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to help them with the bags though. He just stood there staring at the two women staggering under the weight of their ill-gotten gains. He simply opened the trunk and turned away, talking into his phone.

  Grunting like a weightlifter, Mrs. Orlova hauled the bags into the trunk. She never stopped panting and complaining how tired she really was. I put the remaining bags in too. Still, one last plastic bag didn’t fit in the trunk.

  “D’you want it in the car?” I asked Yanna.

  She shrugged, then took the passenger seat in front.

  I was getting a bit fed up with all this. I swung the back door open and sat the bag onto the seat.

  “Are you nuts? What do you think you’re doing?” came from behind as I was brushing my hands. “Get your crap out now! This is leather, you dimwit!”

  “You mean it’s not shark skin? That would suit you better,” I slammed the Jeep’s door shut and walked back to the house.

  “Hey you!” Vlad raved behind me. “Come back here now! I tell you!”

  I’d had enough. I couldn’t control myself any longer. I swung round and walked back, all the while studying his profile.

  Vladimir Korolev

  Age: 30

  Current status: Manager

  Social status level: 13

  Class: Administrator. Level: 6

  Not married

  Children: Radomir, son. Age: 2

  Reputation: Indifference 0/30

  I walked over to him, so close I’d very nearly stepped on his polished shoes, and locked my gaze with his. Admittedly, I had to tilt my head up to do that.

  “What’s your problem, dude?” I asked, investing all my anger into the question.