The toilet paper roll was empty. It was the smallest of tragedies, yet it felt like the final blow.
June sat there in the silence of his small apartment, staring at the cardboard tube. At twenty-eight, his life was a curated collection of manga volumes and anime figurines, a comfortable existence of unemployment and digital escapism. He had spent the last few hours in a battle of wills with his own digestive system, a struggle that had finally reached a critical breaking point. As he strained, a sudden, violent spike of pressure shot through his chest, radiating outward like a shockwave. He tried to gasp, but his lungs felt as though they had been replaced by lead.
The sensation was strangely clinical. He felt a snap—not a sound, but a feeling—deep within his heart. The effort of the moment had been too much for his body to handle. His vision blurred, the white tiles of the bathroom floor swirling into a grey mist, and his head slumped forward. He didn't even have time to reach for the door handle before the world went black, leaving him slumped over in the most undignified position imaginable.
When the light returned, it wasn't the harsh fluorescent glow of his bathroom. He was floating in a vast, shimmering void of iridescent white. There were no walls, no ceiling, and most importantly, no more stomach pain. Standing before him was a figure that defied a single description—sometimes appearing as an old man with a gentle smile, other times as a towering pillar of golden light.
"You died pooping," the entity said, its voice echoing with a warmth that felt like a physical embrace. "It is a rare way to go, though not entirely uncommon for those with your... sedentary lifestyle."
"Wait, actually died?" June asked, his voice sounding oddly clear. "From... that?"
The entity sighed, a sound like a thousand wind chimes. "Yes, June. To be precise, you suffered a catastrophic cardiovascular event triggered by the Valsalva maneuver. In simpler terms: you pushed so hard during your final moments of constipation that you spiked your blood pressure to a lethal level. Your heart, already weakened by years of takeout ramen and a complete lack of cardiovascular exercise, simply gave up. You essentially squeezed the life out of yourself while trying to clear your bowels."
June felt a wave of profound embarrassment wash over him. He had always dreamed of a dramatic death—perhaps saving a child from a burning building or falling in battle—but to be told by the Creator of the Universe that he died of a strained bowel movement was a level of humiliation he hadn't prepared for. He imagined his body currently slumped over the porcelain, a pathetic heap of a man who had been defeated by a stubborn piece of fiber.
"Well," the entity continued, its golden light softening. "The universe has a strange sense of humor, but you are here now. As a consolation for such an... unglamorous exit, I am granting you a fresh start. You may have three wishes to shape your new existence. Be thoughtful, June. This is not a game, though you are welcome to make it feel like one."
June's mind immediately shifted into high gear. As a devourer of manga and light novels, he knew exactly how to optimize a starting build. He didn't want to just be strong; he wanted the infrastructure of power. "First," June began, his eyes gleaming, "I want a leveling system. Not just stats, but a comprehensive interface. And I want a 'Great Sage'—an internal AI that can analyze the world, translate any language, and optimize my skills so I don't have to guess how things work."
"A leveling system is a good foundation," the entity remarked, the golden light pulsing with a rhythmic hum. "But you are thinking small, June. You are treating this like a mere game when you have the chance to rewrite the laws of your own existence."
June grinned, his confidence growing as he realized the scale of the opportunity. "That's why my second wish is for absolute ownership. I don't want to be a servant to the system or a pawn to its hidden quests. I want to be the Admin. I want full control over the interface, the ability to modify my own growth curves, and most importantly, a Shop. Not just a shop with a few potions, but a cosmic marketplace where I can purchase any skill, power, or item from every fantasy world, anime, or novel ever written. If a legendary blade exists in a story, I want to be able to buy it. If a god-tier spell exists in a manga, I want it available for the right price."
The entity seemed amused, perhaps even impressed by June's audacity. "Absolute ownership. A bold request, but granted. You shall be the master of your own mechanics."
