The next morning, I woke up with a sense of purpose despite the weight of uncertainty pressing on me. I got ready for university, the routine offering a momentary semblance of normalcy. As I walked, I checked my phone. Of the twenty matches in my combined bet, I had already won six. Fourteen more to go.

Reaching the university, I made my way to class. The familiar corridors and bustling students seemed distant, as if I were moving through a dream. I took my seat, and moments later, the teacher entered with a somber expression. I already knew what was coming. The teacher was going to announce Mark's death.

Having experienced this moment several times in the simulation, I felt next to nothing. My mind was already elsewhere, planning my next steps.

The day passed in a blur. Between lectures and conversations with classmates, my thoughts were consumed by a single question: What do I actually want? Was survival my only goal? Or was there something more?

"Let's survive first," I muttered to myself, the decision bringing a strange sense of clarity. Survival was the immediate priority, and everything else would follow.

To survive, I needed more information. The key lay in discovering Gouda's real identity. That meant another simulation, another painful download of memories and information. But it was a necessary sacrifice.

Determined, I found a quiet corner in the university library and opened my journal. I mapped out my plan for the day, focusing on gathering as much intel as possible.

First, I purchased another simulation, directing it towards learning about Gouda before the warehouse attack. The transaction was swift, the cost another thousand euros disappearing from my bank account. I took a deep breath and initiated the simulation.

Day 1 to 5 passed as usual.

On Day 6, the day of the attack, I went to the warehouse knowing full well what was going to happen. The text on the panel described the unfolding events with clinical precision, each line reinforcing the inevitable. I followed the script, my actions aligning perfectly with the simulation's predictions.

As expected, the attack happened. The chaos erupted around me, and I found myself moving instinctively, diving towards Gouda. Her bodyguard was killed, and in the ensuing pandemonium, Gouda herself was fatally wounded.

In that crucial moment, I seized the opportunity. With a swift motion, I removed the mask from Gouda's face. I only needed one second to memorize her features. The reward guaranteed perfect memory of everything that happened in the simulation, and I absorbed every detail of her face, knowing it would be invaluable later.

The attack continued, and just as in the previous simulation, I found myself facing the inevitable. As the final moments played out, I felt the searing pain once more, a white-hot agony that wracked my entire being. The real me was screaming in agony, the intensity of the pain almost unbearable.

It turned out that I had already accepted the reward and absorbed the memory. The vivid recollection of Gouda's face, the chaos of the attack, and the overwhelming pain were all imprinted in our mind, a perfect record of the simulation's events.

Now that I knew what Gouda looked like, my next simulation would be about actually finding her. I opened my phone to check my bank account: two thousand euros. That meant I could afford two more simulations, and then I'd have to wait a few more hours before the final match to get my money.

Determined to use my resources wisely, I initiated the next simulation.

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Day 1: I searched on Google for some private detectives, looking for someone who was in it for the money, someone who was hungry for it. After some time, I found the one: a 40ish detective named Frank Dalton. Divorced, with two kids, he lived in his apartment, which also served as his office. "Good," I muttered to myself, and then set off to meet him.

When I arrived at his office, I was wearing a sanitary mask to obscure my face. Frank's office was cluttered, with files and papers scattered everywhere. He looked up from his desk as I entered.

"Can I help you?" he asked, eyeing me curiously.

"I need to find someone," I replied, my voice muffled by the mask. "And I need it done quickly."

Frank leaned back in his chair, scrutinizing me. "That's what I'm here for. What's the job?"

I handed him a sketch of Gouda's face that I had drawn from memory. "Her. I need to know everything about her."

Frank examined the sketch, his brow furrowing. "This isn't a police sketch. Who is she to you?"

I sighed, knowing I had to give him enough to go on but not too much to make him suspicious. "None of you business."

Frank's eyes narrowed slightly, a mix of curiosity and skepticism. "And what’s in it for me?"

I pulled out a checkbook and a pen. "I'll make this simple," I said, writing out a check. "I'll give you a down payment of 10,000 euros. If you can find her and get me every piece of information about her, I'll give you another 50,000 euros. You have four days. The total will be 60,000 euros."

Frank’s eyes widened at the amount. His initial suspicion melted into a mixture of excitement and amazement. "That's a lot of money. Why so much for this one person?"

"Because it's worth it to me," I replied, tearing off the check and handing it to him. "Can you do it?"

Frank took the check, his fingers trembling slightly. He was clearly intrigued and, more importantly, motivated. "You've got yourself a deal. But you better not be pulling my leg. If this bounces..."

"It won't," I assured him. "Just find her."

--------

Three days passed with no word from Frank. My anxiety grew with each passing hour, a gnawing presence in the back of my mind that I couldn’t shake. Every time my phone buzzed, my heart would leap, only to be disappointed by mundane notifications or spam messages. I found myself pacing around my apartment, unable to focus on anything else. Each tick of the clock seemed louder than usual, mocking my impatience.

I replayed our conversation in my head countless times, analyzing every word and detail. Had I been too vague? Had I given him enough to go on? My mind spiraled into worst-case scenarios. What if Frank had taken the money and run? What if he had found out something dangerous and decided it wasn't worth the risk? The stakes were too high for failure, and the thought of starting over with a new detective was daunting.

On the fourth day, my phone rang. It was Frank!!

"I've got something," he said, his voice crackling through the speaker. "Meet me at my office."

I hurried over, my heart pounding with anticipation. When I arrived, Frank handed me a thick envelope. "Everything you need is in here," he said.

I opened the envelope and began sifting through the documents. My eyes widened as I read through the details. Frank had found her, and he had uncovered a wealth of information. It seemed I had struck gold.

As I flipped through the pages, one name stood out: Isabella Green.

There were photos of Isabella at different events, notes on her known associates, and even a rundown of her suspected hideouts. Frank had done his homework, and it showed.

"How did you find all this?" I asked, still flipping through the pages.

Frank leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "I've got my ways. When the price is right, people talk."

I nodded, absorbing the information. Isabella Green was more than just a name now. She was a real person with a real history, and that made her both more dangerous and more vulnerable. If I could find her before the next attack, maybe I could change things.

"Alright," I said, closing the envelope and standing up. "You've done good work, Frank. I'll make sure you're paid the rest once this is all over."

Frank gave me a knowing look. "Just be careful. She's not someone to take lightly, it was a pain int he ass tracking her"

"I know," I replied, the weight of his words sinking in.

Back at my apartment, I spread the documents out on the table and began to formulate a plan. Now that I knew what Gouda looked like and had a wealth of information about her, my next simulation had to be about finding her and understanding her motives. The clock was ticking, and I needed to act fast.

First, I purchased another simulation, directing it towards learning about Gouda before the warehouse attack. The transaction was swift, the cost another thousand euros disappearing from my bank account. I took a deep breath and initiated the simulation.