<Diaros Academy>, there’s a game by that name. Players can freely play as male or female protagonists, and it allows for male-oriented harems, female-oriented reverse harems, and even yuri fan service to BL “crap-gay” content based on whatever concept you desire.
The freedom to do whatever the player wants! Countless grinding elements!
…or so the game was advertised with over-the-top bravado.
“This is seriously a god-tier game!”
My childhood friend was an ardent superfan of the game. So much so that they nagged me every single day to play it.
I wasn’t interested in games at all, but my overly zealous childhood friend somehow convinced me to close my eyes and give it a shot.
When my friend heard I had played the game, they rushed over to my house to ask for my thoughts. After contemplating for an amount of time long enough for light to travel across the Earth three times, I finally gave my review.
“How was it!? How was it!?”
“The protagonist’s chest was small. Just like yours.”
“Well, still bigger than yours.”
“No, that’s not true. My chest is bigger than yours, right?”
“You’re the loser who can’t even jerk off because you’ll lose muscle gains.”
“Hmm… sorry. I don’t associate with people who have smaller chests than me.”
Watching my red-faced, trembling friend, I let out a snicker.
That’s what you get for not being born with a bigger chest. I picked up the game package, whose name I barely remembered, and said,
“Anyway, this game is trash. Women with big chests are the best, period. Oh, the heroines that show up midway have big chests, though—I did like that part.”
“…You damn pervert who only cares about chests! You’ll die from obsessing over growing your own chest!”
After shouting that, my childhood friend stormed out of the house. As I considered chasing after her, I suddenly remembered today was the day I aimed to break my lower body workout record.
‘I’ll apologize later, whatever…’
Realizing that running after her now might strain my lower body and jeopardize my chances of setting a new personal best, I decided against it.
Instead of chasing my friend, I went to the gym. After stretching, I attempted to break my squat max weight record—and then my brain hemorrhaged, and I collapsed.
As I felt hundreds of kilograms pressing down on me, I carefully raised a finger.
“100kg more…”
It’s an unspoken rule that when you die while lifting, you increase the weight.
Understanding my wishes, the nearby spear bros quietly added more plates.
* * *
“Mmm.”
When I opened my eyes, I realized I had reincarnated into the game I’d last played before dying.