"And for the finishing touches," June continued, his voice gaining excitement, "I want the system to include a spatial storage—an infinite pocket dimension where time stands still for my items. And finally, a 'Daily Check-in' feature. Every single day I wake up, the system should grant me a reward. Sometimes it's just points for the shop, sometimes it's a rare item, and sometimes it's a permanent power-up. I want a progression that scales from the lowest level of a peasant all the way to a cosmic entity that transcends space and time."
The iridescent void suddenly flared with a blinding intensity. The entity stepped forward, its form now a towering silhouette of pure energy. "Your greed is matched only by your imagination, June. A leveling system, absolute ownership with a multi-versal shop, and the luck of the daily draw. You have crafted a blueprint for a god."
"Wait!" June shouted, his heart leaping. "There's one more thing. I can't do this alone. Please, bring my friend Joseph. He's the only one who would actually appreciate the irony of how I died. Give him a system too, or just let him tag along—I'll take care of him."
The entity paused, a ripple of golden light washing over the void. "A request for another? Very well. A bonus for the most peculiar death of the millennium. I shall bind your souls to this journey together."
Before June could ask how Joseph would react to being suddenly snatched from Earth, the world collapsed. The white void vanished, replaced by a rushing sensation of wind and salt. He felt his body reforming—stronger, leaner, and pulsing with a strange, electric energy.
[DING!]
A translucent blue screen snapped into existence right before his eyes.
[Welcome, Admin June!]
The screen hovered in the air, pulsing with a soft, neon glow. June blinked, feeling the grit of sand beneath his boots and the sudden, sharp scent of brine filling his nostrils. He wasn't in a void anymore; he was standing on a sun-drenched beach with turquoise water that looked like it had been painted by a master.
"What the hell? June? Is that you?"
"Joseph?" June spun around, his voice sounding strangely high-pitched.
Standing a few feet away was a boy who looked like a confused puppy. He had the same wide eyes and messy hair as the Joseph June had known for years, but the proportions were all wrong. Joseph looked down at his hands, then at his chest, and let out a yell that sounded more like a startled bird than a thirty-year-old man.
"Why is my voice like this? June, why am I... small?"
June looked down at himself and gasped. He wasn't the sedentary, bloated man who had met his end on a porcelain throne. He was lean, his skin was tanned, and his limbs felt springy and full of untapped energy. He looked at Joseph and realized they had both been shrunk. They weren't just younger; they were children. Based on the sudden surge of instinct and the way the world felt, he guessed they were around fourteen.
"We've been reset," June whispered, a grin spreading across his face. "Joseph, look at where we are! The sand, the ocean... we're in the One Piece world!"
"Wait, let me see," Joseph muttered, his voice cracking in a way that was halfway between a teenager and a confused toddler. He stepped closer to a tide pool, staring at his reflection in the clear water. "What is this? Why am I... actually hot?"
June laughed, feeling a strange lightness in his own chest. He walked over and stood beside his friend, both of them staring at the mirrored surface. They weren't just younger; they had been upgraded. June's once-pale, sallow skin was now a healthy golden tan, and his jawline had sharpened into something that belonged on a shonen manga cover. He felt agile, his muscles lean and efficient, stripped of the lethargy that had defined his twenty-eight years.
Joseph, meanwhile, looked like he had been redesigned by a professional artist. The awkwardness of his thirties had vanished, replaced by a youthful, athletic build and eyes that sparkled with a newfound clarity. They were both fourteen years old—the same age as Monkey D. Luffy would be during his early childhood adventures. They looked like protagonists, the kind of kids who naturally drew people toward them.
"We're fourteen," June realized, his eyes widening as the math clicked in his head. "Joseph, if we're fourteen now, that means the main story hasn't even started yet. Luffy is probably still a kid in Windmill Village, or maybe he's just starting to train. We have years—maybe a whole decade—of head-start time before the Great Pirate Era really hits the fan."
Joseph let out a breath, the initial shock fading into a slow, mischievous grin. "So you're telling me we have a massive head start? We can actually train? We can get strong before the monsters of the New World even know we exist?"