Spy-New Fic!
Same author as the Robin and Cipher Fic!
“Ugh~”
With a slightly pained groan, a young girl slumped over a desk slowly sat up.
She furrowed her brow, rubbed her temples, and then opened her eyes, dazedly surveying her surroundings.
On the wooden desk—slightly cracked and appearing very old, yet meticulously cleaned—lay a book filled with neat and beautiful handwriting.
It seemed to be a notebook.
A ray of sunlight streamed through the window, illuminating the desk.
It appeared to be early morning.
The faint soreness in her body suggested she had fallen asleep while reading and writing, remaining slumped over the desk all night.
“But…
that’s not right, is it?”
Her voice, slightly hoarse from lack of water, rasped as she clutched her head and muttered to herself, “I seem to remember…
being taken out by a truck?”
It wasn’t some heroic act like saving a little girl in the middle of the road.
She had simply been walking while engrossed in her phone, accidentally straying into the street, and a passing truck had conveniently taken her away.
The last image in her memory was a massive truck hurtling toward her.
Truly, walking while staring at your phone is a terrible habit.
After this brief recollection, she refocused her attention on her surroundings.
Without a doubt, this place was neither a hospital nor her home.
Besides, she felt she had been run over by a truck—the chances of survival were slim.
This meant…
had she transmigrated?
Transmigration wasn’t an unfamiliar concept for a modern person who frequently read web novels.
A new world, a new identity, a fresh start.
Plus, in her previous life, she seemed to have no close family…
She lowered her head and looked at her smooth, delicate, almost boneless hands.
This body was undeniably that of a young girl, and likely not very old.
The problem was, she realized she had forgotten her own name from her past life—she couldn’t even remember if she had been male or female.
Just then, a sharp pain shot through her head.
She instinctively clutched her head with both hands, curling up in her chair and letting out a soft moan.
After a while, the pain slowly subsided, and fragments of memories belonging to “Freya Russell”—the owner of this body—began to surface in her mind.
The current date was July 10th, Year 1151 of the New Calendar.
The girl—or rather, she should now be called Freya—was only seventeen years old and a high-achieving student at Khovd National Academy.
The original owner of this body had been an orphan with no relatives.
She survived entirely on part-time jobs and the school’s scholarship for top students.
This lifestyle placed immense pressure on her; after finishing her odd jobs each day, she would return to her rented room and stay up late studying to maintain her grades.
Under the dual strain of physical and mental exhaustion, compounded by poor nutrition, the original Freya had suddenly lost consciousness while reading the day before.
When she awoke, it was the transmigrator—the current Freya—who had taken her place.
This was undoubtedly death by overwork, Freya sighed.
Regardless, she had already transmigrated.
The reality was set, and for now, she could only do her best to survive in the original owner’s place.
However, while she had inherited the original Freya’s memories, inheriting them didn’t mean she had mastered them.
The original owner’s academic performance was exceptional, consistently ranking in the top three of her year at Khovd National Academy.
The current Freya, however, was highly unlikely to achieve the same.
It was like taking an exam.
The original owner could effortlessly score a perfect 100.
But even though the current Freya could freely access those memories—essentially giving her an open-book test—achieving a perfect score would still be incredibly difficult.
“Machine Dynamics, Chemical Formulas, A Brief History of the Nation…
what the heck is all this?” Freya sighed again.
In her past life, she seemed to have graduated a while ago and had long forgotten everything she’d learned in school.
Besides, the subjects taught in this world were completely different from those in her previous one.
Wait…
She suddenly noticed something strange.
She couldn’t even remember her own name from her past life, yet her memory of general knowledge from that world remained crystal clear.
She had initially thought the shock of transmigration had scrambled her brain and caused amnesia, but now it seemed that might not be the case.
Just as Freya was pondering this, a soft chime echoed in her mind.
A translucent virtual panel materialized before her:
[Ding~]
[Future Simulation System loading complete.]
“Of course,” Freya’s attention was immediately captivated.
“How could a transmigration story not come with a System?” She began to study the panel before her:
[Current Save Slots: 00 (Freya Russell), 01 (Empty)]
[Start Future Simulation]
[Time until next Death Crisis: 3 days]
Freya: “?”
Honestly, her first thought upon discovering she had a System was whether there was a “Newbie Gift Pack” or something similar—anything that could help her get some money.
According to the original owner’s memories, she had less than 3,000 Ducats left.
This was the currency of this world, with a purchasing power roughly equivalent to the currency from her past life.
With tuition, rent, and food expenses, it was no exaggeration to say that 3,000 Ducats wouldn’t even last her a month.
Her most urgent priority was to make money.
But this System didn’t seem to have any features for that.
There was no interactive System Spirit, no Newbie Gift Pack—just a terrifyingly minimalist interface.
And that last line…
Time until next Death Crisis: 3 days.
If that warning was real, she probably didn’t need to worry about running out of living expenses in a month.
After all, she was going to be dead in three days anyway.
If it were anyone else, learning they might only have three days to live would probably fill them with fear, worry, or anxiety.
But Freya felt none of that.
Instead, she was incredibly calm.
Was it because she had just died once already?
After studying the System for a while, she began to understand what this thing could do.
The so-called “Future Simulation” was the System’s primary function.
Activating it would place her in a special simulated state where she could continue to live normally, doing whatever she wanted, for up to thirty days.
The simulation would end if she reached the time limit, died during the simulation, or chose to exit manually.
