James thought over his choices, eyes flicking across the glowing words still hovering in front of him. Each one pulsed with a faint shimmer, like they were waiting for him to make a move. The soft light cast shadows along the floor beneath his feet—his bare feet, he realized, toes curling slightly against the smooth stone.
Harem was out. Sure, he liked sex—he wasn't made of stone—but the idea of getting stronger just by sleeping around? That was insane. Like some busted fantasy trope turned real. How something like that even existed... People, he thought, shaking his head slightly.
"People," the old man echoed, snorting without looking up. He was still examining his nails, flicking a speck of nothing from one finger with all the gravity of someone inspecting royal jewels.
James let out a slow sigh. The mind-reading thing was starting to wear on him. It was like trying to think with your phone on speaker and someone listening in.
He scratched the back of his neck, glancing again at the Check-In System. It gleamed silver, neat and neutral, but it didn't sit right. He had no clue where—or when—he'd land in this new world. Maybe some backwater island with nothing but sand and seagulls. He wasn't going to bank on finding a shrine or ancient ruin just to get stronger. Sailing out weak was a good way to sink fast.
And the Quest System? Peter frowned. No matter how he spun it, it felt like a cosmic to-do list. Tasks, fetch-this, kill-that, follow some glowing arrow. He didn't need a floating clipboard telling him how to live.
He crossed his arms and took a long breath. Only two choices left. Both still glowing, both humming like they knew he was close.
He shifted his stance, weight sinking into his heels. Time to decide.
James was about to speak, having made up his mind, when the old man finally looked up. He'd been fiddling with his fingernails again, but the slight tilt of his head suggested he'd been waiting for this exact moment.
"Ah, the training room," the man said, his grin pulling back across his face like a curtain. "I would've bet my bottom dollar you'd go with Harem… guess you're not the type to fuck around."
He chuckled at his own joke, shoulders giving a lazy shrug like the whole thing amused him more than it should have. James didn't bother replying. The mind-reading routine had already passed the point of novelty.
"Alright then," the man said, straightening a little. "Which version would you like?"
James blinked. "Version?"
"Yes," the man said, stepping toward the glowing word and tapping the air like he was flipping through a list only he could see. "Each system comes in tiers. This one goes from F to SSS. F's basic, borderline bare minimum. SSS…" He gave a low whistle. "That one's premium—advanced features, better customization, faster growth curve. You name it."
James watched him carefully, mulling it over. "And I qualify for that?"
"With your karma?" the man said with a scoff, giving James a sidelong glance. "You could afford the deluxe buffet, son."
The grin stayed, but his tone shifted just slightly. "That said, you mentioned something earlier. You want to be born in a place where you can find your wife—where that Vivre Card can actually do its job.
James thought of something and cut in. "I want a safe environment. A town. Somewhere coastal but quiet, not a warzone. Like Luffy's start or even a little safer.
The old man raised a brow, clearly entertained. "Safe. More safe. Or perfectly safe?"
James frowned slightly. "How big's the gap between them?"
The man hummed and tapped his chin theatrically, like he was running invisible numbers. He even used both hands, counting off fingers. "Well, if you want everything - stable childhood, memory retention, clean environment, access to the sea, and that fancy soul bound Vivre Card—you're at a S rank training system.
He paused, then added, "Now if you want perfect—zero risk, zero trouble, maximum advantage—you'll be looking at the A-rank Training Room instead. Still good. Still powerful. But not quite the same edge."
James rubbed his chin, thumb moving along the freshly smooth skin. That magical shave earlier had left his face almost too clean, like a blank slate. Fitting, really. He was deciding how that slate would be written.
The man didn't say anything else. Just went back to inspecting his nails, clearly content to let the weight of the choice speak for itself.
What's the big difference between A and S? James thought, eyes drifting slightly as he weighed his options. The man across from him let out an exaggerated sigh, tilting his head like a teacher tired of explaining homework.
"I won't go into the particulars—not that I could—but even if I could, I wouldn't," he said, tossing in a familiar ribbit for good measure.
James grimaced. The frog reference again. He didn't bother reacting. Let the man enjoy himself.
The old man rocked back on his heels, then launched into an explanation with a theatrical flourish of his hand. "A is like going out to a fancy pizza chain. Real clean place, nice booths, waiter refills your drink before you even notice. Solid experience. But at the end of the day—it's a chain. S, on the other hand, that's like getting pizza from your neighborhood spot. Same family's run it for forty years. They know your name, they know your order. It's not just good—it's got heart."
James raised an eyebrow. "And SSS?"
