October 1st, Astor City, Westbridge University
Although it was already mid-autumn, the weather still hadn't cooled down.
Fortunately, it was past ten in the evening, and the dormitory's air conditioning was running, making it bearable inside.
Tony Snow, who had been a university student for over two years and had long since evolved into a Master of Laziness, had just finished showering and was about to lie on his bed to scroll through his phone.
"The Life Simulator is binding..."
Just as Tony was climbing into bed, a strange voice echoed in his ear.
Since it was a long weekend for Founders' Day, most students had already left campus. Tony was the only one left in his dorm room. Hearing a sudden, unfamiliar voice made his scalp tingle.
He instantly thought someone might've snuck in while he was showering. Heart racing, he checked every corner of the dorm, even peeking behind his roommates' bed curtains.
But nothing. No one.
"Weird. Maybe I've finally lost it after all those late nights reading web novels and gaming nonstop?" Tony muttered, settling back into bed.
Just as he was trying to convince himself it was his imagination, a glowing panel suddenly appeared before his eyes.
Tony waved his hand in front of it. His fingers couldn't block the screen. Even closing his eyes didn't make it disappear.
Recalling the mysterious voice, Tony—an "experienced" reader of countless online stories—immediately suspected this might be the moment: a system had chosen him.
Sure enough, the panel displayed a short description and user guide.
It was a Life Simulator system. As long as Tony paid the required amount, it could simulate his future life. After each simulation, he could select one of three outcomes to retain: knowledge, experience, or skills from that simulated life.
Realizing what had just happened, Tony was beyond thrilled. Never in his wildest dreams did he think something out of a fantasy novel would happen to him—a certified slacker.
Without hesitation, Tony activated the simulator for the first time. The system offered one free simulation as a beginner's bonus.
He mentally commanded, "Start Simulation," and the panel flickered to life.
[Age 21 – You wished for a Godly Rich System. Nothing happened.]
[Age 23 – After much struggle, you barely earned your degree. You graduated.]
[Age 24 – Single. Working an office job.]
[Age 25 – Still single. Still working.]
[Age 28 – You died suddenly at 1:00 AM, from a mix of overwork, late nights, poor diet, and stress.]
Tony had initially been excited to see his future—but after reading that bland, depressing timeline, his heart sank. A boring post-grad life, a desk job, and dying at 28 from sheer burnout?
Even more disturbing: he didn't seem to have the simulator in that future timeline. If he had, how could he have stayed so miserable?
The panel changed again:
[Simulation Complete. Choose one to retain:]
1. Knowledge from age 28
2. Experience from age 28
3. Skills from age 28
"No contest. I'll take experience," Tony said without hesitation.
Knowledge might be limited, but experience meant he'd know how the next seven years would unfold.
But things didn't go quite as expected.
Tony did receive his future experiences—but not as memories. Instead, it was more like reading a vague, overly summarized autobiography. The system only provided rough descriptions of major life events.
Most of what he read wasn't even helpful.
"MegaCorp and Hypernet still dominate the market... Not useful."
"An office colleague had an affair. Their partner showed up and trashed the place... Why do I care?"
"Your high school crush got married... So what?"
Tony groaned. "This is useless garbage! What a rip-off!"
In truth, the system deliberately avoided giving Tony full memories. If it had, the clashing mental timelines could've caused a personality fracture. But Tony didn't realize that.
He tried to simulate again, but the panel now required payment.
[Use Life Simulator? One simulation = 100 credits.]
Seeing it was just a hundred, Tony quickly topped up and hit "Yes."
[Age 21 – You start taking your studies seriously and aim for grad school. You fix your sleep schedule.]
[Age 22 – You fail the entrance exam, graduate anyway, and get a low-paying job.]
[Age 24 – Your parents push you into a series of failed blind dates.]
[Age 25 – You switch jobs and earn slightly more.]
[Age 26 – You're pressured into marriage. You go through with it.]
[Age 27 – Your spouse becomes pregnant. You're promoted and your salary improves.]
[Age 30 – Monthly income exceeds $10,000. You die during a botched romantic scandal, stabbed during a "Makoto Itou" moment.]
Tony stared at the screen, stunned. He had lived longer, sure. But that ending?
Stabbed to death?
The panel prompted again:
[Simulation Complete. Choose one to retain:]
1. Knowledge from age 30
2. Experience from age 30
3. Skills from age 30
Having been burned by "experience," Tony now hesitated between knowledge and skills.
"Knowledge probably means academic stuff, like math or history. But what about Excel proficiency—is that knowledge or skill? What about origami?"
He asked the system, but got no reply. With no better option, he chose knowledge.
Instantly, a cool sensation surged into his mind. A calming wave washed over him, like a head massage from inside his skull.
"Ah… So that's what knowledge means," Tony muttered, eyes widening as insights and information from his simulated thirty-year-old self began to crystallize in his brain.