Tony Snow downloaded a business information app on his phone and typed in "Ethan Walker" to see what came up.
The search results were overwhelming—over eighty entries with the same name. With that much noise, Tony cleared the search bar and instead searched for Tianlan Biotech Ltd., which finally produced something useful.
According to the app, the company had four shareholders. The largest share belonged to Marcus Shepherd—the "Mr. Shepherd" Tony had met just the day before. He was also listed as the company's legal representative, confirming that Tianlan Biotech was a legitimate, registered firm.
The second largest shareholder was a person named Morgan Hart. No gender listed.
The third was Ethan Walker.
The fourth shareholder had a completely unfamiliar name, so Tony didn't spend any time on it. He turned his attention back to Ethan. Interestingly, Ethan Walker wasn't listed among the company's executives.
Out of curiosity, Tony clicked on Ethan's name. The page loaded a limited set of public info, but most of the detailed data was locked behind a paywall. Since this was just casual investigation prompted by Mr. Shepherd's offhand comment, Tony wasn't going to spend money on it.
Closing the company info app, Tony opened his phone's app store and downloaded a job search platform.
Thanks to the dorm's fast internet, the installation was done in under a minute. He opened the app and searched for Tianlan Biotech Ltd. again.
The listing showed that the company was hiring—mostly lab technician roles for recent grads with degrees in biology or bioengineering. The pay wasn't impressive.
Out of curiosity, Tony searched more broadly for entry-level roles in the bioengineering field.
That's when reality hit.
Most biology or bioengineering grads entered the workforce as low-level lab techs—working in microbiology, molecular biology, or cell testing. These jobs were often referred to as "research labor" due to their repetitive nature and long hours.
It aligned with what Tony had seen in his first two simulated lives—long days, low pay, late nights. Most positions paid just over a few hundred credits a month. For reference, many of these companies would even hire junior college grads for those same roles.
Overtime was the norm—ten-hour days weren't uncommon—and going home before midnight was considered lucky. Even with extra pay, the total compensation barely moved the needle.
And for those who, like the "pre-simulator" version of Tony, had a messy schedule and poor habits? That lifestyle was a recipe for burnout—or worse.
Even for students with master's degrees, starting salaries weren't significantly higher. Only Ph.D. graduates had a real shot at six-figure annual salaries in tier-one cities or Federation-sanctioned research zones.
This was the kind of information that Tony had never gathered from the simulator alone. It required deliberate research—something he hadn't done in his past lives. He'd chosen rewards that gave him technical knowledge, but never an overall view of the industry.
By the time Tony finally put his phone down, it was past midnight.
He hadn't stayed up this late in months—not since getting the life simulator.
The next day—Monday.
Tony had a full morning of lectures, with two more classes after lunch. Once the day's classes were over, he and Clara Quinn headed to the library together, as usual.
Tony opened his laptop and went straight to the official website of Inventiones Mathematicae, the prestigious international mathematics journal where he had submitted his research paper.
He logged into his account.
[Decision in Progress]
Tony blinked.
This status meant the peer review was complete, and the editor was now making a final decision.
If no revisions were requested, the status would soon change to [Accepted]—meaning the journal had officially accepted his paper. From there, it would move into the publication queue and be indexed in major databases.
What surprised Tony wasn't just the progress—it was the speed. He had submitted the paper less than a month ago. Typically, peer review could take months, especially for top-tier journals.
Submitting had involved several steps: creating an author account on the journal website, entering contact details, uploading the manuscript, and waiting through statuses like Submitted to Journal, Received by Editorial Office, Under Review, and so on.
Decision in Progress meant reviewers had submitted their feedback and now it was in the editor's hands. If feedback required revisions, the next step would be Revise and Resubmit. But if no revisions were needed?
It would go straight to Accepted.
Tony had expected at least some minor changes. After checking the status, he closed the laptop. With the time difference between here and the journal's editorial office, he figured he might get an update late at night—probably while he was asleep.
That night, back at the dormitory.
Tony was winding down for the day, preparing to sleep, when his phone buzzed.
A new email.
He opened it—and stared.
It was an acceptance notification from Inventiones Mathematicae.
No major revisions. No minor corrections. Accepted on first submission.
He froze for a second, processing what just happened.
Then, shaking off the shock, he climbed out of bed and reopened his laptop. He had to double-check.
"Whoa, what are you doing?" Ryan Liu looked over, puzzled. "You're booting up your laptop now? What's the occasion—gonna sneak in a game before bed?"
Since the start of the academic year, Tony had barely touched his laptop at night. Library all day, sleep all night. This was unusual.
Tony ignored the question and quickly logged back into the Inventiones Mathematicae author portal.
Ryan peeked over. "Inventiones... Math... Inventing Mathematics? Mathematical Inventions? What is this, some weird startup?"
He squinted at the screen, utterly lost.
"Wait—why's it all in English? What's this site even for? Anyone know what 'Inventiones Mathematicae' is?" Ryan looked around the room.
While he fumbled for answers, Tony stared at the screen.
[Status: Completed — Accepted]
A second notification appeared on his phone—this time from the Life Simulator.
[Task Completed.]
Tony closed his laptop, sat down slowly, and looked at the screen for a long moment—expression unreadable.
He had just completed one of the simulator's most difficult goals.
And in doing so, he'd also earned something much bigger: proof that he could compete with the best minds in the world.