Reincarnated
There was a game called Dairos Academy. Players could freely choose to play as either the male or female protagonist, and the game supported any concept imaginable—from male-targeted harems and female-targeted reverse harems to yuri or even BL trash. It boasted complete freedom to do whatever you wanted, along with countless hidden elements to discover. ……At least, that was the over-the-top sales pitch in its advertisements.
“This game is seriously god-tier!” My childhood friend was an absolute fanatic. He nagged me every single day to play it. I had zero interest in games, but she was so persistent that I eventually caved and gave it a shot.
The moment she heard I’d played it, she rushed straight over and demanded my thoughts. After spending what felt like three round trips of light around the Earth thinking it over, I finally answered.
“So!? How was it!?”
“The protagonist’s chest was pretty small. Just like yours.”
“Yeah, bigger than yours.”
“No, that’s not how it works. My chest is definitely bigger than yours.”
“Next time you lose muscle mass, you impotent bastard won’t even be able to jerk off.”
“Hoo…… Sorry. I don’t associate with people who have smaller chests than me.”
Looking down at my friend, whose face had turned bright red as she trembled with rage, I let out a small laugh. That’s why you should’ve been born with bigger breasts. I picked up the game package whose title I could barely remember and said,
“Anyway, this game is trash. Big breasts are the best. Ah, the heroines that showed up midway had huge ones though—that part was pretty good.”
“……You perverted bastard who only cares about breasts! Go die while trying to make the breasts you like even bigger!”
After shouting that, my childhood friend stormed out of the house. I was about to chase after her when I remembered today was the day I planned to break my lower-body record.
‘I can just apologize later……’
If I went running after her and strained my legs, I might fail the lift. So instead of chasing her, I headed to the gym. After stretching, I attempted a new squat PR—only for a blood vessel in my brain to burst. As I collapsed beneath hundreds of kilograms, I weakly raised a finger.
“1, add another 100kg……”
It was gym etiquette to add more weight when someone died mid-lift. As if they understood, the surrounding meatheads quietly loaded another plate.
“Waaah.”
When I opened my eyes, I realized I had reincarnated into the very game I’d been playing right before I died.