After accepting the quest, Jordan stood in the middle of his apartment and turned on the lights to show the damage in high definition.

The pizza box on the table had fossilized to the point that he could see the grease stains through the cardboard, leaving dark brown spots on the IKEA furniture underneath. Three half filled Monster cans sat next to it in a little aluminum triangles and several more were scattered around the floor leading towards his bedroom upstairs.

His favorite hoodie he wore to confront Eliza during Christmas was squished in between the couch cushions. There was a damp spot on one of the cushions that could be anything from soup to Pepsi.

The kitchen was the only haven of this apartment gleaming with the shine of stainless steel appliances that have never been used once. To think he begged his dad for this apartment specifically for these appliances forcing him to pay $400 more per month for an upgraded unit. His father really spared no expense.

If only Jordan used the microwave more than five times or used the stove once. The dishwasher was left unused because Jordan stuck to plastic silverware, plastic cups, and paper plates. The evidence of this was visible in the overflowing trash can stacked together like the world’s saddest game of Jenga.

The smell came next. It is sad and a little fascinating how the human body can be in a smell for so long they stop noticing how rank it is. Stale air mixing with old food and that sour tang of unwashed fabric. His apartment smelled like a football locker room after a hot summer practice session.

And upstairs is where the bed waited where there were sheets he could not remember the last time they were changed. A pillowcase with stains that form an outline of his face from all of the oil and dead skin.

Then there was the "biological anomaly" the system made sure to call out.

Twenty-four hours to fix all of it.

Jordan’s legs felt extra heavy as he head up the stairs to the loft. The timer on his phone now read twenty-three hours and fifty minutes.

Maybe I should get some sleep and start in the morning. I should be able to get all of this done after a nice rest. It made sense, I’m not gonna start a boss fight when I’m not at my max.

When Jordan finally made it up the stairs he saw his bed look the exact same as it did when he got out of it twenty minutes ago. With the rumpled sheets, flat pillow and that signature Jordan-shaped depression in the middle of the bed.

When Jordan sat down on the edge, the mattress sagged under his weight and the springs made a slight sound.

All Jordan needed was a few hours a sleep. Maybe wake up at around six or seven AM and get after the quest. It’s not like the trash was going to grow legs and walk away and he wouldn’t be able to fix his hair anyways until a salon opens up tomorrow morning.

Jordan lay back in his bed. The pillow fit his shead perfectly and the sheets smelt like him.

He closed his eyes.

Just a little bit of rest and then the beginning of his upgrade can start.

You think throwing money at your problems is helping? It’s making you smaller.

Cameron’s laugh in the parking lot. Oh, the simp?

Eliza’s face, completely blank. Just some guy from class.

Jordan’s eyes snapped open.

"AHHHH!"

Jordan launched himself out of his bed he nearly tripped and wiped out. His feet hit the floor at a bad angle and Jordan had to catch himself on the bedframe before he twisted his ankle.

"No. No no no. This is exactly what got me here."

Jordan stood in the middle of his loft bedroom breathing heavily. He was able to see his reflection in the window. Six foot two wearing boxer shorts and a tshirt with mysterious stains on them. His hair looked fucking disgusting and his face had a tinge of defeated melencholy on it.

No, Jordan. Tomorrow does not exist. Tomorrow is exactly how you ended up with sheets you haven’t changed in months and dirty clothes and food everywhere. Tomorrow is a lie that makes you stay comfortable for one more night and waste this opportunity.

Jordan grabbed his phone and opened up Spotify to scroll to the Locked In playlist. It’s something he was into doing when he saw Eliza kept liking photos of guys with abs and wanted to get a gym body for two weeks.

Now Jordan was gonna hit play for himself.

The first song dropped and bass filled the phone speaker with drums kicking in like a heart on cocaine.

"Alright." He said it to his reflection. "Let’s lock in."

===

[A/N:]

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