Ding!
"Wish granted!"
A sweet female voice echoed in the ears of a young man, snapping him out of his thoughts.
He blinked.
His name was Ethan, and by all accounts, he was the definition of average. At eighteen years old, he had never been in a relationship. Girls barely spared him a second glance, and his reflection in the mirror had long been a source of quiet disappointment. His features were plain, unremarkable—just another face in the crowd.
But today… today was different.
"Argh…!"
A sudden burning sensation spread across his face, searing his skin like molten fire. His vision blurred, and his knees nearly buckled under the intensity of the pain. It lasted for just a single breath, but it felt like an eternity. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone.
Panting, Ethan clutched the edge of his desk, steadying himself. His heart pounded like a drum inside his chest.
"What the hell was that?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.
His gaze flickered around the room, searching for anything out of place. But nothing had changed. His tiny bedroom, the unmade bed, the half-empty instant noodle cups on his desk—it was all the same. The only difference was the phantom pain lingering on his skin.
And then he saw it.
The mirror.
With hesitant steps, he moved closer, his breath hitching in his throat.
"What the f—"
The person staring back at him wasn't him.
Not exactly.
The body was still his. Same height, same build. But the face… The face was something else entirely.
Ethan gawked at his reflection, his fingers trembling as they touched his cheek. Smooth. His skin, once plagued with blemishes, was now flawless. His dull brown eyes had turned a piercing shade of blue—striking, almost unnaturally vivid. His jawline, which had once been soft and unimpressive, was now sharp enough to cut glass.
He looked like a damn movie star.
No—he looked better than a movie star.
An unsettling thought crossed his mind.
"If I didn't know this was me, I might have fallen in love with my own face."
He chuckled, but the sound was breathless. It was too surreal. His mind raced, trying to make sense of the impossible.
"Wait a minute…"
His memories rewound, replaying the last thing he remembered.
I made a wish. And it came true.
His stomach flipped.
"Does this mean… I have a wish-granting system?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
That couldn't be possible, could it? Systems like that only existed in novels. If someone gained an overpowered ability, it was usually after dying and getting reincarnated or transmigrated.
But Ethan was still here. Alive. No truck had hit him. No mysterious deity had appeared to grant him a second life.
And yet, he had just rewritten his own existence.
Excitement surged through him. If this was real, if this was truly happening… then the possibilities were endless.
"System?" he called out. "Are you there?"
Silence.
He frowned. Maybe it worked differently.
He waited a few more seconds, straining his ears. Nothing.
His lips curled into a smirk.
"Should I test it again?"
The answer was obvious.
With a deep breath, he prepared himself. If one wish had worked, then surely another would, too.
His pulse quickened, and he grinned.
"I wish I were—"