The transition from non-existence to existence was not marked by a dramatic flash of light or the deafening roar of a heavenly choir.
It was merely a slow, agonizingly gradual shift from cold numbness to the heavy, oppressive weight of sensory perception.
Lin Ye's first conscious thought was that his mattress felt remarkably soft. Too soft.
He was a twenty-seven-year-old corporate drone who had spent the last five years sleeping on a discounted, extra-firm futon that did nothing to alleviate the chronic lower back pain accumulated from hours hunched over a cubicle desk.
This bed, however, felt like a cloud woven from silk and down feathers. It yielded perfectly to his form, cradling him in an unfamiliar, almost stifling warmth.
Then came the smells. Gone was the faint, lingering scent of stale instant noodles and cheap detergent that perpetually haunted his cramped apartment.
In its place was a delicate, floral aroma—something akin to lavender mixed with a hint of vanilla and expensive shampoo.
Where am I? The thought was sluggish, pushing through a thick fog in his mind. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt heavy, encrusted with the remnants of deep sleep.
With a concerted effort, he fluttered them open, immediately wincing as a sharp beam of morning sunlight pierced through the gap in the heavy, cream-colored curtains, striking him directly in the face.
He raised a hand to shield his eyes.
That was when the first true spike of dissonance hit him.
The hand that intercepted the sunlight was not his.
Lin Ye's hands were large, calloused at the palms from years of gripping a cheap steering wheel, with a jagged scar across the left index finger from a childhood accident with a kitchen knife.
The hand currently hovering above his face was small, pale, and impossibly delicate.
The fingers were slender, ending in neatly manicured, unpolished nails.
The skin was flawless, lacking a single blemish or mark of hard labor.
Lin Ye froze. The breath hitched in his throat. He lowered the hand slowly, bringing it directly into his line of sight. He turned it over, examining the smooth palm, then the back of the hand.
He clenched it into a fist. The small, dainty hand obeyed his command perfectly.
Panic, cold and sharp, began to pool in his stomach. He threw off the thick, downy duvet, the sudden rush of cool morning air washing over him. He sat up, and the world tilted precariously.
His center of gravity was wrong. His perspective was wrong. He felt lighter, smaller, his limbs lacking the dense, familiar muscle mass of a grown man.
As he swung his legs over the edge of the bed, a cascade of soft, golden-blonde hair tumbled over his shoulders, spilling down to his waist.
It tickled his collarbones, an entirely alien sensation. He grabbed a handful of the hair, pulling it slightly. The slight sting at his scalp confirmed that it was real, attached to his own head.
"What... what is this?"
The voice that escaped his lips sent a violently cold shiver down his spine.
It was not the deep, slightly raspy baritone of Lin Ye. It was a soft, melodic, and undeniably feminine voice.
It carried a natural lilt, sweet and youthful, trembling slightly with an underlying current of terror.
He needed a mirror. Now.
Lin Ye stumbled to his feet, his balance failing him for a brief second before he managed to right himself. The room around him was spacious and meticulously clean, decorated in soft pastels and light wood tones.
It looked like the bedroom of a wealthy high school student. He ignored it, his eyes locking onto a closed door that he instinctively knew led to an en-suite bathroom.
He crossed the room in three hurried steps, his bare feet sinking into a plush rug. He gripped the brass handle of the bathroom door, pushing it open.
The bathroom was awash in the harsh, unforgiving light of a fluorescent bulb above the sink.
Lin Ye stepped in front of the vanity, gripped the edges of the cool porcelain sink with white-knuckled intensity, and finally forced himself to look up.
Staring back at him was a girl.
She looked to be about seventeen years old. Her face was heart-shaped, with high, aristocratic cheekbones and a soft, delicate jawline.
Her skin was porcelain-pale, completely free of the acne or blemishes that usually plagued teenagers.But the most striking features were her eyes—large, expressive, and a mesmerizing shade of sapphire blue, currently wide with unabashed horror.
Her nose was small and straight, and her lips were naturally rosy and full.It was a beautiful face. An undeniably stunning face. But it was not his face.
"Who... are you?" the reflection mouthed the words as Lin Ye spoke them, the sweet voice echoing off the tiled walls.
As if the question was a key turning in a lock, a sudden, agonizing pressure bloomed behind his eyes. Lin Ye gasped, clutching his head as a flood of foreign information forced its way into his consciousness.
It wasn't a violent tearing of his mind, but rather a rapid, overwhelming download of memories, emotions, and knowledge that did not belong to him.
Airis Dover. That was the name. She was seventeen years old. She was of mixed heritage, her father a wealthy expatriate businessman and her mother a local artist.
