Jordan stared at his phone screen as golden light pulsed through the car’s interior, casting strange shadows across the dashboard. The wheel had stopped, and text materialized across the display in bold letters. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

===

✨ BRONZE GACHA RESULT ✨

[Tune Up]

|Rare Trait|

Your body has received a Tune Up. All previous health complications resulting from your neglectful lifestyle have been permanently erased. Latent genetic potential unlocked. Muscle mass, cardiovascular health, and postural alignment optimized to peak baseline.

WARNING: This is not permanent. Maintenance required through proper diet, exercise, and self-care. Neglect will result in gradual regression to baseline condition.

===

Jordan read the notification three times. His brain processed the words but couldn’t quite connect them to reality.

Previous health complications erased. Latent genetic potential increased. Fit and healthy body.

"What does that even—"

Warmth flooded through him.

It started in his chest, spreading outward like someone had poured hot chocolate directly into his bloodstream. Not burning. Not uncomfortable. Just pleasant heat radiating through every muscle, every joint, every cell.

Jordan’s hands gripped the steering wheel as the sensation intensified. His shoulders relaxed without him thinking about it. His lower back, which had been a constant low-grade ache since the cleaning marathon, loosened and straightened. His knees, which sometimes clicked when he walked up stairs, went silent and smooth.

The warmth reached his face. His skin tingled. His jaw felt different. Stronger. His neck thickened slightly, gaining definition he’d never had before.

Jordan gasped. His lungs expanded further than they should have. Air flowed easier. Cleaner. Like someone had unclogged pipes he didn’t know were blocked.

His stomach contracted. Not painfully. Just tightening. Solidifying. The soft layer of fat that had lived there since high school melted away under invisible hands, revealing muscle underneath that shouldn’t exist yet.

Jordan looked down at his chest. Even through his new button-up shirt, he could see his body had changed shape. Broader shoulders. Narrower waist. The fabric pulled differently across his frame.

Holy shit.

The warmth faded, leaving behind a body that felt fundamentally different. Jordan sat there breathing hard, not from exertion but from shock. His heart beat strong and steady in his chest. No racing. No panic. Just calm, powerful rhythm.

He needed to see.

Jordan killed the engine and climbed out of the Civic. The Target parking lot stretched around him under fluorescent lights, mostly empty now as the store approached closing time. Nobody paid attention to the guy standing next to a white Honda looking at his phone.

Jordan walked around to the back of his car where the streetlight didn’t reach as directly. He set his phone on the trunk, opened his new bomber jacket, and started unbuttoning his shirt.

The fabric fell away.

Abs. Actual abs. Six of them, clearly defined, running down his stomach in a pattern that belonged on fitness Instagram, not on a guy who’d spent two weeks eating cold pizza and watching League of Legends streams. A V-line cut down from his hips toward his waistband, sharp enough to cast shadows.

His chest had muscle now. Pecs that actually existed instead of soft shapeless flesh. His shoulders were broader, rounder, like someone had inflated them slightly without making him look cartoonish.

Jordan turned around and craned his neck to see his back in the Civic’s rear window reflection. The streetlight behind him created just enough contrast. His back had that tapered shape he’d seen on guys at the gym, wide at the shoulders and narrow at the waist. Muscle groups he couldn’t name formed visible patterns under his skin.

His arms looked different too. Bigger. Not huge, but substantial. Forearms with visible veins. Biceps that actually filled out his shirtsleeves instead of just existing inside them.

Jordan ran his hand over his stomach. The abs were real. Solid. He pressed harder. Firm muscle underneath, no give at all. His fingers traced the V-line down to his jeans.

This is insane.

He pulled his shirt back on and buttoned it up, fingers shaking slightly. The fabric fit better now. Filled out properly instead of hanging loose. His shoulders pushed against the seams in a way that looked intentional rather than sloppy.

Jordan grabbed his phone and opened the camera app. He switched to selfie mode and held it at arm’s length.

The guy staring back at him was still Jordan McKnight. Same hazel eyes. Same newly fixed hair. Same face. But different. His jawline was sharper. His cheekbones more prominent. His neck thicker and more defined. He looked like someone had taken the Jordan from yesterday and upgraded him to the version that actually went to the gym and ate protein.

This is what I could have been if I hadn’t spent eighteen years being a lazy piece of shit.

Jordan checked the notification again. The warning at the bottom glowed slightly.

WARNING: This is not permanent. Maintenance required through proper diet, exercise, and self-care. Neglect will result in gradual regression to baseline condition.

So it’s like New Game Plus. I got handed an upgraded body, but if I go back to eating garbage and sitting on my ass all day, it’ll disappear.

That’s fair, actually. The System wasn’t giving him a free pass. It was giving him a head start.

Jordan climbed back into his car and sat there looking at his reflection in the rearview mirror. His face had changed just enough that he barely recognized himself. Not a different person. Just a better version. The version that could have existed if he’d made better choices.

He looked down at his phone. The gacha interface was still open.

CURRENT BALANCE: 11 TICKETS

Bronze Gacha: 1 pull remaining available

Jordan’s finger hovered over the button.

That was a rare trait. From a bronze pull. The lowest tier. What would silver give him? What about gold?

But he only had eleven tickets. He needed ten for another bronze pull. He’d have one ticket left over.

Fuck it. I’m riding the high.

===

[A/N:]

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