Regimen

There were three stats that, at first glance, were directly related to his physical traits.

The first was his strength stat, the second was his dexterity stat, and the third his constitution stat. While he didn't know exactly as to what they meant, it was obvious that they related to his physical ability.

They were also the three stats that were the easiest to judge for him.

Strength meant strength, obviously. Constitution… probably means my overall health. As for dexterity, maybe it means how flexible I am?

He had been working quite hard for his entire life if he did say so himself. Though he had stopped doing the more physical tasks since his promotion, he had gained quite a decent amount of endurance and strength from it. Considering these, his strength was likely above the average person's.

For his constitution, if one were to consider his chronic poor sleep schedule, along with his poor diet and lack of nutrients, his CON was probably lower than the average person's. This was including the fact that he got sick relatively easily.

For dexterity, he couldn't tell what it was compared to the average person.

If I were going along with my previous guesses, I can hardly even reach my toes.

He couldn't tell what it meant either, but it was obvious that it had at least something to do with him physically.

As for intelligence, wisdom, and charisma, Randolph didn't even bother trying to estimate their sums.

IQ tests existed, but they weren't a completely reliable judge for many people's intelligence. As for wisdom, it was even more vague.

Street smarts? Foresight?

Charisma was the most confusing out of all of them. Randolph didn't have a single clue what it meant, both in number and in how it was judged.

The only thing that he knew was that, either his own were high, or Arnold's was low.

As Randolph continued thinking, Archibald could be seen wheeling his way back to their table.

On the trolley he pushed was an assorted array of desserts. Chocolate cake, brownies and cookies, sorbet, and ice cream, and fruit tarts. Along with it was a large pitcher of water.

Along with him came a hotel employee, one of the waiters from the back that attended to the other customers.

It took half a minute for them to reach Randolph, to which Archibald bowed upon arrival.

"I have brought you two litres of water, along with several palate cleansers for your meal."

"Thanks, Archibald."

At this point, Randolph had finished his meal. Plates upon plates had been stacked in the center of the large round table, empty and stained with bits of food. The number of smaller bowls were innumerable, and Randolph didn't even bother to try stacking them.

It was a jaw-dropping amount of food, a full course for over seven grown adults, and only after demolishing it all did his gnawing hunger begin to feel satisfied.

After acknowledging Archibald's efforts, the young man picked up the pitcher of water. He didn't even bother to use a cup, drinking straight from the pitcher. It was very ungraceful, but Randolph couldn't be bothered to care.

The hotel employee watched, astonished, as Randolph chugged away. His throat throbbed as continuous gulps sounded out. He didn't bother to take both a breath and a break, downing what was probably two litres of water in a single go.

"Uh…"

As he was flabbergasted, Archibald took the initiative to begin stacking all the empty plates onto the trolley. He moved quickly and efficiently. It was only until a quarter of the plates were stacked did the waiter move.

"W-wait, mister. Please just sit back and let me do this, it's my job." Holding his hands out, he awkwardly attempted to get the butler to stop.

"It is of no consequence to me," But Archibald's tone left no room for argument. "I am merely performing my duties."

The moment he finished cleaning the table was the moment Randolph finished drinking.

"Hah…" The young man let out a gasp, completely satisfied.

The vast amount of food and water didn't make him feel bloated at all, but rather rejuvenated and refreshed.

"It's alright, Archibald. Just let him take the plates, we still need to talk about that thing."

"Very well, my Lord."

"Also… there's the matter of those two." Randolph gave an awkward smile to the waiter after pointing out the two warped utensils at the side. "I can't pay for them, I think they were malfunctioning."

"Uh… Don't worry about it, the Hotel will cover it…" The waiter was flabbergasted at the sight, but he managed to sound out a response.

How could a spoon and fork malfunction…?

The man worked quickly, stacking and wheeling the trolley of dishes away. He clearly did not feel comfortable, as if the entire thing was a new experience for him.

Why is he acting so odd? Is this not the usual way a concierge acts?

The thought crossed Randolph's mind, but he quickly brushed it off.

Dusting himself off, he discreetly pulled up the sleeves of his shirt. He only did it just enough to see his arm underneath.

The veins in his limbs which had previously been bulging were now much more tame and calm. They didn't throb like they did before and they weren't as prominent, much more faded in appearance.

That, combined with his rejuvenated feeling after eating and the status screen that floated in front of him, gave him a few clear clues on his body's state.

It was made further obvious when he correlated 1the change to the three physical stats on the screen.

Randolph wasn't sure how much dexterity meant, but he could infer with all the information that the constitution stat represented his body's state. Just the meaning alone was enough, but he was made further sure of his guesses with the proof in front of him.

My body demanding food likely means that it requires a vast amount of nutrients, probably enough to sustain the sudden change that its going through. 

This, combined with the dangerous bloated feeling in his muscles and his bulging veins likely meant that his body had too much strength and couldn't contend with the change. While the veins and bloated feeling had lessened, it was still there after all.

If CON represents my body, then that means my STR stat is too high while my CON stat is too low.

This discovery was crucial in keeping his health. Rather fortunately for the young man, it seemed like his body could still handle the change.

A chill ran down his back at the thought of what would have happened had he traded for too much strength.

Would I have just exploded?

Repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fist, Randolph observed his bulging muscles.

Either way, it meant that two or three more things had been added to his list of priority.

1. Eat a lot. Healthily.

2. Sleep a lot.

3. Exercise, a lot.

The purpose of these three was to increase his CON stat as much as possible, as it was the only way he knew how. It was a form of training, in a way.

After resolving himself to perform those three, Randolph turned his gaze to Archibald standing at the side.