In the early morning, a ray of sunlight slipped through a gap in the curtains, illuminating a young boy's sleeping face. Albert wasn't awake yet, but he was about to be.
The door to the room nearest the stairs on the second floor creaked open. A brown-haired girl poked her head in, her big brown eyes fixing on the boy still fast asleep in the bed. "Albert," she whispered, "time to get up."
When the boy didn't respond, the girl pouted, pushed the door open fully, and walked in. A British Shorthair cat followed at her heels.
"Tom, if you please," the girl said, lifting the cat onto the bed. She gently took its tail and brushed it across the boy's face.
Still half-asleep, Albert swatted the tail away. He opened his eyes to see his mischievous little sister, covered a large yawn, and mumbled a greeting. "Morning, Nia."
"Dad said he's taking us to London today," Nia said, blinking. "To get your Eton College uniform fitted and buy the other things on the list."
"Right, got it. I'll get dressed." Albert muffled another yawn. He picked up the cat, which was busy stretching its claws on the bedsheets, and set it on the floor. He stretched, got dressed, and headed downstairs to the living room for breakfast.
"Up late again?" Daisy asked, placing a full plate of breakfast in front of him.
"We'd best get a move on, son. We have a full schedule today," said Herb. He spread a letter that had arrived a few days prior—the one from Eton College—out on the table, his face beaming with pride.
Everyone in Britain knows that private schools are where the elite are cultivated, and Eton College was the best of the best. Getting into Eton required two things: talent and money.
The Anderson family was comfortably middle-class. The parents, Herb and Daisy, ran their own law firm and had a decent amount of savings.
And as for Albert, he was, in everyone's eyes, a genius. His grades were outstanding, and he had won several inter-school academic competitions.
But whether he was really a genius, only Albert himself knew.
A genius? No. Albert never considered himself one. He was just a guy with a big secret: he was a transmigrator.
He was honestly baffled as to how he'd earned the title in the first place.
A child, who theoretically shouldn't even know what a Rubik's Cube was, managed to easily solve a scrambled 3x3. To most adults, that was genius.
In truth, he could only solve it because he'd played with them in his past life. He already knew the algorithms.
And as for maintaining that genius image? Albert wasn't worried. He had the legendary "Golden Finger"—a cheat code.
'Transmigrators always get a system,' he thought. 'The web novels didn't lie!'
It all started when he was seven. He discovered a panel—a 'System'—had suddenly appeared in his mind.
The System had two main functions: accepting quests and allocating skill points.
It would randomly generate quests. Completing them awarded either EXP, which could be used to level up skills, or Skill Points, which could level a skill instantly.
His first skill was "English Proficiency." It took him years to get it to Level 3. If a native speaker was Level 2, then Level 3 was a professional linguist or English teacher.
If he maxed out his science-related skills, he could become a world-class scientist. Of course, Albert had no desire to be a scientist. He didn't in his past life, either.
In his previous life, he loved to read and eventually became a mediocre web novelist. He'd written a few books, saved up a little money, and lived a carefree life doing what he loved.
In other words, he was a total layabout.
As for how he died and transmigrated? It was embarrassing.
He was on his couch watching a Mr. Bean movie. He grabbed an apple and was eating it while watching. The movie was so funny that he laughed, forgot he was chewing, and choked to death on a piece of apple. He was thirty years old.
When he woke up, he was a baby. He spent several years in a daze in this new home, and eventually got a new cat. He named it Tom, too.
The name, of course, came from the Tom and Jerry cartoons.
Then, at seven, the System panel appeared, making Albert question his reality. For a while, he worried he was just an NPC in someone else's game.
But after years of never encountering a "Player," he accepted the System as his transmigrator's boon.
Transmigration plus a cheat code equals a winning life.
Albert didn't have grand ambitions. His plan was to date a bit, graduate from university, and get a simple, easy job. Ideally, he'd get married before thirty and earn enough wealth to last a hundred years. Then he could live out the rest of his days in carefree freedom.
To achieve this, Albert had a plan. After graduation, he would head to Wall Street in the US. By maxing out his "Economics" skill and leveraging his fragmented memories from his past life, he was confident he could make a fortune quickly.
However, leveling up skills on the panel wasn't easy. Especially after Level 2, each new level required a massive amount of EXP.
Albert needed to complete quests to grind for EXP and skill points. Getting accepted into Eton College had been one of those quests.
"What are you thinking about, son?" Herb asked, cutting into his steak and looking at his dazed boy.
"About what I want to do in the future," Albert replied, popping a fried egg into his mouth. He swallowed before continuing.
"And what is that?" Daisy asked, curious. They rarely heard their son talk about his dreams.
"Finance," Albert said without hesitation.
"We thought you'd want to be a scientist, or perhaps an astronaut," his parents said, glancing at each other.
"What's 'finance'?" Nia asked, unhappy about being left out of the conversation.
"It's how you make a lot of money," Albert said. "Speaking of which, could you buy me some books on economics while we're in London? You can count it as an early birthday present."
"Son, don't mislead your sister. Only the best of the best make real money in that field," Herb said, his face twitching slightly. He coughed into his fist. "Besides, it's not like our family is poor."
"Alright, that's enough talk. Eat your breakfast," Daisy interrupted. "Nia, make sure you finish your milk."
"Oh," Nia muttered. She didn't really like milk.
Life after reincarnation was good. He had a cute little sister, a harmonious family, a comfortable life, and a cheat code to help him reach the pinnacle of success.
If there was just one thing Albert found depressing about his new life, it was, without a doubt, the food in Britain.
In his past life, he'd read online that Britain was a "food desert," but he'd been skeptical.
Now, having experienced it firsthand, he no longer had any doubts. It was true.
After breakfast, they helped clear the table, locked the doors and windows, and the Anderson family prepared to leave.
Albert had just opened the door of the family's Ford, about to slide into the back seat, when he heard Nia cry out in surprise. "Look! An 'owl'!"
Mr. and Mrs. Anderson looked confusedly in the direction she was pointing. An owl was indeed flying right toward them. It swooped over their heads and dropped a letter right at Albert's feet.
For a moment, the entire Anderson family froze.
An owl? Delivering a letter?
Since when did owls start working part-time as postmen?