Lying in bed that night, he forced himself to breathe slowly, to calm the storm of possibilities swirling in his head. In rebirth novels, the protagonists always seemed unstoppable — by their early twenties they were already untouchable billionaires, masters of industries, rulers of empires. But this was reality, not a story on a screen or page. He knew better.
In truth, he wasn't some Hollywood genius. He couldn't sing, couldn't act, and had no desire to sit behind a camera shouting "Action!" His father's world was fascinating, yes, but he wasn't naïve enough to think he could rewrite cinema history. That wasn't his path.
The real key — the first, most essential step — was money accumulation. Without it, dreams remained dreams. But unlike the overconfident heroes he had once admired, he had no intention of drawing unwanted attention. No, he would never aim for trillions. Trillions meant danger. Trillions meant the FBI, IRS, and government agents breathing down his neck, treating him as a threat to national security. He could already imagine the suspicion: How could one man, barely thirty, outpace entire nations? That kind of power was unacceptable in the real world.
So he drew his line. Four hundred to five hundred billion — that was the maximum cap he would allow himself. A fortune that would make him untouchable, yes, but not so absurd that governments would view him as a destabilizing force. Musk had achieved something similar in his last life, and Musk had survived. That was proof enough.
But the number itself didn't excite him. What mattered was time and freedom. By the age of thirty, he would have his first billion. Beyond that, he wouldn't even need to count. Wealth, once it reached that level, became meaningless numbers on screens.
His real goal was simpler. To enjoy life. To live the years he had been denied before. To eat well, travel the world, fall in love, see history unfold — and to do it all without the suffocating fear of poverty or failure.
He also harbored a quieter dream. In his first life, he had been drawn to the elegance of finance, the power of banking. But with power came responsibility, endless hours of grinding work, and burdens he didn't want to carry. He had no desire to bury himself under that weight.
So he chose differently. Board seats. That was the answer. To sit quietly among the powerful, shaping decisions with a single vote, a single voice — but without being shackled by daily operations. Influence without exhaustion. Power without slavery. That, he thought, was the perfect balance.
His lips curved into a faint smile. For the first time since his rebirth, he felt not just excitement, but clarity.
Step one: build wealth.
Step two: secure influence.
Step three: live fully.
The path was dangerous, yes. But unlike in his first life, this time he was prepared to walk it carefully.
And with that plan sketched firmly in his mind, he drifted into sleep — a child's body wrapped around a man's ambition.