DING!

[System Notification]

You have been inactive for 1,600 days.

A Global Superstar cannot remain silent.

Engagement Level: Critically Low.

If the user doesn't make waves soon, the System will automatically terminate.

Dayo looked surprised. He never thought the system would say that. From the start, he never really understood how it existed; he just accepted it since it had helped him once. Now that he was finally building something stable, it was asking for "engagement."

His mind started spinning. What could he possibly do?

He remembered the simple definition of a superstar — someone dazzlingly skilled in any field. "Any field," he thought. It didn't have to be music. Maybe he could do something else that drew attention. But what?

He had planned his comeback for the end of the year, yet it seemed the silence wasn't good for the system.

Just then, he heard a familiar voice.

"Good morning, boss," Sharon said, looking down because Dayo was shirtless.

"Ah, Sharon, morning. You're quite early today," Dayo replied, picking up a shirt and pulling it on.

"Hehe, boss, you have an early appointment for the NGO — the swimming competition to raise funds for underprivileged kids," she said, glancing up once he finished dressing.

"Ah, yes. Speaking of kids, how's Zara? It's been a while since I saw her."

Sharon smiled warmly. "She's doing fine. She asks about you all the time — the uncle who bought her toys." Sharon gave a genuine smile, happy she chose to work here, not all bosses are as attentive as Dayo to their staff.

Dayo laughed softly. "Alright, tell her I'll visit again one of these days. For now, let's head to the event."

"Okay, sir."

---

When they reached the venue for the swimming competition, Dayo was quickly surrounded by kids. He smiled as he handed out small candies and chocolate bars. The little act brought wide grins to their faces.

The event was hosted by a recently retired Olympic champion who had contacted Dayo to help raise funds, and of course, Dayo had agreed, which was how he found himself here now.

The children were grouped by age and were competing among themselves. There would also be a friendly celebrity race to raise awareness and funds for clean-water projects and children's welfare.

While all this was happening, Dayo's mind still wandered, thinking about what he could do to make a real comeback.

Someone tapped his shoulder. Turning, Dayo smiled. "Ah, George! Sorry, I didn't notice you came in."

George, the retired Olympic champion, chuckled and shook his hand. "Dayo, it's fine. You looked lost in thought. All good?"

"Yeah, just thinking a bit," Dayo said, waving it off.

"Okay, I wanted to tell you the adult heat is about to start. You're not joining?"

"Uh, nah. I'll pass. It's been a while since I swam."

"Eh, nope — it's not me asking," George said slyly. "It's the kids."

Dayo sighed. "Hehe, nice try, George. I'll pass."

"Ha! Okay, I asked nicely," George said, walking away with a grin.

Dayo smirked but kept thinking. A few minutes later, small hands grabbed both of his palms. Then more hands followed — tiny fingers clutching his arms.

"Brother Dayo, come and swim!"

"Yes! Brother George said his the best!"

"Yes, he said if you won, he would buy us big presents for Christmas."

"Please win for us!"

"Please"

"Pretty, Please."

Dayo froze for a second, caught off guard. Before he knew it, the children had dragged him toward the starting line of the pool. The lane next to him already had swimmers stretching and laughing.

He looked left and saw George smiling like a man who had just won a bet.

Dayo sighed and muttered, "Fine, fine."

With a reluctant motion, he took off his top — and the crowd gasped. The sound rolled across the pool stands like a wave. Cameras clicked. People whispered. His toned muscles and defined abs were hard to ignore.

Embarrassed, Dayo quickly pulled on a tight-fitting swim shirt, but it didn't hide much.

George tapped his shoulder. "Wow, who knew you were this fit?"

Dayo smirked. "Hehe, I know — you wish it were you."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," George replied, laughing.

The referee called everyone together and explained the rules. It was a standard 50-meter freestyle race — first to reach the end wins. There were eight swimmers: some celebrities, some NGO representatives, a few retired athletes, and now Dayo.

He stood at the edge of the pool, breathing deeply. He hadn't competed since his Navy training days, but the smell of chlorine and the sight of calm blue water felt nostalgic. He stretched his arms once, then crouched slightly, ready.

"On your mark," the ref said.

Dayo closed his eyes briefly.

"Set!"

He exhaled slowly.

"Go!"

Everyone dove instantly, water splashing everywhere — except him. Dayo hesitated for half a heartbeat, still lost in thought. Then he blinked, refocused, and jumped in.

The moment his body hit the water, something shifted. It felt natural — too natural. The cool rush surrounded him, muffling the world above. His mind went quiet. There was no noise, no pressure, just movement.

He stretched his arms forward, legs kicking rhythmically, strokes smooth and powerful. He didn't think about winning. He didn't think about speed. He just swam — feeling the water glide past, every motion measured, every pull steady.

Stroke.

Breathe.

Stroke.

Breathe.

The crowd's noise faded. Time didn't matter. All he felt was the rhythm, the resistance, and the peace that came with it.

When his hand finally hit the wall, he stayed there, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. For a second, he didn't even check if he'd won.

The world above was still a blur until he heard faint cheering and saw flashes from cameras. He turned his head slightly — to his left, only one person had reached the wall — George.

George's expression wasn't normal. It wasn't smug or teasing. It was shock — pure disbelief.

Dayo blinked, confused. "What?" he muttered under his breath, wiping water from his eyes.

George was still staring, almost speechless.

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