Eric arrived at the pawnshop district accompanied by the armored car and two Black Falcon men positioned a few meters away. It was still strange. Not just having security — but knowing that a single phone call was enough for a paramilitary group to provide a vehicle, driver, and tactical coverage for him.
A few months earlier, he could barely pay rent.
Now he walked through one of the most questionable neighborhoods in the city with firm posture, like someone who knew exactly what he was doing. Even if, deep down, he was still improvising half of his own plans.
It was time to put his new strategy into action.
Offering too much money would raise suspicion. Questions about its origin. Dangerous curiosity. Envy.
But an unusual proposal… could still be tolerated.
In each store, Eric repeated the same approach, always calm, always looking the merchant in the eyes:
— I'm interested in buying coins. I'll pay 30% above value.
The math was simple: if the merchant gathered 100 euros in coins, Eric would pay 130 euros. With a limit of one thousand euros per transaction.
Enough to be attractive.
Not enough to seem insane.
He knew exactly why he was limiting it.
First: his movements were already drawing attention.
Second: walking around with large amounts of cash in that district was asking to be followed.
Third: when the prize is too big, people suspect a scam.
He needed to look bold. Not unhinged.
And it worked.
The merchants widened their eyes. Some hesitated. Others accepted immediately, sensing easy profit.
Coins that would sit in registers for months were suddenly turning into extra income.
Eric maintained a professional smile while the security guards discreetly observed every move.
It didn't take long for his phone to vibrate in his pocket.
He answered.
— Have you lost your mind?! — Elena's voice exploded on the other end.
Eric moved the phone slightly away from his ear.
— What do you mean?
— What do I mean? You own almost half of my shop and you're offering 30% profit on money across the entire district! And you don't even stop by your own store to make that offer!
He closed his eyes for a second.
— What kind of businessman offers that much money to competitors? — she continued.
Eric glanced around. One of the mercenaries pretended to examine a display window, but was clearly listening.
How could he explain without sounding like a con artist?
— Elena… I have my reasons.
— You have your reasons? That's it?
He knew any technical explanation about the Midas System would be impossible.
— Have you found a buyer for my coins? — he asked, shifting focus.
She inhaled deeply.
— Do you think it's simple to find someone with enough liquidity to buy a thousand coins? I'll find one. But I need details.
Eric fought irritation. A memory cut through him like a blade:
— Did you question the origin of my resources when I used them to save your family's property?
Silence.
The kind of silence that hurts.
— I'm sorry… — she murmured. — I'll do what you asked.
— Thank you.
He hung up.
The next hours were exhausting. Enter, negotiate, pay, collect coins. Repeat.
His back began to ache. The constant presence of the mercenaries, exciting at first, now felt suffocating.
— Are you finished, sir? — one of them asked.
— Yes — Eric replied, rolling his shoulders.
The man seemed to want to say something.
Eric made a short gesture.
— Go ahead.
The guard hesitated.
— Forgive my frankness, Mr. Santos… but why do you still live in that apartment? Is it strategy? Or is it really your home?
Eric fell silent.
Even he didn't know.
Maybe because that place was the last fragment of his old life. A fixed point in the middle of chaos.
— Honestly… I don't know. Does it bother you?
— It's not a bother, sir. But it's difficult to guarantee your safety in that area.
Eric nodded slowly.
— I think you're right.
The guard looked surprised.
— I'll talk to my lawyer.
They got into the car.
Eric called Lúcia.
She answered almost immediately.
— What do you need, sir?
— I prefer Eric.
Brief silence.
— What do you need, Eric?
— I need a large house. Spacious. Secure. I want to rent it. As soon as possible. I can pay in gold.
On the other end, the sound of papers being pulled.
— For when? Next month? Two weeks?
— Tomorrow.
— Are you insane?!
He smiled.
— Consider it an emergency. No questions.
Lúcia exhaled slowly.
She still didn't know if she worked for a genius or a sophisticated criminal.
— I'll do my best.
He hung up.
— And the prospectors? — the curious guard asked.
Eric leaned back in his seat.
— Already hired.
The man frowned.
In truth, Eric hadn't finalized anything formally yet.
But he had started something bigger.
Prospectors not only of physical gold.
Prospectors of forgotten coins.
He intended to expand into neighboring cities. Create a collection network. Small intermediaries earning commission to gather coins from markets, churches, parking lots, old machines, storage rooms.
He didn't need to mine gold.
He needed to mine change.
The car crossed a bridge as the sun began to set.
Eric rested his head against the glass.
In less than a week he had:
Bought and sold a business.
Hired mercenaries.
Settled a debt with criminals.
Unlocked a dimensional vault.
Started operational expansion.
And he still felt behind.
His phone vibrated again.
Message from Lúcia:
"I have three property options. Gated community. Private security. I need your choice today."
He smiled.
Life was accelerating.
But something inside him was beginning to change.
At first, he only wanted to survive.
Then, to protect Elena.
Now… he wanted control.
Control over risk.
Over money.
Over the system.
The car stopped in front of the old building.
Eric looked at the peeling facade.
Maybe it really was time to leave it behind.
He got out.
Climbed the stairs.
Entered the apartment.
Closed the door.
The silence was heavy.
He walked to the wardrobe.
Opened it.
The golden shine was still there.
But now it didn't feel like a miracle.
It felt like responsibility.
Eric sat on the bed and activated the System.
The blue interface appeared.
He selected "Convert Coins."
The coins he had purchased during the day began transforming.
One by one.
The glow filled the room.
He no longer smiled the way he used to.
Now he analyzed.
Calculated.
With each new coin created, he thought about logistics, storage, risk, expansion.
The Midas System wasn't just wealth.
It was scale.
And scale required structure.
His phone vibrated again.
Message from Elena:
"I have a potential buyer. Not local. Wants total discretion."
Eric replied:
"Schedule a meeting. I want details first."
He closed his eyes for a moment.
He knew he was crossing invisible boundaries.
The more he grew, the more legitimate he needed to appear.
Companies.
Contracts.
Real estate.
Formal security.
Gold had to become system.
The system had to become empire.
He stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the city.
It was still the same.
But he wasn't.
And for the first time, instead of fear, he felt something different.
Ambition.
Not the desperate ambition of someone trying to escape poverty.
But the cold ambition of someone who realizes he can shape the game.
And somewhere in the shadows of the pawnshop district, defeated men were watching.
And waiting.
Because when money begins to move in silence…
There are always eyes counting.
And Eric was beginning to understand that his greatest threat was no longer the loan sharks.
It was attention.
And attention… was the one resource the Midas System could not buy.