That night, after his first day of school, John lay on the small bed in his New York apartment.
The city hummed outside the window — cars, sirens, footsteps, voices blending into the constant urban heartbeat.
He had barely closed his eyes when the system pulsed to life.
A cool blue interface unfolded in front of him.
[CELEBRITY SYSTEM — MAIN QUEST UNLOCKED]
John sat up.
[Mission: Create and Publish Your First Song]
[Reward: 200 Popularity Points | Unlock Basic Voice Enhancement]
His eyebrows shot up.
"…That's it? I just need to make one song?"
The system responded immediately:
[Correction: You must create a song that attracts listeners.]
[Distribution will be handled automatically.]
[Goal: Begin your rise as a world-changing artist.]
He let out a slow breath, thinking.
Making a song wasn't a problem — but making a good one? One that could pull millions of people in?
He needed inspiration.
Out of habit, he opened YouTube on his phone, looking up the artists he loved back in his first life — the ones who carried Latin music around the world.
Bad Bunny.
Ozuna.
Romeo Santos.
Prince Royce.
Natti Natasha.
Karol G.
One by one… nothing came up.
The search bar stayed empty every time.
He tried again.
Different spelling.
Different phrasing.
More artists.
Reggaeton classics, bachata legends, Dominican icons.
Nothing.
The algorithm didn't even recognize the names.
A strange chill ran down his spine.
"…They don't exist here."
Slowly, he looked up from his phone.
The room was quiet — too quiet for a world missing the music he'd grown up with.
No reggaeton playing from passing cars.
No bachata drifting from open windows.
No Dominican rhythms booming from bodegas.
It felt wrong.
Like something massive was missing from culture itself.
The system flashed again, as if confirming his thoughts.
[Observation: This universe's musical timeline is incomplete.]
[Several genres have yet to be created or popularized.]
John stared at the glowing text.
"So Latin music… hasn't been invented yet?"
[Affirmative.]
[This world lacks the artists who shaped your original universe.]
[Your knowledge gives you an extraordinary advantage.]
He leaned back in his chair, mind racing.
If he wrote even one of the hits he remembered…
If he recreated a single song from the artists who didn't exist here…
He could change everything.
Music. Culture.
And—
He glanced at the system interface —
Power.
Real power he'd need to survive the Marvel universe.
A faint profile window opened:
[Current Popularity Points: 0]
[Combat Abilities: Locked]
He frowned.
All the power he needed — superhuman strength, reflexes, magic, even things like chi reinforcement — everything was locked behind the system's point shop.
And the only way to earn points?
Music.
He rubbed his temples.
"So the first step to surviving Marvel is… making a banger?"
[Correct.]
He let out a short laugh.
It was insane.
But it made a strange, perfect kind of sense.
He opened his notebook — blank pages staring back at him — and placed the pen at the top.
"What song should I start with…?" he whispered.
His mind raced through memories:
bachata melodies
reggaeton beats
Latin pop hooks
old classics
Something new yet familiar began to form.
His fingers tapped the rhythm on the desk.
Slow.
Soft.
Emotional.
A song that had changed everything in his old life.
He closed his eyes.
Yeah…
He knew exactly which one he was going to bring into this world.
With a deep breath, he began writing.
The first spark of a musical revolution — a revolution only he could start — filled the room.
And somewhere in the corner of his vision, the system glowed brighter, waiting for its first upload