Chapter 3: Phase One: The Conditioning

The first step of ‘Pavlov’s Ruin’ required a tool Ethan didn't possess. A frontal assault was clumsy. He needed precision, a scalpel to his roommate’s psyche, not a sledgehammer. He needed to control the soundscape of the room without ever touching Leo’s phone.

He focused on the blue-lit interface of the System, which now hovered patiently at the edge of his vision. 'System store,' he thought, experimenting.

A new window materialized, displaying a sparse but potent inventory.

[Karmic Store] [Current Balance: 10 Karmic Points (KP)]

[Available Items:] [Minor Physical Enhancement (Temporary): 50 KP] [Low-Level Suggestion (Verbal): 100 KP] [Tool: Untraceable Audio Emitter (Range: 5 meters): 10 KP] [Information Packet (Basic): 25 KP]

There it was. Ethan didn't hesitate. He selected the emitter. Ten points, earned simply for accepting his new role as an agent of cosmic justice, were instantly deducted. A moment later, a small, black disk, no larger than a coin and cool to the touch, materialized in the palm of his hand. It was smooth and featureless, absorbing the light.

[Item: Untraceable Audio Emitter] [Description: A device capable of perfectly replicating any recorded sound. Connects directly to System interface. Undetectable by standard electronic sweeps.]

That night, Ethan waited until the familiar rhythm of Leo’s snoring filled the room. The air was thick with the smell of stale energy drinks and unwashed laundry. Under the cover of darkness, he moved with the silence of a predator. He peeled the adhesive backing from the emitter and pressed it firmly to the underside of Leo's own desk, hiding it in the jungle of cables for his gaming PC. It vanished into the shadows, a digital phantom waiting for its cue.

Back at his own desk, a new control panel appeared on his System interface, showing audio waveforms. He had used [Observation] to record Leo's ten-alarm symphony the day before. Now, he loaded the file.

The clock on his laptop ticked past 4:59 a.m. Leo’s actual alarms were set for 6:00 a.m.

This was the moment of truth.

At precisely 5:00 a.m., Ethan initiated the sequence.

The piercing shriek of an air horn erupted from the hidden speaker. It was a perfect, flawless replication. Ethan watched, his heart a steady, cold drum in his chest. On the other side of the room, Leo jolted, groaning in his sleep.

Then came the death metal riff, followed by the rooster crow. Leo’s body, conditioned for this auditory abuse, went through the motions. He slapped at his phone on the nightstand, his eyes still screwed shut. Finding it silent, a flicker of confusion crossed his face before he flopped back onto the pillow, pulling it over his head.

The sequence continued, a ten-minute barrage of noise an hour ahead of schedule. When it finally fell silent at 5:10 a.m., Leo was breathing heavily, his sleep disturbed but unbroken. At 6:00 a.m., when his actual phone alarm went off, he groaned with genuine agony and slammed the snooze button with more force than usual.

Phase One was a success.

For the next week, Ethan repeated the process with unnerving discipline. He became a creature of the pre-dawn hours, a silent puppet master of sound waves. Every morning at 5:00 a.m., the hidden emitter would play its ten-minute concert.

Ethan, through his [Observation] skill, cataloged the results meticulously.

[Day 2: Subject exhibits heightened irritability. Complained of 'shitty sleep' to a friend on the phone. Conditioned response remains intact.]

[Day 4: Subject’s brain is beginning to disassociate the auditory stimulus from the act of waking. Slept through the first four replicated alarms. Minor psychological stress detected.]

[Day 6: Subject slept through all ten replicated alarms. His subconscious is learning to classify the entire sequence as non-threatening background noise. The conditioning is taking hold.]

The friction in the room became a palpable entity. Leo, perpetually sleep-deprived and on edge, grew more belligerent. He started leaving passive-aggressive notes about the cleanliness of the bathroom, slammed the door harder than usual, and played his music even louder during the day. He had no idea what was wrong, so he lashed out at the only available target: Ethan.

Their simmering conflict finally drew official attention. Chloe Jenkins, the floor’s RA, knocked on their door one afternoon. She held a clipboard, her expression a practiced blend of concern and authority.

“Hey guys, can we talk for a minute?” she asked, her eyes scanning the stark contrast between Ethan’s neat territory and Leo’s chaotic mess. “I’ve had a couple of noise complaints. And honestly, the tension coming from this room is so thick I could use it as a paperweight.”

Leo, who was nursing a headache, immediately went on the offensive. “It’s him,” he grumbled, hooking a thumb toward Ethan. “He’s always just sitting there, staring. It’s creepy. Gives me the creeps.”

Ethan looked up from his textbook, crafting his expression into one of weary resignation. He’d been practicing it in the mirror. “I’m just trying to study, Chloe,” he said, his voice soft and reasonable. “Leo’s lifestyle is… energetic. I do my best to tune it out.”

Chloe’s gaze softened slightly as it fell on him. She saw a diligent, scholarship student trying to survive next to a spoiled party animal. It was a classic, open-and-shut case of incompatible roommates.

“Leo, you know the rules about quiet hours,” she said, her tone firming up. “And Ethan, I know it’s tough, but try to communicate directly if there’s a problem before it gets to me.”

“I’ve tried,” Ethan said, letting a note of hopelessness creep into his voice. He glanced at the whiskey bottle on his desk, the one he’d kept as a cold reminder of his purpose. Chloe’s eyes followed his. He saw the flicker of understanding and sympathy in her expression. He had her.

She gave Leo a final warning look and left. Leo just scoffed and put on his headphones. The interaction was perfect. He was reinforcing the narrative: Leo was the aggressor, and he was the long-suffering victim.

On the morning of the eighth day, after successfully running the 5:00 a.m. alarm sequence to a completely unresponsive Leo, a new notification pinged on Ethan’s System interface.

[Weekly Objective Complete: ‘Pavlov’s Ruin - Phase One’] [Target’s neural pathways successfully reconditioned. The auditory sequence is now classified by the target’s subconscious as ignorable stimuli.] [Reward: 25 Karmic Points.]

A feeling of profound satisfaction washed over Ethan. It was the detached pride of a scientist whose hypothesis has been proven correct. But the System wasn't finished. A new, smaller window popped up, flashing with a green border.

[New Side-Quest Issued: Academic Inconvenience] [Objective: Leverage the target’s current state to cause him to miss a minor academic deadline.] [Reward: 15 Karmic Points, [Observation] Skill Upgrade.] [Time Limit: 48 hours.]

Ethan’s lips curved into a predatory smile. He already knew the perfect deadline. A Macroeconomics problem set, due tomorrow at noon. A class Leo bragged about never attending. A submission he would normally have a friend handle, but whose own exhaustion and irritability might make him forget to ask.

The game was escalating. This wasn't just about sleep anymore. It was about introducing real-world consequences, tiny little cracks in the gilded cage of Leo’s life. He felt a cold, exhilarating thrill course through him. It was a feeling of pure, unadulterated power. The power not just to punish, but to meticulously, artfully, and invisibly dismantle his enemy piece by piece.