The man's grin grew sharp. "That's the kind of pizza a five-star Michelin chef prepares himself—sourdough base, fresh imported ingredients, cooked in a wood-fired oven flown in from Naples. He finishes it off with gold-leaf basil and hand-delivers it to your table with a glass of wine picked just for the sauce."
James blinked once, then stared. That had to be the strangest analogy he'd heard today, maybe in his entire life. And as the thought hit, he immediately regretted it.
"Of course," the man said, already tuning into his thoughts, "there are other ways to describe it, but you—"
"I know," James muttered before he could finish. "Frog. Bottom of a well."
The man chuckled, clearly amused by James's impatience. He tapped his fingers against his robe in a steady rhythm, then leaned forward ever so slightly.
"So," he said, voice casual, like they were discussing the weather. "What'll it be?"
James took a breath and let it out slow, his thumb brushing the edge of his chin again—still smooth. Still fresh. He'd committed to a path the moment he chose the Training System. May as well follow it through.
"S rank," he said firmly.
The man's eyes lit up, and he clapped once with a little too much energy. "Aw, finally. We're done. Well—unless…"
James's gaze sharpened. "Unless what?"
"Well, you know," the man began, stretching his arms overhead like he was shaking off cobwebs, "my job here is… kind of boring. Millennia of box-checking, really. Forms, protocols, approvals—it's a lot less dramatic than it sounds. But your system happens to need an administrator. Now, we could go the old-fashioned route—stick you with some faceless AI, all clean and efficient—but I had a better idea."
He lowered his arms and leaned slightly forward, grin spreading across his face. "I was thinking I could split off a sliver of my consciousness. You know… personally oversee your system. Keep things smooth."
James blinked. "Administrator?"
The term was familiar. Administrators didn't make the rules—they enforced them. Explained them. In his old life, they were like the shift supervisors in the department. They kept everything running, but someone else higher up made the decisions. You respected the uniform, even if the person in it made you roll your eyes.
At first, James was about to say absolutely not. No way. But then something clicked in his head. A thought, quiet but direct.
"Did you write the rules of the system?"
The man blinked. "Well, yes—"
James held up a hand. "Then no thanks."
The man's smile cracked. "Wait, wait, wait. I can have someone else do it."
James raised a brow. "Someone kind? Someone fair?"
"Like me?" the man asked, voice light.
James stared. "Not like you."
The man gave an exaggerated sigh. "Alright. I can arrange for someone impartial. Fair. Do we have a deal?"
James exhaled. He wasn't sure how much choice he had, but the idea of the man who made the rules also enforcing them didn't sit right. "And if I don't agree?"
The man's grin turned toothy. He wiggled his eyebrows with mock menace, leaning in just enough to feel deliberate. "Then I'll write your system rules," he said, like a cartoon villain dangling a big red button.
ames stared at him. "Fine. But no mind reading."
The man gasped. "But that's the best part! It saves so much time." He crossed his arms, clearly offended.
The man was quick to offer Monday through Wednesday as mind-reading days, saying he'd stay out of James's head Thursday through Sunday.
That made James pause. It felt a little too generous.
He grew suspicious—why offer four full days off the table? Then it hit him. Did the One Piece world even use normal weekday names?
Not being sure, he negotiated it down to every other day instead. It felt safer. Simpler. And harder to twist.
Well, James had finished the negotiation. The man clapped his hands once, the sound sharp in the quiet space, then rubbed his palms together like he'd just signed off on a paperwork stack he didn't plan to revisit. "Pleasure doing business with you," he said with a grin. "Guess we'll see each other on the other side. Excited?"
James looked at him. Not a glare, not confusion—just quiet consideration. The question settled in his chest like a stone tossed into still water.
"Honestly… I don't know," James said at last, voice low. His eyes drifted slightly, not quite focused on anything in particular. "Kinda hard to be excited when you don't know where you're going. Or who you'll be when you get there."
The man didn't press. Instead, he rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck like he was switching tracks. "So—how far did you even get in the show? One Piece."
James rubbed his chin, the gesture almost automatic. "Uh, the part after he fights that Flamingo guy. Read a little past that. But by then, we'd already moved on to something else. Shawn found this newer one—Black Clover. Said we should wait for more to come out so we could binge it properly. That was more our pace at the time."
"Ahhh," the man said, drawing the sound out like he'd just uncovered a missing puzzle piece. "So you missed some of the important things."
James narrowed his eyes slightly. "What important things?"
But the man only grinned wider, that same irritating twinkle in his eye. He didn't answer.
"Oh, this is going to be fun," he said instead—just as the white light surged up around James' feet, climbing fast. A strange pressure filled the air, like being inside a balloon right before it popped.
That was the last thing James heard before it all went blank.