Minutes had passed since the chaotic incident at the poolside, yet it felt as if time had slowed down, each second lingering like a hesitant guest. The world outside blurred as the medics whisked him away, their voices a distant murmur as they debated over his situation.

His house, a haven from the outside world, had never felt so welcoming. But even that refuge seemed invaded as he was lowered onto the vast expanse of his living room couch, a flurry of blankets softening his descent. A strange band was wrapped around his arm, a rhythmic beep indicating his vitals, a constant reminder of his mortality.

When they tried to venture further into his house, they found themselves locked out, the door proving an unyielding barrier.

A biometric lock. They'd need his palm print to gain access. The idea brought a fleeting grin to his face. Even in my weakness, I'm not defenseless. As the world swirled around him, that thought remained a steady anchor. He reached out, pressed his palm against the cool surface of the scanner, and the fortress doors swung open, yielding to their master's touch.

Evander was gently positioned on one of the sprawling couches that seemed to swallow his wiry frame. He observed the flurry of activity around him through the captivating prism of his bright blue eyes, noting the meticulous caution with which the medics handled him. Their hands, though firm, were careful to avoid unnecessary contact, and each shift in his position was preceded by a polite request for permission. His body, weakened and underweight, appreciated their gentle touch.

They hovered around him, like an assembly of worker bees around a queen, tending to his needs and ensuring he was stable. The armband that had been wrapped around his arm was removed and packed away in their kit. Amidst this, however, he couldn't shake off the sense of estrangement that seemed to be suspended in the air.

They spoke to each other, whispered instructions, and passed comments but hardly anyone addressed him directly. Their voices became a hum in the background, a radio static that was present but not engaging. He was the invisible king in their midst, respected but barely acknowledged. Is this how they see me? An object of curiosity but not worthy of conversation? The thought gnawed at him, stirring a pot of emotions within.

Refusing to play the silent patient, Evander forced himself off the couch, pushing through the residual fatigue. His movements elicited a gasp from the medics, but he ignored it. He tried to catch their eyes, to forge a connection, a link of mutual respect. But they seemed adept at the art of evasion, their gazes skirting around him, never quite meeting his.

Plastering on a polite smile, Evander chose to break the silence. "Could any of you show me how to procure some food from the kitchen?" His question hung in the air, echoing in the vast expanse of the living room.

The response was instantaneous. A veil of shock draped their faces, followed by an exchange of incredulous glances. He was met with wide eyes and mouths agape, as if he had uttered an alien language.

His question, though simple and innocent, seemed to have triggered an emotional earthquake. One of the women leaned over to her colleague, a cloak of condescension enveloping her voice as she whispered, "Men can be so helpless at times, can't they? Don't expect them to know anything."

Out of the tense silence, a young woman stepped forward, her gaze fixed on Evander. She was perhaps in her early twenties, radiating a soft beauty that emanated more from her expressive hazel eyes than her features. A cascade of auburn curls framed her fair face, while a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks added to her charming allure. She was a stark contrast to the sea of solemn faces, her youthful boldness shining like a beacon.

The others gasped, their eyes widening in horror as they watched their comrade defy the unspoken rule. Their voices, hushed and wary, filled the room as they muttered their concerns, "It's not our place to mingle with the 'man'. We're staff, not guests."

Evander, meanwhile, welcomed the young woman's willingness to aid. With a grateful smile, he admitted his predicament. "I'm sorry, but I can't figure out how to get food from this kitchen."

The woman, undeterred by the disapproval around her, reassured him. "That's alright. This is the latest design. The whole facility is new. Let me show you," she offered, her voice a soothing melody in the otherwise hushed space.

For a few minutes, she guided him through a mesmerizing holographic display, an ethereal array of options floating in mid-air. Evander watched, his keen mind absorbing the foreign technology. The virtual menu spun in mid-air, casting a soft glow over his intrigued features. His concentration was unyielding, as he familiarized himself with the unfamiliar interface.

He could see her observing him, her eyes curiously laced with admiration and caution. Though she kept her distance, her movements, her gaze, everything about her hinted at an inclination to breach the invisible barrier between them. She seemed to be drawn to his distinct charm, despite the inherent hesitance.

With a gesture akin to revealing a secret, she showed him the concealed refrigerator nested within a cabinet and the unique oven designed to heat the prepackaged meals.

Before she could escape the looming awkwardness and rejoin her colleagues who were anxiously signaling for her to leave, Evander interrupted her retreat. His question was simple, yet it seemed to hang heavy in the room.

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"Where are all the men? I haven't seen one since I got here," he asked, his tone laced with genuine curiosity.

She hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly before she responded. "To my knowledge, the men will be arriving in about a month. This new facility is preparing for its first intake for a special program," she explained, her voice adopting a professional tone.

A special program? His mind whirred, piecing together bits of information. He decided to probe further. "What special program?" he queried, his bright blue eyes focusing intently on her.

Caught off guard, she flushed a rosy hue, her eyes flickering with embarrassment. "I... I don't know all the details," she confessed, a touch of evasiveness seeping into her voice. "You should ask your therapist."

As she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, on the precipice of bolting, he lobbed one final question her way. "Why am I here a month early?" he asked, the query hanging in the air like an accusation.

