Clara Quinn had grown up in a place most maps barely acknowledged.
Her hometown was a remote mountain village tucked deep in one of the poorest counties in the country. Her father passed away when she was just a child, and her mother disappeared not long after—likely overwhelmed by grief and poverty. From then on, it was Clara, her grandfather, and her grandmother, trying to survive on whatever they could.
When she reached high school, her grandfather passed away too, leaving just the two of them—Clara and her aging grandmother.
But Clara had something that refused to die: ambition.
Her grades in high school were among the best in the entire county. She earned national-level student aid and full tuition exemptions. Her acceptance to a top university came with a scholarship—and even a personal gift from her high school principal: a cheap smartphone so she could stay connected in college.
Almost every scholarship Clara earned in college, she sent home. She kept only enough to eat simple meals, while the rest went to her grandmother.
Back in her hometown, the money Clara sent made a world of difference. For the first time, her grandmother didn't have to ration food or rely on the generosity of neighbors.
On their first day back at school after winter break, Tony and Clara didn't go to the library right away. Instead, they walked together down a quiet path on campus they had never taken before, sharing stories from the past few weeks.
Tony listened intently as Clara began speaking more openly than ever before.
Getting home for Clara wasn't easy. Plane tickets were out of the question, and even high-speed rail was too expensive. Instead, she always took the slow train—sometimes standing for thirty hours straight if she couldn't get a seat. After arriving in the provincial city, she'd still have to transfer to a rural bus that took her deep into the mountains.
Tony had always known Clara didn't come from money, but hearing it all spelled out like this shook him.
Compared to her, I've been so lucky, he thought. If I didn't have the life simulator, what would our lives even look like?
He already knew the answer.
If he hadn't used the simulator, his first simulated life would've been reality—wasting time, playing games, coasting through college without direction. He might never have spoken a single word to Clara until graduation.
Then he would've graduated, taken a low-paying job with long hours, and probably burned out quickly, maybe even died young—just like in the simulation.
Clara, on the other hand, would've powered through. With her intelligence and discipline, she would've crushed the postgraduate exams, found work in the city, and brought her grandmother to live with her. Eventually, she'd find someone—maybe a colleague—to marry.
But what kind of person would that be? How would they treat her? Would they respect everything she'd sacrificed?
Tony didn't like the thoughts that followed.
But now everything was different.
He had the simulator. He had the knowledge—and the awareness. And now, he had something else too: Clara's trust.
Because if Clara was willing to open up like this, to share parts of her past she had never shared with anyone, that said something powerful.
She trusted him.
When Clara finished her story, Tony finally shared his own—his childhood loneliness, his parents working away from home, his mischievous antics, the trouble he got into in middle school, how high school changed him, and how his relationship with his parents evolved over time.
Finally, after walking in silence for a while, he stopped and turned to her.
"Do you know why I changed so much last semester?" Tony asked.
Clara looked at him curiously, unsure where he was going.
Just as she opened her mouth to respond, Tony answered himself.
"Because of you."
Clara blinked. "Because of me?"
Tony nodded. "Yeah. Be my girlfriend."
The words hung in the air.
Clara froze, caught off guard. "But…"
"I know. You told me you wanted to wait until after your postgraduate exams," Tony interrupted gently. "That's okay. Just say yes now—we don't have to do anything until then."
Clara looked stunned. "Can it… can it work like that?"
"Of course it can," Tony said, smiling. "You say yes now. We keep things the same. You focus on your exams. And once they're over, we start dating."
Clara looked down at her feet. Her fingers nervously tugged at the hem of her coat. Her expression was a mix of anxiety, doubt, and—something else. Hope, maybe?
"…Okay," she whispered. "But you have to keep your promise."
Tony's heart nearly exploded. He grinned ear to ear.
"I promise."
He resisted the urge to hug her right then and there.
They kept walking in silence, side by side, their steps perfectly in sync. When they passed by the cafeteria, it was just about dinner time, so they ate together. No drama. No big emotions. Just quiet companionship.
Later that evening, they parted ways to return to their respective dorms, agreeing to meet at the library afterward.
When Clara arrived and saw Tony bringing his laptop instead of a stack of textbooks, she raised an eyebrow.
"Laptop? What, you watching movies now?"
Tony chuckled. "Nope. I'm writing a paper."
"A paper? Graduation thesis?" Clara asked. "But we haven't even confirmed our thesis advisors yet."
"It's not for bio. It's a computer science paper," Tony replied casually.
Clara stopped walking. "Computer science?"
"Yep."
"You didn't even take any computer electives. Have you lost your mind already? I just said yes to being your girlfriend and now you're going off the rails?"
Tony grinned. "Don't flatter yourself. I wasn't that happy."
The truth was, this decision hadn't come out of nowhere.
After hearing about Clara's past—her hardship, her grit, her willingness to put others before herself—Tony felt something shift inside him.
He'd originally planned to wait for the results of his first academic paper before starting a second one. But now? He couldn't wait. He wanted to build something meaningful, something that might actually change things—for himself, for Clara, for people like her.
And that meant writing another paper.
Something big.
Something new.
And this time, it wouldn't be theoretical.