CHAPTER 78: COMPETITIVE CARDIO IS OUR LOVE LANGUAGE

I knew today would be productive when I woke up to ’Good morning’ and ’Study date?’ texts from Emi. The cute little healer practically falling into my lap this easily? Divine intervention or dumb luck, I’d take either.

I was scrolling through the messages again as I pushed open the door to the home gym, already mapping out my approach for Sunday’s "study session." Something subtle but effective—like showing genuine interest in her healing abilities before pivoting to personal questions. Girls like Emi were simple puzzles: show interest in their passions, make them feel special, then—

The sound of weights clanking against metal interrupted my strategic planning. I glanced up to find Natalia mid-workout, dressed in skintight black leggings and a purple sports bra. Sweat glistened on her skin as she performed barbell squats with flawless form, her Cryo-Lich Ring glinting under the morning light streaming through the panoramic windows.

Well, well. Princess is up early.

I leaned against the doorframe, watching her complete the set. The weights hit the rack with a satisfying clang, and Natalia finally acknowledged my presence with a sidelong glance, her chest rising and falling with controlled breaths.

"Think you can keep up, Princess?" I asked, my voice low and challenging as I stepped fully into the room. The gym suddenly felt smaller, the air between us charged like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks.

Natalia grabbed her water bottle, taking a long, deliberate sip before answering. "Try not to hurt yourself, old man." Her eyes traveled over my sleeveless workout shirt and shorts with feigned disinterest, but I caught the almost imperceptible tightening of her grip on the bottle.

Game on.

I pulled out my phone, making a show of checking messages before starting my workout. From the corner of my eye, I could see Natalia watching, pretending to adjust her ponytail but really tracking my movements like a hawk.

The city of New Vein sprawled below our window, bathed in the golden light of early morning. The view from our condo in Veridian Hills was worth every credit of Luka’s money—skyscrapers catching fire in the sunrise, the distant shimmer of the sea, even the protective dome barely visible as a faint iridescent shell over the skyline.

I snapped a quick picture and sent it to Emi with a simple message: "Good morning. The city’s already at work."

Natalia cleared her throat loudly. "If you’re done with your social media update, some of us are here to actually train." She moved toward the treadmills.

I pocketed my phone and followed her, choosing the machine directly beside hers. We started at a casual warm-up pace, but within minutes, I nudged my speed higher. Natalia immediately responded by matching me. Neither of us said a word as the digital numbers climbed higher, the only sounds our rhythmic footfalls and increasingly labored breathing.

The race was on.

Sweat began to soak through my shirt as I pushed harder, my legs pumping steadily. I’d been in worse situations than a cardio competition with my hot stepsister.

I glanced over at her, admiring the fierce concentration on her face, the way her breasts swung hypnotically with each stride. She must have sensed my gaze because she turned, catching me looking. Instead of glaring, she simply raised one eyebrow and increased her speed again.

Fuck, she’s hot when she’s competitive.

By the time we finished, we were both drenched in sweat and breathing hard. Natalia shut off her machine first, claiming victory with a smug smile that made me want to pin her against the wall and—

My phone buzzed. Emi had replied.

I pulled it out to find a selfie that was so aggressively adorable it could have been weaponized. She was still in bed, covers pulled up to her chin, blue hair a chaotic mess around her face with that signature antenna-like strand sticking straight up. Her pout was pure calculated cuteness.

"No fair! I’m still being lazyyyy! Wish I had a workout partner to motivate me! 😜"

I couldn’t help but smirk. The contrast between Natalia’s intense, sweat-soaked presence and Emi’s cuddly morning aesthetic was almost comical.

"That’s a perfect contact photo," I texted back, saving the image. Then, aware of Natalia’s burning gaze on the back of my neck, I quickly took a selfie, catching the light on my sweat-slicked shoulders, with just the right amount of confident smirk. "Now we’re even."

I turned to find Natalia at the weight station, aggressively adding plates to a barbell. The silent battle shifted to a new arena.

I moved to the bench press, loading it with an amount that would have been impossible for the original Satori but was now just challenging enough to showcase my rapidly developing strength. Each rep was deliberate, controlled, a display of power that I made sure Natalia could see from her position.

She countered by setting up the hip thrust station directly in my line of sight. I nearly dropped the barbell on my chest when she positioned herself, the weighted bar across her hips, and began a series of thrusts that were technically perfect form but felt like personalized torture.

Two can play this game, Princess.

I finished my set and sat up, making a show of wiping sweat from my face with the bottom of my shirt, briefly exposing my abdomen. The small intake of breath from Natalia’s direction was victory enough.

The workout continued like this—a choreographed dance of mutual provocation. I’d move to pull-ups, exaggerating the flex of my back muscles; she’d counter with Romanian deadlifts that showcased the curve of her spine. I’d do tricep dips; she’d respond with kettlebell swings that had her ponytail whipping through the air.

Neither of us spoke. We didn’t need to. Our bodies were having an entire conversation without words.

By the time we reached the Aspect training portion, the air in the gym was electric with unspent energy. I moved to the practice dummy in the corner, focusing on my [Sever] ability. With each precise movement of my hands, invisible cuts appeared on the reinforced material. The synthetic fabric parted cleanly with each slice, the edges seared by the follow-up application of [Ember].

I was vaguely aware of Natalia in the opposite corner, her hands extended as she levitated multiple weights in a complex orbital pattern. The purple energy of her telekinesis pulsated around her like a violet flame, intensified by the blue-white flare of her Cryo-Lich Ring. Small ice crystals formed along the edges of the floating weights, catching the light in prismatic flashes.

We were mirror images of controlled destruction—her power a spectacular display, mine a subtle but deadly precision.

When we finally finished our respective training, we stood on opposite sides of the gym, both breathing hard, drenched in sweat, staring at each other across the distance. The tension between us was palpable, a living thing with weight and substance.

I walked toward the door, pausing as I passed her. I didn’t touch her—we’d established rules about public spaces—but I leaned close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from my body, smell the salt on my skin.

"Good work today... partner," I murmured, my voice rough from exertion.

I felt rather than saw her shiver, a tiny involuntary reaction that sent a surge of satisfaction through me.

Round one to Satori.

In the shower afterward, hot water sluicing over my aching muscles, I checked my phone again. As expected, Emi had responded enthusiastically to my selfie:

"Wow! You look so strong!"

I smiled, thumbing a quick reply: "Not as strong as I want to be, but I could give you some tips later."

Add a touch of practical reasoning to keep it from seeming purely social. Girls like Emi need to feel useful and needed, not just wanted.

I heard movement in the kitchen—Kimiko preparing breakfast, from the sounds of it. Time to play the dutiful son for a while.

I paused at my desk, checking on Bartholomew’s terrarium before heading out. The immortal snail was making his glacial way up the side of his castle, leaving a glistening trail behind him.

"Slow and steady wins the race, right buddy?" I murmured.

The snail, predictably, had no response.