Morning light in Lagos never asked permission.
It barged in through thin curtains, bounced off pale walls, and stabbed tired eyes whether you'd had enough sleep or not. Daniel groaned as the brightness nudged him awake, the hum of distant generators replaced by the more cheerful sounds of a waking compound—buckets clanking at the tap, a radio somewhere playing a gospel song, kids already arguing over who stole whose slipper.
His throat felt dry. His face stiff from last night's dried tears.
For a moment, lying on his side with the sheet tangled around one leg, he forgot.
Forgot the restaurant.
Forgot Kelvin.
Forgot the blue holographic text floating in his vision.
Then he blinked properly, and the reminder appeared like a notification overlaying reality:
> Quest: Turn $10 Into A Fortune – IN PROGRESS
Day 1 – Execute Ten-Dollar Protocol.
He exhaled slowly.
Right. That.
He swung his legs off the bed and sat up, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. The events of the previous day played in his mind like badly edited flashbacks—jumpy, too bright in some parts, too blurry in others.
"Good morning, Host," the System said mildly.
"Do you… sleep?" he muttered.
> I do not.
However, I reduced notification volume to avoid interfering with your biological rest cycle.
You snore lightly, by the way.
"Fantastic," he said dryly. "Even my AI thinks I'm unattractive."
> I am not an AI in the conventional sense.
But yes, the snoring is suboptimal.
He dragged himself to his feet, shuffled to the small bathroom, and splashed cold water on his face until his eyes felt less gummy and the fog in his brain cleared a little.
As he brushed his teeth, he studied his reflection in the cracked mirror.
"New day," he told the slightly puffy-eyed man staring back. "New life. Same face."
He spat foam.
By the time he'd showered and pulled on a clean t-shirt and jeans, the compound was fully alive. Someone's baby was wailing two doors down. A neighbor's gas stove hissed through a thin wall as stew began another day of simmering.
His phone buzzed on the bed. He grabbed it.
MUM ❤️
> Good morning, my son. How are you? I dreamt of you yesterday. You were wearing white and standing on a big stage, people were clapping. I prayed for you this morning. Don't give up, okay?
His chest tightened.
He stared at the screen, thumb hovering over the keyboard.
> I'm fine, Mummy. Just working hard.
He deleted "I got dumped yesterday" and "I might be insanely rich by accident" before they made it past his brain.
He typed instead:
> Good morning, Mum. I'm okay, just tired from work. How are you feeling? How is the farm and Chidi?
Her reply came quickly.
> We are managing. Rain has been plenty so the crops are happy. It is me that is weak small, but God is strong. Don't stress yourself for me, just focus. Your time is coming.
Your time is coming.
He swallowed, smiled sadly, and typed:
> Amen. I love you.
Then, after a moment:
> I will surprise you soon.
> You always surprise me, my son. ❤️
He set the phone down gently, the edges of his resolve sharp and clear now.
"This isn't just about proving a point to Tasha," he said quietly.
> Correct.
Multi-factor motivation detected:
– Family stability.
– Personal dignity.
– Desire to avoid repeating parents' struggles.
– Petty revenge (minor).
"Minor," he agreed. "For now."
He checked his bank app.
Available Balance: ₦ 3,200.00
Right. Ten-Dollar Protocol in full effect.
"First expense of the day: data," he said.
He opened his network provider's app, selected a cheap daily bundle—₦ 500 for 1.5GB—and hit "Buy."
The confirmation notification popped up immediately.
> You have successfully purchased 1.5GB Daily Plan for ₦ 500.
A half-second later, the System chimed.
> Expense Detected: ₦ 500.00 (Mobile Data)
Reward Generated: ₦ 5,000,000.00 Equivalent
Disbursing…
Updated Crypto Balance: $269,218.74 (approx)
Daniel whistled softly.
"Every small thing," he said. "Even this."
> All legitimate expenses.
You are now connected to the world more efficiently.
This aligns with Quest objectives.
He paced the room, energy slowly building.
"Okay," he said. "Step two: brand."