She stumbled over her words, her gaze darting away. "You're... you're a special case," she mumbled, not meeting his gaze. "You needed treatment earlier."

With that, her colleagues practically yanked her away, their hands gripping her arms like vices. They bowed respectfully to Evander, their eyes fraught with tension. As they retreated, he caught a glimpse of the older women scolding the young woman.

He was left in the sudden quiet, the echoes of their words ricocheting off the walls. A special case. A special program. What in the world have I stepped into?

Feeling a gnawing hunger claw at the insides of his stomach, Evander turned his attention back to the holographic interface, a food selection device that was a marvel of technology. His fingers drifted over the display, the holographic images shifting as he explored the vast menu.

He had been in his fair share of battles, surviving on whatever scant rations he could scrounge together. But here, he found himself staring at an array of prepackaged meals that would have been a dream in his old world. Images of succulent cuts of meat, piles of vibrant vegetables, and tantalizing desserts spun before him in a colorful carousel. His mouth watered at the sight, his stomach grumbling impatiently.

Finally, he settled on a simple meal, a hearty dish laden with tender cuts of meat and a generous helping of carbohydrates. This should help put some weight on these bones, he mused, thinking of his skeletal physique.

His selection was immediately whisked away into the complex network of the facility's delivery system. Hidden within the walls was a labyrinth of high-speed conveyor belts and tiny drones, whirring and buzzing as they swiftly and efficiently transported his meal.

The kitchen hummed with the symphony of technology. A few moments later, a section of the wall opened up, revealing a sleek, triangular hatch. Inside, nestled securely, was his chosen meal, wrapped neatly in biodegradable packaging.

As he retrieved the meal, he turned his attention to the heating apparatus. It was an advanced version of what he might have called a microwave in his old world. Yet, this contraption was a marvel of science and, possibly, magic. Its sleek design housed an efficient heating system that could warm meals in mere moments. The surface of the device was inscribed with intricate symbols, each glowing faintly. Are these instructions? Or spells? he wondered, his fingers tracing the unfamiliar markings.

With a bit of trial and error, he managed to activate the device. As the timer counted down, he could feel a faint hum emanating from it, a tangible pulse of energy that hinted at its capabilities. The seconds trickled by, the suspense of the moment strung tight like a bowstring. Finally, the device pinged, its soft light dimming. Inside was his meal, steaming hot and ready to be devoured.

Evander eased himself onto a plush armchair, cradling his steaming meal. He took a moment to savor the enticing aroma wafting from the plate, his empty stomach sending waves of anticipation through him. The first bite brought a burst of flavors, rich, hearty, and tantalizingly delicious. He chewed slowly, letting the flavors unfurl on his tongue.

However, he found that he could not eat as quickly as he wanted. His stomach, used to scarcity, balked at the sudden abundance. It was as if his body was not accustomed to regular meals.

Have I been neglecting my nutrition? He pondered as he glanced down at his slender frame. His body was indeed alarmingly thin, a stark contrast to the muscular physique he had possessed in his previous life.

With a resolute nod, he spoke aloud to the empty room, his voice echoing slightly, "That's going to change. I need to put some meat on these bones." He resumed eating, methodically finishing most of the plate.

By the time he put down the fork, he could feel a gradual waning of the strange energy that the potion had imbued him with earlier. He had begun to tire, the initial wave of vitality fading into a dull exhaustion.

An idea sparked in his mind. He made his way back to the holographic menu and scrolled through it. To his relief, he found that the potion was available for delivery. He ordered ten vials of the energizing elixir, grimacing slightly at the thought of its bitter taste. But he had plans for his first night in this peculiar new world, and they required energy.

As he confirmed the order, a sense of determination settled over him. The night was young, and he had much to accomplish.

With a thoughtful frown etched onto his face, Evander began with the simplest of movements: slow and measured arm rotations, followed by gentle knee bends. His every muscle protested at even these small exercises, but he gritted his teeth and continued, sweat beginning to bead on his forehead.

Easy, Evander. Start small, and build from there. He reminded himself, pacing his movements and breathing to match the rhythm of his thoughts. He moved to wall push-ups next, the support from the wall easing the strain on his fragile body.

As the hours wore on, he cycled through an assortment of exercises designed to promote muscle growth and endurance. Toe touches, leg lifts, and slow squats became his mantra, the familiar rhythm of repetition soothing his mind. Every movement was a testament to his warrior spirit, pushing past the protests of his body.

Interspersed with these exercises, Evander took regular breaks to gulp down the energizing potions. Each swig was an assault on his senses, a bitter and noxious brew that twisted his features in distaste. The lingering aftertaste was as though he had swallowed a mouthful of foul-tasting mud.

Despite this, Evander refused to be daunted. He grimaced and bore it, even managing to find humor in his predicament. After all, he had experienced far worse in his past life.

Ah, the joys of regaining my strength. I'm sure even the harshest drill sergeant from my past life would've never subjected me to such a...delicious regimen. He thought to himself, his lips twitching into a wry smile.

His body might have been weak, but his spirit remained unbroken. With every hour that passed, every drop of sweat he shed, Evander's resolve only grew stronger