She attended the prestigious Sakura Crest High School. She liked sweet pastries, playing the piano, and reading historical fiction.
She disliked loud noises, bitter coffee, and the suffocating pressure her father placed on her academic performance.
And as of last night, she had fallen asleep with a high fever, her fragile body finally giving in to exhaustion.
The memories settled, merging with Lin Ye's own twenty-seven years of life. He remembered the grueling overtime, the lonely apartment, the sheer monotony of adult life.
He remembered walking home late at night, the sudden screech of tires, the blinding headlights, and then... nothing.
Until he woke up in this bed, in this body.
Lin Ye—now Airis Dover—stared blankly at the mirror. He was dead. Lin Ye, the twenty-seven-year-old salaryman, had died in a traffic accident.
And through some incomprehensible twist of fate, his soul had migrated, taking up residence in the body of a seventeen-year-old girl named Airis Dover.
She took a deep, shuddering breath, splashing cold water from the tap onto her face.
The shock was profound, but the years of corporate grinding had instilled in him—her—a bizarre sense of pragmatism. Panicking would not solve this. Screaming would only alert whoever else lived in this large, quiet house.
She dried her face with a soft towel, leaning heavily against the wall. "Okay," she whispered, testing the cadence of her new voice. "I am... Airis. I am seventeen."
Suddenly, a crisp, mechanical chime echoed directly in the center of her mind, sharp enough to make her flinch.
[Ding!] [Host's soul resonance has stabilized. The Power Sign-In System is now binding.] [Binding... 10%... 50%... 100%. Binding complete.]
A translucent, light-blue screen materialized in the air roughly two feet in front of her face. It hovered silently, unaffected by gravity or the lighting in the bathroom.
Airis waved a hand through it, her fingers passing effortlessly through the projected text, though the image remained undisturbed.
[Welcome, Host. The Power Sign-In System is at your service.]
"A system?" Airis muttered, her sapphire eyes narrowing. In her previous life, during the rare moments she wasn't working, she had read her fair share of web novels.
Systems were usually omnipotent, demanding, and often carried a penalty of death if tasks weren't completed.
"What are your rules?" she asked cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper. "What do I have to do? Kill monsters? Conquer the world? What's the penalty for failure?"
The blue screen shifted, the text dissolving and reforming rapidly.
**[Answering Host: This System has no obligatory tasks, no death penalties, and no malicious hidden agendas. The primary function of this System is to facilitate a comfortable, empowered life for the Host.
Core Rules:
The Host may 'Sign-In' to the System interface once per week.
Weekly sign-ins will yield guaranteed rewards, ranging from physical enhancements, financial stipends, passive skills, to rare artifacts.
The sign-in pool resets every Monday at 00:00.
The System may occasionally issue 'Optional Tasks' based on the Host's environment. Completing these tasks will upgrade the quality of the next weekly sign-in reward. Ignoring them carries absolutely no penalty.
The Host is free to live their life as they see fit.]** Airis stared at the screen, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of her lips for the first time since waking up. "No penalties? Pure daily life?"
This was not a cursed existence. This was a vacation. A permanent, paid vacation in a younger, healthier body.
[Would the Host like to perform their first Weekly Sign-In?] "Yes," Airis said immediately.
The screen glowed brighter, a small roulette wheel appearing and spinning so fast it became a blur of colors. It slowed down after a few seconds, landing on a golden icon shaped like a glowing drop of water.
[Ding! First Sign-In Successful!] [Reward Acquired: 'Perfected Cellular Vitality' (Passive Skill).
Description: The Host's body has been optimized to its absolute peak condition for its current age and physical constraints.
Immune system maximized, stamina greatly increased, fatigue recovery accelerated by 500%, and all minor lingering ailments (such as the previous owner's fever) have been instantly cured.
Side effect: Skin clarity and physical grace have been subtly permanently enhanced.]
A warm, comfortable current of energy suddenly surged from Airis's chest, spreading rapidly through her veins to the very tips of her fingers and toes.
The residual sluggishness from her sleep and the lingering ache of the fever that had supposedly killed the original Airis vanished entirely.
She felt incredibly light, as if gravity had relinquished its hold on her. She took a deep breath, her lungs expanding smoothly, her mind achieving a level of crystalline clarity she hadn't felt since she was a child.
She looked back at the mirror. The pale, slightly sickly pallor she had noticed earlier was gone, replaced by a vibrant, healthy glow. Her blue eyes sparkled with an undeniable life force.
"Incredible," she murmured, clenching and unclenching her fists. The raw power wasn't superhuman—she couldn't punch through a brick wall—but she felt perfectly, flawlessly healthy.
