Oryon asked, “Sorry to ask, but what year is it right now?”
Bulma blinked.
“Age 762. Why?”
“Don’t tell me you’re planning to marry me this very year?”
“Oh, that’s so embarrassing! Actually, now that I think about it, I’m not exactly young anymore. If we got married now, it’d land right in my prime childbearing years…”
Bulma’s face flushed red.
She rubbed her cheeks with both hands, sinking into a daydream so vivid she’d practically already picked out names for the kids.
Age 762!
Oryon did some quick mental math — this was the very year Raditz would show up.
So Bulma had lied.
Nineteen, yeah right — she was clearly twenty-nine this year.
Then something else occurred to him.
At this point in the timeline, shouldn’t Bulma’s boyfriend be Yamcha?
So why was she suddenly gathering the Dragon Balls because she needed one?
Just then, a phone rang inside the house.
“Ring ring, ring ring…”
“Hold on a sec, I’ll grab that,” Bulma said, dashing into the house.
Watching her bounce away, Oryon started weighing his next move.
Even if he didn’t end up as her boyfriend, he could at least avoid starving on the street, right?
Or maybe he could just borrow some money from her.
In his past life, Oryon had grown up in one of those brutal exam provinces, grinding through countless sleepless nights of studying — and in the end, all he’d managed was a spot at a community college.
After graduating, he’d become just another cog in the machine, one drone among a trillion, grinding through the same overtime hell as everyone else.
Now that he’d finally landed this rare shot at transmigration, wasn’t this his chance to actually enjoy life?
Oryon flexed a little.
Yep, as expected — still had the fragile build of a college kid.
Still, with a bit of scheming and a few years’ effort, hitting a power level in the hundreds shouldn’t be too hard.
Or he could just wish for it with the Dragon Balls — that would only take a year.
As for fighting to protect Earth, well, that could be Goku’s job!
He wouldn’t be much help there anyway — better to chase some girls and enjoy life…
Right at that moment, a mechanical, electronic voice rang out in Oryon’s mind.
[Ding. Host’s mindset verified as correct. System activated!]
Oryon’s pupils contracted.
“Holy hell!!! I already transmigrated into the Dragon Ball world, and now I need a damn System too? Don’t tell me it’s going to work me to the bone grinding out quests? I’ve had enough grinding for one lifetime!”
But the next moment, the System’s voice rang out again, and his body began to change along with it.
His heart sank.
[Ding. Host detected as having transmigrated into the Dragon Ball world. Congratulations, Host — you have obtained the Saiyan bloodline.]
In an instant, Oryon’s hair turned sharper and spikier, his already handsome face gained just the right touch of rugged masculinity, and a furry tail sprouted out behind him.
“So it’s handing me a Saiyan bloodline for training and growing stronger — meaning I’m supposed to grind myself half to death getting powerful every single day?”
“I really don’t want this…”
But the very next second, the System spoke again.
[Life itself carries no inherent meaning. If one must assign life a meaning, let it be this: live happily. Being born human, one should reject the rat race, labor in moderation, and rest plenty. Being born human, one should roam free between heaven and earth and savor freedom. Being born human, why suffer loneliness alone? Humans are social creatures — to live is to mingle with the opposite sex and reap pleasure.]
[Ding. Congratulations, Host — you have obtained the Trait: Familiarity Breeds Affection.]
[Trait Function: close interaction with the opposite sex, so long as it produces emotional value and pleasure, grants varying amounts of cultivation time.]
[Ding. Congratulations, Host — you have gained an additional ten days’ worth of cultivation progress.]
[Wishing the Host great success in the Dragon Ball world. The System takes its leave.]
The electronic voice vanished completely.
For a moment, Oryon felt every muscle in his body swell and ache; once the sensation faded, his strength had increased somewhat.
Oryon froze for a couple of seconds, then broke into a grin.
“Scared the hell out of me! Here I thought some System had popped up just to hand me a Saiyan bloodline and work me like a draft animal, training myself to death every single day… But then again, this is the Dragon Ball world — what would I even need a System for? Is there anything the Dragon Balls can’t do? And a System that can awaken here, of all places, in the Dragon Ball world — surely it wouldn’t be some useless burden…”
Oryon looked toward the house where Bulma had disappeared, already scheming.
Bulma was great, sure, but given her personality, dating her would mean settling for just one ladle drawn from an ocean of possibility — far too conservative for his taste.
What he wanted was the whole ocean.
Oryon had never been some innocent virgin boy, either.
In his past life, blessed with good looks from birth, his romantic history had been rich indeed.
Never mind what happened before high school — just in college alone, he’d had his fair share of both sultry upperclasswomen and youthful underclasswomen.
Still, he’d never liked sneaking around.
Whatever he did, he preferred doing it out in the open, so there’d be no energy wasted on guilt or drama.
So even when he played the cad, he did it openly and honestly, always insisting both sides go in willingly.
In the end, even after breakups, plenty of his exes still spoke well of him, and there was always someone hoping to get back together.
Handsome, in great shape, strong, good at making money…
a guy like that was never going to settle for just one woman.
But for now, Bulma had already claimed Oryon as her boyfriend.
Oryon knew that his real personality was, for now, nothing but a fantasy in her head — and while there was still time, he ought to shatter that unrealistic illusion of hers.
Better that than have her resent him for being unfaithful once they were together, and stir up trouble over it.
Oryon reviewed the trait’s exact wording: contact with the opposite sex only granted cultivation progress if it produced genuine pleasure.
In other words, a melon forced off the vine was never sweet — it still had to be mutual and willing.
That fit Oryon’s personal creed perfectly.
Oryon walked toward the house.