In the early morning, a ray of sunshine slipped through a gap in the curtains and fell across the face of a sleeping boy. Albert was still fast asleep, though not for long.
The door to the second-floor bedroom, near the stairs, was quietly pushed open. A brown-haired girl peeked inside, her large brown eyes resting on the boy lying in bed. She softly called, "Albert, it's time to get up."
Seeing no response, she pouted, pushed open the door, and stepped into the room, a British Shorthair cat following at her heels.
"Tom, help me out," she said as she scooped up the cat and placed him on the bed. Gently holding his tail, she swept it across Albert's face a couple of times.
Still half-asleep, Albert instinctively brushed the tail away. He opened his eyes, saw his mischievous younger sister, stifled a yawn, and said, "Good morning, Nia."
"Dad said he's taking us to London today," Nia announced, blinking. "To get your Eton College uniform custom-made and buy the items on the list."
"Alright, I know. I'll change." Albert yawned again, picked up the cat who was stretching his claws into the bedsheet, set him on the floor, stretched, and began getting dressed. After washing up, he headed downstairs for breakfast.
"Were you up late again last night?" Daisy asked as she set a warm breakfast in front of him.
"Son, we'd better hurry. Today's schedule is a bit full," Herb added, spreading out the letter from Eton College on the table. His face glowed with pride.
Private schools in Britain are known for nurturing the elite, and Eton College stands above them all. To enter this school, one must possess two things: talent and wealth.
The Anderson family was a middle-class household in Britain. Herb and Daisy ran a law firm together, and over the years, they had saved a considerable amount.
Albert, in everyone's eyes, was a genius. His grades were outstanding, and he had participated in many inter-school competitions, winning awards.
But whether he was truly a genius—only he knew.
A genius?
No, Albert never thought of himself that way. He had a secret no one else knew: he was a transmigrator.
As for why others called him a genius, he didn't quite understand either.
A child who had never seen a Rubik's Cube before could solve a scrambled 3×3 cube with ease? To most adults, that was what a genius looked like.
In truth, Albert could solve it because he had played with it in his previous life and already knew the trick.
Maintaining the image of a genius didn't worry him at all—because he had a legendary golden finger.
Transmigrators come with golden fingers; online novels really didn't lie.
It all began when Albert was seven years old and discovered a floating panel in his mind.
The panel had two main functions: accepting quests and allocating skill points.
Occasionally, quests would appear. Completing them awarded experience or skill points. Experience was used to level up skills, while skill points increased a skill by one level instantly.
His first skill was English Mastery. It had taken him years to raise it to Level 3.
If the average Briton's English was Level 2, then a typical English teacher would be Level 3.
Albert had even thought—if he maxed out enough scientific skills, he could become a world-class scientist.
But he had no interest in that. In his previous life, he hadn't wanted to be a scientist either.
Back then, he enjoyed reading and eventually became an online novelist. He wrote a few books, earned some savings, lived freely, and did what he loved every day.
In other words—he was a happy slacker.
And how did he die?
Well… it was embarrassing.
One day, he was lying on the sofa watching a Mr. Bean movie, munching on an apple. The movie was so funny he forgot he was still chewing… and choked to death at the age of thirty.
When he opened his eyes again, he was a baby. He grew up hazily in this new world and even got another cat—also named Tom.
Of course, the name came from the cartoon Tom and Jerry.
At seven, when the panel appeared, Albert even wondered if he was an NPC in a game. But since he never found any "players," he treated the panel as a bonus that came with transmigration.
Transmigration plus golden finger—life's winning combo.
Albert had no lofty ambitions. His ideal future was simple: a few relationships after adulthood, an easy job after university, marriage before thirty, and enough money to live comfortably for a hundred years.
To achieve that, he already had a plan: after graduation, he would enter Wall Street in the United States. With maxed-out economic skills and memories from his past life, he believed he could earn a fortune.
But leveling skills wasn't easy. After Level 2, every level required a huge amount of experience.
To earn experience and skill points, he had to complete quests—and being accepted into Eton College was one of them.
"Son, what are you thinking about?" Herb asked, cutting his steak and looking at his daydreaming son.
"I'm thinking about what I want to do in the future," Albert said after swallowing a bite of fried egg.
"So? What do you want to do?" Daisy asked curiously. They rarely heard him talk about his dreams.
"Finance," Albert replied without hesitation.
"We thought you'd want to be a scientist or an astronaut," the Andersons said in surprise.
"Finance makes good money," Albert said. "And while we're at it, please buy me a few books on economics. Consider it an early birthday present."
"Don't mislead your sister," Herb said, rubbing his forehead. "Only capable people make money in that field. And it's not like we're poor."
"Alright, eat your breakfast and stop chatting," Daisy said. "Nia, drink your milk."
"Oh…" Nia groaned. She didn't like milk.
Reincarnated life was wonderful: a loving sister, a harmonious family, financial comfort, and a golden finger that could lead him to success.
If there was one thing Albert disliked—it was British food.
He had read online that Britain was a "culinary desert." He used to think it was exaggerated. But after living here, he knew it was absolutely true.
After finishing breakfast, they cleaned up, locked the house, and prepared to leave together.
Albert had just opened the door of their Ford and was about to get in when Nia suddenly exclaimed, "Look—is that an owl?"
The Andersons turned to where she was pointing and saw an owl flying towards them. As it passed overhead, it dropped a letter at Albert's feet.
For a moment, the entire Anderson family froze.
An owl… delivering a letter?
Since when did owls start working as postmen?