For a man who had suffered from chronic back pain and eye strain for years, this alone was a divine gift.
Dismissing the system interface with a thought, Airis walked out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom.
Now that the immediate panic had subsided, she needed to orient herself. She walked over to the sleek, modern desk by the window and picked up the smartphone lying next to a stack of textbooks.
It was an older model. Not a brick, but certainly lacking the edge-to-edge screens she was accustomed to. She pressed the home button.
The lock screen illuminated, displaying a picture of a golden retriever and, more importantly, the date and time.
Monday, April 4th, 2016. 7:15 AM. Airis froze, the phone slipping slightly in her grip.
It wasn't just a rebirth into a different body. It was a regression. She had been thrown exactly ten years into the past.
A profound, staggering realization hit her with the force of a freight train. If it was 2016... then he was alive.
Lin Ye, the seventeen-year-old high school student who was awkward, poor, and struggling to pass his math exams, was currently alive, breathing, and likely waking up in a cramped, drafty apartment on the other side of this very city.
She walked over to the window, pulling back the heavy cream curtains.The city of Riverdale sprawled out below her, bathed in the soft, golden light of the early morning.
From the vantage point of this affluent neighborhood in the hills, she could see the distant, hazy skyline of the downtown district, and beyond that, the industrial sectors where the "old" Lin Ye lived.
"I'm seventeen again," she whispered to the glass, her breath fogging the pane. "I want to play, I want to cultivate a good life, but... I've become a girl. And I'm living in the same world as my past self."
It was a bizarre paradox. She was entirely disconnected from her old life, yet physically closer to it than ever before.
She turned away from the window and approached the large mahogany wardrobe. Opening it, she was confronted with a dizzying array of dresses, skirts, blouses, and perfectly ironed school uniforms.
The Sakura Crest uniform consisted of a navy blue pleated skirt, a crisp white blouse, and a crimson ribbon tie.
Airis stared at the clothes for a long time. The twenty-seven-year-old man inside her balked at the idea of putting on a pleated skirt.
But the memories of the seventeen-year-old girl told her that this was simply what she wore on a Monday.
"Slow pace," she reminded herself, taking a deep breath. "Admit the situation, adapt, and don't look back. If something is wrong, admit it in time and never repent."
It took her ten minutes of awkward fumbling to figure out the clasp of the skirt and precisely how the crimson ribbon was supposed to be tied.
When she finally looked in the full-length mirror attached to the wardrobe door, she had to admit, the uniform looked
exceptionally good on her.
The 'Perfected Cellular Vitality' reward had smoothed out her posture, giving her an air of effortless elegance.
She grabbed her school bag—a stylish, expensive-looking leather tote—stuffed her phone inside, and headed downstairs.
The house was quiet.
According to her inherited memories, her father was currently away on business in Europe, and her mother was likely asleep in her studio after pulling an all-nighter painting.
The only other person in the house was the housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, who had left a plate of warm toast and scrambled eggs on the kitchen island along with a note telling Airis to have a good day at school.
Airis ate the breakfast slowly, savoring the taste of actual, freshly cooked food. Everything tasted sharper, richer.
Stepping out the front door, the crisp April air hit her face. The neighborhood was quiet, lined with manicured lawns and towering oak trees. She began the fifteen-minute walk to the nearest private bus stop that serviced her high school.
As she walked, she passed by a large, imposing local bank branch at the corner of the affluent street. The exterior wall was constructed entirely of dark, polished marble.
Airis stopped. She reached out, pressing her small, delicate hand against the wall.
The material was marble, and the surface had been cut and polished quite smoothly. She could feel the lustrous hardness and the biting coldness radiating through her palm.
The surface was so pristine that it almost reflected her shadow perfectly.
She stood there for a moment, letting the cold reality of the stone ground her. This wasn't a dream. This wasn't a hallucination brought on by overwork.
The stone was real. The cool breeze ruffling her blonde hair was real. The faint scent of her own lavender shampoo was real.
She looked at her faint reflection in the dark marble. The beautiful girl with sapphire eyes looked back.
"Hello, Airis Dover," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper against the morning wind.
She pulled her hand away from the cold stone.
She didn't know what the future held. She didn't know if she would ever cross paths with the awkward, seventeen-year-old Lin Ye, or if she would simply watch him from afar, an invisible guardian angel armed with a weekly cheat system.
But one thing was certain. She had been given a second chance. A chance to live without the crushing weight of poverty and corporate exploitation. A chance to experience a youth she had squandered the first time around.
With a small, serene smile playing on her lips, Airis adjusted the strap of her leather tote and continued walking down the street, stepping confidently into the sunlit path of her new, purely daily life.