He opened his eyes for a second but felt too tired to stay awake.
"I want to sleep more," he let out a big yawn.
But his mind wouldn't rest, especially with sunlight pouring in.
Reluctantly, he forced himself to get up and started shopping for more things—two new beds, chairs, a clock, and more.
He also bought carpets and nature paintings to make the lobby look better. After all, first impressions mattered.
To get rid of the old stuff, he sold each piece for 1 EC. He didn't care about the money much; it was more like a small bonus for clearing the clutter.
"I wonder what this does," he grabbed the round neon sign that read OPEN.
Dimensional Open Sign: When hung on the front door, the motel randomly teleports to a new world. As a new owner, you can't move far yet, but guests will come to you. You earn EC based on their experience and reviews.
"So, does that mean once I get stronger, I can move farther away from it?"
Luck nodded as he understood how the item worked.
He also felt excited that he would get to visit different worlds. It was the dream of every otaku.
Some people even wished to get hit by Truck-kun just to experience that. But he could do it by just being a caretaker. Suddenly, all his hard work felt worth it.
'No, I can't be careless. If I'm going to a random world, I have to expect the worst case scenario. My system isn't exactly friendly either—it could drop me right into the middle of a demon army or something.'
Next was the silver box. This time, he bought sunglasses to shield himself from the flash when opening it.
The lid opened—nothing happened as expected.
This was within his expectations. If the bronze box already made him suffer, then the silver one was bound to hit even harder.
He shook his head and smiled.
'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me thrice? I'm officially an idiot.'
Knowing the flash would trigger if he pushed the sunglasses down a bit, he came prepared.
He planned to time it carefully—just as the light flared, he would slip on the sunglasses and look away.
"One... Two... Three!"
'Maybe only the bronze box comes with a penalty?' he wondered, still keeping a bit of distance—just in case.
'I should check what's inside,' he muttered, slowly reaching for the box.
Inside, he saw a small medicine bottle.
[Cholesterol Burner 3000: Each pill helps you lose two kilogram of fat.
Warning: The effect is strong, so wait at least one hour between doses.]
His eyes lit up with excitement. Now, he didn't have to worry about exercising to lose weight.
Without wasting time, he popped the bottle open and poured one pill into his palm. It was white and looked like a regular medicine.
Steeling himself, he swallowed the pill and took a sip of water to wash it down.
Ten seconds passed with nothing, until his stomach suddenly rumbled like a thunderstorm.
'Shit, I should have known.' he groaned, sprinting toward the bathroom like his life depended on it.
As soon as his pants hit the floor, all hell broke loose.
It was so loud, he half expected Hollywood to call any minute, asking to use it as the roar of their next big monster movie.
After flushing everything away, it took him a minute to calm down. He even wondered if his bottom was still in one piece.
"That was traumatic... I..." He didn't even want to finish the sentence.
Just thinking about going through that again in an hour made him break out in a cold sweat.
Still, he couldn't deny the effect—he could tell his belly had gotten smaller.
'No pain... no gain,'
Determined, he kept repeating the brutal cycle until he dropped to 78 kg—a healthy weight for someone 6'2".
Losing weight wasn't the only benefit.
Now that he was thinner, he noticed his thinking sped up, and his senses were slowly returning to how they were before the accident.
It was probably because his arteries were no longer clogged with cholesterol, letting blood flow more easily from his heart to his brain.
Plus, losing the double chin made his face look better.
With regular exercise like push-ups and sit-ups, he could get his toned body back in a month or two.
He threw sharp jabs into the air.
Though it had been a while, any trained eye would spot the perfect wrist snap, the quick extension of his arm, and the precise timing in every strike.
Then he kicked up fast—his right leg sliced through the air with a loud whoosh.
'I'm a bit rusty, but a little training will fix that.'
How much he improved just by losing weight was scary.
It showed just how dangerous he was at his peak. No wonder his fists and feet were registered as lethal weapons.
'I will train more before hanging that sign. No rush—the system didn't give me a deadline.'
This would improve his chances of defending himself—just in case his first visitors was a group of goblins.