Stolen Fatigue: I Die in His Place

"Looks like somebody wants to play hero for the squad. Fine. Whoever runs in everyone's place is doing 30 miles!"

Lindsey Quinn, the orientation leader, gave the order without even a shift in expression. In her eyes, this was just another case of dumb teenage loyalty between a bunch of guys. She clearly didn't think anyone would actually go through with it.

However, in my previous life, Fletcher Stone actually ran the entire distance for the class without breaking a sweat. After that, everyone practically worshipped him.

Meanwhile, I collapsed on the spot and got branded as the weak link with terrible stamina. In the end, it even cost me my life.

Fletcher grabbed my arm, his voice heavy with concern. "Don't be stupid, Dorian. Your health's already bad enough. Running for the whole class means doing 30 miles alone. Let me do it instead."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was enough for the people around us to hear.

"The heck is Dorian doing? I thought he had hypoglycemia! Is he trying to steal the spotlight or what?"

"Seriously. If he can't finish, the whole class gets punished again. He just had to jump out and show off, huh?"

I stared at Fletcher coldly and shook his hand off.

This time, I had to figure out what was going on with him. I wanted to test whether the fatigue system between us actually worked both ways, so I made my move first.

Lindsey frowned as she looked me over, then glanced at the innocent-looking Fletcher beside me. Finally, she waved impatiently. "Quit dragging this out. Both of you, run. And neither of you is resting until the full distance is done!"

"Okay," I answered without hesitation. Fletcher's lips curled into an almost imperceptible smirk.

The whistle blew, and the two of us shot forward at the same time.

At first, I could still hold on, driven by the ruthless edge that came with my rebirth. Yet, less than a mile in, that familiar bone-deep exhaustion came crashing in like a tide.

My legs felt like they were being stabbed with countless needles. Every step felt as heavy as a boulder strapped to my body.

I turned my head slightly. Fletcher was running right beside me, his breathing even, not a single drop of sweat on his forehead. He even had the spare energy to flash me an encouraging smile.

I knew he had already started siphoning my energy.

I gritted my teeth and forced my legs to keep moving, but physical limits weren't something sheer willpower could break through. It felt like an invisible giant had straddled me, adding weight with every second until I could barely breathe.

Finally, at around the second mile, my vision went black. My legs gave out, and I slammed hard onto the track. The entire field erupted in shock. I struggled to push myself up, but my limbs felt like they had given up on me.

Fletcher stopped running. He leaned down slightly, looking at me with undisguised contempt and satisfaction. In front of everyone, though, he wore that mask of the warm, kind-hearted class favorite.

"Dorian, are you okay? I told you not to push yourself."

He went on to finish the remaining 28 miles with ease, crossing the finish line to cheers and praise from the entire group. Meanwhile, I was hauled off on a stretcher by the medics, once again becoming the campus' laughingstock.

I lay in the infirmary for half a day before finally regaining a little strength.

A counselor came to check on me. Every word out of her mouth was basically telling me not to be overambitious and that it was important to recognize the gap between me and others.

I listened in silence, feeling nothing but cold irony.

After today's incident, my image in the class had been sealed in place once again. I became the physically weak clown who, for some reason, loved showing off at the wrong time.

Meanwhile, Fletcher had become the shining, untouchable campus heartthrob.

That night, when I returned to the dorm, my roommates were noticeably colder toward me.

One of them, Billy Parker, even said with a mocking tone, "Hey, Dorian. You really made us all 'proud' today, huh? Anyone who didn't know better would think our class deliberately sent out a weakling just to challenge Fletcher."

I ignored him, climbed straight onto my bed, and pulled the blanket over my head. In the darkness, I calmly replayed everything that had happened today.

A head-on confrontation would give me zero chance of winning. Fletcher's ability was too bizarre. As long as I stayed near him, I basically became his battery pack.

I had to change my approach. I needed an ally, someone with real authority, who wouldn't easily be fooled by Fletcher's surface act.

Only one person came to mind—our orientation leader, Lindsey.