"What's wrong?" Clara Quinn asked, noticing that Tony Snow was still busy typing messages after class, his fingers flying across the screen even as they queued up at the cafeteria.
"It's nothing. Just something from WIST," Tony replied casually, referring to the Westbridge Institute of Science and Technology, which Clara already knew about.
"Is it about the special research position or the grad school placement?"
Tony sighed. "The grad school thing. It's resolved now. Let's just eat," he said, placing his tray on the table.
Seeing Tony didn't want to elaborate, Clara didn't press. But she quietly observed him. He looked distant—physically present but mentally somewhere else.
This whole incident with Professor Whitmore had served as a wake-up call for Tony. Lately, things had gone too well—too smoothly. With access to advanced knowledge through the Life Simulator, Tony had become overconfident. He'd started thinking everything would naturally fall into place.
It wasn't a disastrous mistake, but it was a warning.
He needed to stay grounded.
He summoned the simulator panel in his mind and re-read the summaries of his eight simulated lives, this time with fresh eyes.
In Simulation 2, Tony had ascended quickly in his career. The success got to his head. He had an affair, got involved in office politics, and was eventually stabbed in a fit of jealousy. Dead at 29.
In Simulation 3, he died in a car crash while driving drunk after a breakup.
Simulations 4 and 5 ended with the same illness. A reminder that even a genius body couldn't outrun biology forever.
In the 6th, he died peacefully of old age.
But it was Simulation 7 that stuck with him. That one had taken him to the top: triple PhDs from Harvard at age 24, a global scientific reputation, invitations from every major research institute.
Then came the ominous sentence in the log:
"Many people began to appear around you. Your life became comfortable."
Tony had overlooked that line before, but not now. They weren't friends or colleagues—they were likely intelligence operatives. Spies.
And Tony, in that timeline, had tried to play the game: accept the hospitality, give away nothing. But that strategy failed. Eventually, when he wanted out, they didn't let him leave.
He died abroad, in a foreign alleyway, alone.
In Simulation 8, he stayed in his home country. But even then, they had killed him. Why?
He narrowed it to two possibilities.
One: his work in artificial intelligence and bio-research became too advanced, too threatening to global powers.
Two: he had exposed a high-profile foreign scientist's controversial experimentation, derailing a project that a powerful nation had been funding secretly. They had held that grudge, and they made sure it cost him.
Tony finished rereading all eight simulations and came to a quiet conclusion:
In both the second and seventh lives, his downfall was tied to one thing—hubris.
"Thank God I caught it early this time," Tony thought. "I need to stay sharp, not smug."
"What are you doing, just stirring an empty plate?" Clara's voice pulled him back to the present.
Tony looked down—his plate was indeed empty, but he'd been absentmindedly pushing a piece of rice around with his fork.
"Oh. I was just thinking," he muttered.
"You've been out of it all day," Clara said. "You're usually calm and methodical. But today, it's like you're not even here."
Tony looked up. Clara's eyes were full of concern.
"I'm your girlfriend. You don't have to carry everything yourself. If something's bothering you, talk to me, okay?"
The sincerity in her voice struck him. In that moment, all the guilt from his simulated mistakes—infidelities, betrayals, arrogance—crashed into him like a wave.
He hadn't actually done those things in this life. But the memories were clear, and the shame was real.
He wiped at his face. "It's really nothing serious," Tony said, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. "If anything serious ever happens, you'll be the first to know."
Clara didn't press further, but she didn't look convinced either.
Tony glanced at her again and changed the subject. "Let's go out for the May Day holiday."
Clara blinked. "You want to go out?"
"Yeah. We've been dating a while and haven't done anything together besides class and the library. You've always said no to weekend plans because of studying, but we've got a three-day weekend. Let's go out for just one day, okay?"
Clara hesitated. "If we go out, we'll have to take public transport, eat out… I don't really want you paying for everything again."
Tony grinned. "Come on. Just one day. Pick the destination if you want—I'll handle the rest."
After a few more minutes of coaxing, Clara finally smiled and agreed.
Tony was right. It was time.
May 1st arrived, and the two set out early.
They visited the Old Temple District, strolled along the Riverside Market, and spent the afternoon at the Founders' National Memorial.
They took silly photos, shared street snacks, and browsed secondhand bookstores. By nightfall, they were exhausted and happy.
They returned to campus around 9 p.m., and though Tony was tired, he still completed his daily workout before bed.
May 2nd and 3rd were back to routine.
Tony didn't invite Clara out again—he had tutoring sessions scheduled.
His student, Lin Sharp, was just a month away from her university entrance exam. Tony had been tutoring her for six months, and this was the home stretch.
With only six sessions left, both student and tutor felt the pressure.
This exam wouldn't just determine Lin's future—it would also test Tony's effectiveness as a teacher.
The weekend sessions went smoothly. Afterward, Tony headed straight to Central Station, boarded the high-speed train, and returned to his hometown.
He had promised his former homeroom teacher, Mr. Whitman, that he'd give a motivational talk to the current graduating class. It was something he took seriously.
He had pre-booked roundtrip tickets and planned to return to campus the same day.
To avoid delays, he took the subway to the train terminal. After a two-hour ride, he arrived in his hometown's nearest city.
Unfortunately, the local buses had already stopped running. The only option was a private taxi.
Tony paid over $300 for the ride back to his rural county—steep, but he didn't hesitate. Money wasn't an issue now.
He was going home, even if just for a day.
Let me know when you're ready for Chapter 64, and I'll continue the Westernized transformation.