Chapter 15
The person leading Solomon toward the office walked ahead in a heavy silence.
As they moved through the halls, Solomon began to notice children playing nearby. The building was filled with the sounds of their voices and laughter, but the actual surroundings were far from ideal. The play area looked unkempt and grimy—hardly a suitable place for kids. It felt as if no one in charge truly took the facility's upkeep seriously.
Solomon frowned, observing the neglected state of the orphanage with a raised brow. Still, he kept his thoughts to himself and followed the man.
Eventually, they stopped in front of a heavy door. The guide opened it, and they stepped inside. There, seated behind a cluttered desk, was a man in a dark suit and a matching hat, a lit cigar resting between his lips.
Solomon stared at him. This must be the boss—the owner of the orphanage, he thought.
The man carried himself with an air of self-importance, but Solomon could tell he was a member of the D-Class. If he belonged to a higher class, he certainly wouldn't be managing an orphanage in a slum like this; he would have chosen a more privileged district to do his charity work.
The man removed the cigar from his mouth and stubbed it out in an ashtray. He had sharp, dark eyebrows and a narrow, angular face—neither particularly handsome nor unpleasant to look at. He gave Solomon a slow, deliberate once-over, scrutinizing him to determine if this boy could actually be an
"investor."
Finally, the man muttered, "Are you the investor who wants to put money into my orphanage?"
Solomon returned his gaze steadily, gave a sharp nod, and replied, "Yes. I'm the one."
A brief silence followed. The atmosphere grew still as the man studied Solomon carefully—and Solomon, in turn, studied him.
"What's your purpose for wanting to invest here?" the man asked bluntly. "And exactly how much are you planning to give? You don't look like someone who can afford three meals a day, let alone an investment. Do you have any idea how much money I already have? Or how much this orphanage makes me?"
Solomon stared back in silence. He didn't offer a single word of defense.
The man grew irritated by the lack of reaction. "You're very calm for someone being insulted," he snapped. "I thought you'd at least react. Anyway, state your deal. What do you want? Why are you here?"
Solomon finally spoke, his voice cool and detached. "I'm here to change your life. To help the kids in this orphanage—and to help you, too. But look at how you've welcomed me. No seat offered. You've kept me standing this entire time. Do you have any idea how much you might lose because of a little disrespect?"
He didn't say it with warmth or charm. He spoke with a natural, cold arrogance—like a spoiled heir raised in a powerful family who was used to being obeyed.
The man paused, reassessing Solomon's posture and presence. In that moment, he began to wonder if Solomon might actually be a rich heir in disguise—someone from a high-class background who had dressed down for his own reasons. His mind raced:
What would a person from the high-class zones be doing in a D-Class slum?
Solomon had no idea the man was now viewing him as a walking mountain of gold.
The man's expression flipped instantly. He forced a sudden, polite smile. "My apologies for the cold reception. Please, take a seat, young man. Let's talk business," he said, gesturing to the assistant who had brought Solomon in.
The assistant quickly offered a chair.
Solomon stood before it for a moment, adjusted his coat twice with deliberate slow movements, and finally sat down, crossing his legs.
"I'm here to invest seven figures into this orphanage," Solomon stated. "I want to see real improvement. I want the children here to live well."
He continued talking—rambling. Throwing out grand statements that even he knew were half-baked. But he delivered them with such absolute confidence that the man listened attentively, never once interrupting.
When Solomon finished, the smile on the man's face was so wide he could barely contain it. "Young man," he said, "I'm truly grateful. It's rare to meet people with such a vision. We are more than happy to accept your investment."
He reached out and shook Solomon's hand enthusiastically, pumping it repeatedly.
Solomon allowed a faint, knowing smile to touch his lips. "Alright, let's proceed with the transaction. Your account number?"
The man chuckled in disbelief, nearly letting out a gasp of surprise. He quickly pulled out his phone and recited his account details.
Solomon entered the numbers into his smartphone. The moment he tapped 'send,' the man's eyes widened in pure shock at the notification that hit his screen. Solomon didn't stop there. He repeated the process over and over—sending money, receiving the cashback rebate; sending again, receiving more; cycling the funds in a seamless, high-speed loop.
The man looked as if he might faint. He stared at Solomon, his voice trembling.
"Young man... you're incredibly wealthy.
What are you doing? I can't help but feel guilty seeing this much money flooding in."
If only you knew, Solomon thought to himself. I'm only giving you this money so I can make even more in return.
Suddenly, a sharp, red system notification flashed before his eyes:
[System Notice: Repeat transaction detected on the same recipient. Cashback rate is decaying: 100% → 50% → 10%...]
[Final Warning: Further spending on this recipient will yield zero cashback.]
[Illegal Activity Confirmed: The Host cannot exploit a single source to cycle funds indefinitely.]
[Any further spending on the orphanage is now invalid!]