Afterward, she could save the simulated version of herself into a “Save Slot.” In the real world, when needed, she could summon this saved self as a clone.
Honestly, the function sounded impressive, but it also seemed kind of useless.
Was she supposed to work out diligently for a month, save that version, and then summon a slightly stronger clone of herself?
No, wait.
There’s another use: predicting the future.
She could figure out what this so-called “death crisis” was and avoid it.
As she pondered this, Freya focused her thoughts on the words “Start Future Simulation.” Another prompt popped up:
[Please select a Save Slot]
Just like choosing a character in an RPG, two slots—”00″ and “01”—appeared before her.
But she had no real choice, as “01” was empty.
When Freya looked at “00,” a 3D avatar materialized.
It depicted a girl with shoulder-length black hair, wearing a black hoodie and gray pants.
The clothes were visibly patched and mended, with the cuffs faded from repeated washing.
“Is this me?” Freya murmured.
This was the first time she had truly seen herself since being transmigrated.
The outfit was utterly plain, yet it couldn’t hide the girl’s natural beauty.
Her azure eyes were crystal clear and pure, like the surface of a serene, undisturbed sea.
Her nose was delicate and smooth, and her small, cherry-pink lips looked so soft and supple they seemed almost edible.
In the real world, Freya couldn’t help but lick her own lips at the sight.
Her features were exquisite and gentle.
Just looking at her gave the impression of a kind-hearted girl—the type who probably wouldn’t fight back if bullied and would likely cry for a long time if punched.
Perhaps because she had just woken up, her hair had several stray strands sticking up.
But instead of making her look disheveled, this only added a touch of lazy charm, making her appear even cuter.
However, as the view panned down from her delicate and adorable face, her figure seemed rather average.
Her chest was somewhat “unremarkable”—at least on the 3D model in the System interface, there was barely a hint of a curve.
In the real world, Freya pressed her hands against her own chest.
Hmm, there’s definitely something there.
At least a B-cup.
Maybe this outfit is just too loose?
No, wait.
She shook her head sharply.
Is this really the time to be worrying about such details?
On the System page, Freya selected the only save slot, “00.” The next moment, it felt as if someone had grabbed her head and shoved it underwater.
When she came to her senses, only a single line of small text remained before her eyes:
[Simulation in progress…]
Freya gasped for air, then glanced around.
“This is it?
It’s already started?”
Her vision, hearing, smell, and the surrounding scenery were all unchanged.
If not for that strange sensation of being submerged, she would have doubted whether she had truly entered the simulation at all.
With a thought, another prompt appeared before her:
[Exit Simulation?]
She naturally chose “No.”
Alright, she reasoned, everything I see now is ‘fake,’ a simulation.
Nothing I do will affect reality.
And in three days, I’ll face a life-threatening crisis.
So, what’s the most important thing to do right now?
Obviously, I need to arm myself!
Buy weapons!
It’s worth noting the state of this world.
According to the original owner’s memories, its technological level was roughly equivalent to the First Industrial Revolution in Freya’s previous life.
Just a few days ago, the original owner had even heard a classmate mention that the first steam train in some region had just made its inaugural run.
As for weapons, pistols, rifles, machine guns, and even cannons already existed, with technology comparable to World War I in Freya’s past life.
If she could get her hands on one of these, her chances of survival three days from now would increase significantly, no matter what crisis awaited.
The problem was, where could an underage girl like her possibly acquire firearms?
Freya pondered for a moment, and a place actually came to mind.
The country she was in, the Tarapaca Kingdom, was considered one of the more powerful nations in this world.
However, the backdrop of the Industrial Revolution meant the country was far from stable.
Gangs, unemployed workers, vagrants, and destitute families were everywhere.
The original owner’s living conditions were already miserable, but she was far from the worst off in this nation.
Consequently, the country’s public safety was poor.
It was relatively safe during the day, but if Freya went out at night, her appearance and physique would make it incredibly dangerous.
Given these circumstances, enforcing a gun ban was naturally impossible.
The original owner happened to know about a black market in a remote part of the city, rumored to sell anything and everything.
Perhaps she could try her luck there.
As for how the original owner knew this, it was something a classmate had revealed during a casual chat, almost like discussing an urban legend.
It was quite normal for girls to talk about such things, right?
With the location settled, the next problem was funding.
Freya’s entire savings amounted to only 3,000 Ducats, which was definitely not enough.
So, how could she get money quickly?
Many people’s first thought might be to rob a bank, but as an underage girl, that was completely out of the question.
The fastest way to get cash was actually to take out a high-interest loan.
After all, she wouldn’t have to pay it back.
Once the simulation ended, the debt would simply vanish.
Wasn’t that just free money?
Deciding to act immediately, Freya took a sip of water to moisten her dry throat, then changed her shoes and headed out.
She didn’t even need to search deliberately.
Moments after leaving her home, she spotted two “Blondies” with their arms slung over each other’s shoulders, swaggering down the street.
Due to her financial situation, the original owner couldn’t afford to live in a nice neighborhood.
More remote areas like this were naturally crawling with such “punks.” These two were underlings of a local crime boss.
However, this group didn’t collect protection money.
Their main business was loan sharking.
The original owner had been approached several times about taking out a loan but had always refused.
After all, anyone with a normal IQ knew it was a one-way ticket to ruin, let alone a top student like her.
Now, Freya lowered her head and deliberately walked toward the two Blondies.