Mike woke to a splitting headache.
It felt as though someone were hammering a blunt instrument against his temples, each heartbeat intensifying the throbbing pain.
He forced his heavy eyelids open, his vision slowly focusing on a low ceiling.
The springs of the mattress beneath him groaned as he shifted.
The air was thick with a cloying mixture of scents: the damp smell of mildew seeping from the walls, the sour stench of overnight alcohol, and beneath it all, a faint, sweet trace of perfume.
The scent triggered a momentary daze as fragments of the original body’s memories surfaced: deafening music, flashing lights, a wild graduation party celebration, a blonde girl named Sarah Miller, a night of heated passion, and the unspoken “it ends at graduation” understanding they both shared.
“What the…
hell?”
“No…
I’ve transmigrated…”
He pushed his aching body up, rubbing his forehead as if to keep it from exploding, and staggered toward the vanity mirror.
The mirror reflected a young, mixed-race face.
He had black hair, deep brown eyes, and facial contours slightly more defined than a typical East Asian’s.
He was handsome—second only to the readers themselves.
However, his eyes were currently a mess of hungover confusion, gradually giving way to shock and bewilderment.
Memories of his past life rushed in like a tide.
He had been an IT engineer recently promoted to project lead.
After leading his team through several days of grueling overtime, the sharp pang of a heart attack was his final memory of that world.
Now, he was Mike Lee, a Chinese-American orphan who had grown up bouncing between foster homes in Brooklyn.
He had just graduated from the New York Police Academy.
Today was his first day reporting for duty at the 78th Precinct in Brooklyn.
He didn’t have much time to process his new reality; the digital clock on the nightstand showed it was already 8:00 AM.
He took a deep breath of the stale air, forcing himself to calm down.
He walked to the simple wardrobe and opened it.
Inside hung a solitary, crisp, and brand-new NYPD navy blue patrol uniform.
He donned the uniform piece by piece.
The friction of the fabric against his skin felt foreign, but as he buckled the heavy leather duty belt, a strange sense of both responsibility and restraint surged in his heart.
He looked at his reflection, now transformed into an image of “stern justice”…
what a bright-eyed, righteous youth!
[Ding!]
Suddenly, a crisp, synthesized metallic chime echoed in his mind.
[Detected high-compatibility soul fluctuations…
System forced binding in progress…]
[Core protocol verification passed…
Plot Task System loaded…]
Mike’s hands froze on his buttons, his pupils contracting sharply.
[Tutorial task initiated.
Plot task generating.]
Lines of translucent, ethereal blue text projected themselves into the center of his vision.
So…
not only did I transmigrate, but I also brought a Golden Finger system with me?
Mike grinned, a spark of excitement rising within him.
Transmigration really does come with perks!
No wonder everyone wants to do it!
However, the text that appeared next quickly wiped the smile from his face…
[Plot Task: Transaction Under the Night Sky]
[Plot Summary: Tonight, a low-level drug deal will take place near your residence.
Both parties are social outcasts with no complex backgrounds.
Threat assessment: Low.]
[Hint: Location—the abandoned backyard of “Quick Auto Repair” at the intersection of Maple Street and 7th Avenue; Time—estimated tonight at 23:50; Items—approximately $6,000 in cash and a small quantity of low-purity contraband; Participants—two low-level thugs with minor criminal records.]
[Task Requirements: Intervene covertly.
Use non-lethal means to subdue both parties and seize all cash and contraband.
The cash must be pocketed; the contraband must be turned in after the System Shop opens.
(Note: Ensure there are no third-party witnesses during the operation, including any potential remote surveillance.)]
[Task Reward: 100 Points, System Shop access unlocked.]
[Failure Penalty: None.]
[Task Countdown: 14:59:58]
Robbery?
Embezzlement?
Mike’s mouth hung open, his hand tightening on his belt.
This system task was asking him to rob the robbers!
In the mirror, the face in the police uniform transitioned from confusion and shock to a cold, calculated calm.
So what if it’s robbing the robbers?
The people of New York need me to strike down the forces of evil!
Cracking down on crime starts with me!
Leaving his apartment, Mike drove his predecessor’s secondhand Japanese car to the precinct.
The Brooklyn 78th Precinct building was a rather weathered concrete structure.
Its exterior walls were stained by years of wind and rain, giving it a heavy, oppressive atmosphere.
As he walked through the main doors, a complex scent hit him—a blend of coffee, sweat, and a faint hint of disinfectant that formed the unique aroma of the station.
The lobby was buzzing with activity.
Uniformed officers were already busy, the air filled with the sounds of ringing phones and radio static.
Having already completed a brief induction ceremony previously, Mike followed his memories and the signs toward the reporting station.
There were seven or eight people in line, all wearing new uniforms and chatting quietly.
In the middle of the line, Mike spotted a familiar figure from the previous night: Sarah Miller.
She was also in a brand-new uniform.
The navy blue fabric perfectly traced the curves of her figure, and her blonde hair was neatly tied back in a bun, a far cry from the wild, sexy girl he remembered from the party.
She was speaking softly to a female officer in front of her, the corners of her eyes crinkling with a smile.
At that moment, Sarah seemed to sense something.
She turned her head and froze for a heartbeat when she saw Mike.
A flash of awkwardness crossed her beautiful blue eyes.
Then, she simply gave a small, polite nod, her lips curving into a faint, professional smile.
Mike returned the gesture with a reserved smile of his own.
They had only found out yesterday that they had been assigned to the same precinct.
But now, both tacitly agreed not to greet each other properly, keeping to their agreement to part on good terms.
Mike was assigned to patrol, while Sarah, who apparently had an aunt in the department’s upper management, was assigned directly to a desk job—an administrative position envied by many of the women.
When it was Mike’s turn, the administrative officer handed him a stack of forms.
“Fill these out, then head to the equipment desk on the third floor.”
He found a table, and since there were no empty chairs, he bent over to fill out the forms.
Name, age, address, badge number…
most of the information was well-known to the original owner of the body.
After finishing, he followed the signs to the third floor.
The equipment desk was behind a thick pane of bulletproof glass.
The officer behind it looked bored to death.
He glanced at Mike’s forms through the glass and skillfully pushed a tray through the slot.
“Glock 19, check the serial number.
Two spare magazines, handcuffs, baton, radio, pepper spray, first-aid kit.
Sign for them here.”
The officer pointed to the electronic signature pad, his voice monotone.
“Remember the first rule, rookie: the gun stays with you, and so does the badge.
Lose either and you’re in deep shit.”
Mike took the gear.
Unlike other rookies who might be flustered or overly excited, he practiced the muscle memory of his body.
He skillfully ejected the magazine of the Glock, pulled the slide back to ensure the chamber was empty, and engaged the safety.
His movements were fluid and disciplined.
He strapped on the heavy duty belt piece by piece, adjusting it until it felt comfortable and accessible.
Time to get to work.