?"Coming to you live from Cerou Street, this is MBP News, and we have an unfolding situation to report. Latest night, at approximately 3:00 AM, an explosive-like sound reverberated through this area, disrupting the sleep of residents and instilling fear in their hearts," the news anchor, a striking figure, delivered the report with poise, standing before the camera amidst a bustling scene.


    In the background, the ring horns of ambnces and police vehicles disturbed the serenity of the beautiful morning light. Two individuals wearing protective suits, presumably forensic experts, held a stretcher carrying a charred body.


    The news anchor, who had been reporting earlier, ced a hand on her ear, fitted with an earpiece, and looked visibly surprised. Her voice filled with urgency as she continued, "We have just received an update from our headquarters regarding the sole fatality in this unexpected incident. The victim of this tragic event is none other than Norman, the famous gigolo of Night pce."


    "My colleague, who was set to cover an event today at Nightce, obtained this information firsthand from Countess Maria, who held a special ce for Norman in her heart. Our focus this morning is on this breaking news," the female news reporter continued amidst the chaotic scene, while Norman''s charred bodyy alone in the ambnce.


    Meanwhile, in a different world, a young boyy fast asleep with his head on the table. The sun, seemingly displeased with the boy''s carefree slumber, cast its rays directly onto his face. Annoyed by the intrusion, the boy shifted his head in another direction, unwilling to be roused from his deep sleep.


    *ZZZr Zzrz Zzrzzr* However, an additional source disturbed his sleep, filling the room with a buzzing sound. The boy furrowed his brows in annoyance, his eyes still closed. He searched his surroundings and discovered a ss-like b. With closed eyes, he slid his finger across it and ced it near his ear.


    "Hello..." he mumbled in his drowsy voice, which carried a hint of depth.


    "Hey, Pissed-up Prat, where are you?" a voiceced with disdain emanated from the b.


    The boy, referred to as the "Pissed-up Prat" by the irritating female voice, recognized it as a voice he heard frequently but couldn''t recall its owner. With his eyes still closed, he inquired, "Who is this?"


    "What do you mean, ''who is this''? Wake up,e home, or eat shit for breakfast if you prefer!" the voice behind the transparent b retorted before falling silent.


    The boy, still not fully awakened, gazed at the half-opened ss b with a mixture of confusion and surprise. As his eyes darted around the room, he became increasingly shocked.


    As he recollected the fragmented memories from the night before he lost consciousness, his gaze fell upon the entrance of the shop. Once old and damp, it now bore a different appearance. While not transformed into a luxurious space, it had undergone improvementspared to its previously dpidated state.


    The shop took on a rectangr shape, with one longer side adorned with wooden shelves intricately patterned. Rows of empty ss jars lined these shelves. On the opposite side, there was another wooden shelf, also disying empty jars. Towards the beginning of the counter, where the boy had been sleeping, there stood a peculiar machine.


    Confusion etched across his face, he murmured to himself, "Whose shop is this?"


    In response to his question, a mechanical voice resonated in his mind.


    [The Omnistore belongs to you, host.]


    If the teenager wasn''t fully awake before, he certainly was now. The memory of this mechanical voice also came rushing back to him, stirring a mix of curiosity and apprehension.


    "Who are you? What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice trembling with fear.


    [Host, I am the Omnistore System. The purpose of Omnistore for the host is to achieve ultimate merchant status within the realm of Omnistore. This entails expanding your store''s influence, attaining legendary status, and bing the one who controls the flow of wealth in the world.]


    As the boy listened to the mechanical voice, he detected a hint of emotion in its delivery, making it sound somewhat human. However, confusion still clouded his mind as he sought rification. "So, you mean you want me to be rich?"


    [Yes, the host can say it that way.]


    The boy was now not scared but still confused by the system''s answer and looked around and asked again. "Where am I?"


    [You''re in Omnistore, Host.]


    The confusion on the boy''s face remained, while the mechanical voice seemed to perceive it despite its intangible presence within his mind.


    [This should rify your confusion, Host.]


    As the voice spoke those words, the boy''s brain began to heat up, and a rapid session of images started to y like a montage in his mind. It was as if he was witnessing someone''s life unfold before his eyes, and within those images, the same old shop he had seen the night before made an appearance. The pictures flickered at a staggering rate, too fast for him to fullyprehend or remember under normal circumstances. Yet, each fleeting image seemed to be etched permanently in his mind.


    ''What are these? Are these memories... Whose memories are these?'' the boy pondered silently within his mind, first with confusion and then with a sense of astonishment.


    The images that yed in his mind belonged to someone else, and yet, there was an inexplicable feeling of familiarity, as if these memories somehow belonged to him. However, he had no recollection of performing the actions or recognizing any individuals within those vivid recollections.


    This phenomenon continued for several more minutes, and within that time, the boy gained further insights into the nature of this so-called "system" from the memories ingrained within him. The memories of the teenager held knowledge about a web novel and the concept of a system. It was through these recollections that he also came to a startling realization.


    "I died?" The boy''s voice quivered with shock.