He sat at his small table and opened his laptop. The familiar fan whined as it booted up, the screen's glow filling the dim room.
He'd always dreamed of having his own agency one day—a proper one, with a name, a logo, a little office. He'd played with names before in notebooks: PixelRoot, ByteBridge, CodeCraft, half of them cringeworthy even at the time.
One name had stuck though. He'd scribbled it in the margin of a notebook last year during a particularly boring Zoom meeting.
NSPIRE Digital
"I still like that," he murmured. "NSPIRE. With an N. Feels like 'spark' and 'inspire' had a child."
> Name: NSPIRE DIGITAL
Availability:
– .com domain currently expensive.
– .ng variations more accessible.
Emotional resonance score: 83/100.
Recommend: Proceed.
"Emotional resonance score?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're rating vibes now?"
> I am analyzing patterns in brand success and human response.
"Vibes," yes.
He grinned despite himself.
"Alright. NSPIRE Digital it is."
He opened his design software—nothing fancy, just a lightweight graphics tool—and began sketching a logo.
Minimal. Clean. The word NSPIRE in bold, uppercase letters, with a tiny stylized spark icon above the "I." Colors: dark blue and a bright accent. He fiddled with fonts, settling on something modern but not too tech-bro. Below, smaller text: Digital Studio.
As he worked, faint highlights appeared around certain options.
> That font is overused in scammy platforms. Avoid.
Slightly adjust spacing here.
Humans trust logos that feel balanced.
He frowned. "You're even a designer now?"
> I have processed millions of branding outcomes.
Your instinct is good. I am simply… enhancing.
An hour slipped by in focused silence.
By the time he leaned back, cracking his neck, he had:
A simple logo.
A basic brand palette (deep navy, soft grey, bright "spark" accent).
A one-page flyer layout.
He opened a new document and began typing.
NSPIRE DIGITAL – SIMPLE, POWERFUL ONLINE PRESENCE FOR SMALL BUSINESSES
Under that, in bullet points:
One-page professional website for your business
WhatsApp button so customers can contact you easily
Google Business Profile setup (so you show on maps/search)
Free basic logo if you don't have one
At the bottom, bold:
> Intro Offer:
Standard Package – ₦ 50,000
First 3 clients this month get it for ₦ 35,000
And then, his contact:
> Call / WhatsApp: 0802-XXX-XXXX
Instagram: @nspiredigital (TBD)
"It's not perfect," he said, reading it aloud. "But it's clear."
> Clarity > cleverness.
Recommended improvement:
Add one small line explaining benefit, not just features.
He nodded, added:
> Turn people who see you offline into customers who find you online.
Better.
He exported the flyer as a simple PDF and also as a black-and-white friendly image.
"Time to print," he said. "That's another ₦ 1,000 or so."
> Approved Ten-Dollar Protocol Expense.
He grabbed his backpack, slipped the laptop in, then his notebook and a pen. He checked his wallet: notes neatly folded.
As he locked the door behind him, his heart beat a little faster. Not from fear now, but from a wired kind of anticipation.
Baba Musa was still at the gate, now peeling boiled groundnuts.
"Dan-jay," the older man called. "You dey go work?"
"Something like that," Daniel said, adjusting his backpack. "Small business."
"God go prosper am," Baba said automatically, as though blessing each person who walked out. "No worry, e go blow."
"Amen," Daniel replied. For the first time, the word didn't feel like a desperate wish. It felt… almost like a spoiler.
He walked to the main road, jumped on a keke heading towards Ojuelegba, then another down to a busier business district—a place where shops packed themselves side by side: salons, boutiques, eateries, small printing presses, mobile phone shops.
> Expense Detected: ₦ 400.00 (Transport – Keke, Bus)
Reward Generated: ₦ 4,000,000.00 Equivalent
Disbursing…
Updated Crypto Balance: $300,002.13 (approx)
By the time he stepped down, the city's daytime chaos greeted him full-force: horns, shouted prices, afrobeats leaking from car speakers, the smell of suya and exhaust fumes.
He ducked into a small business center tucked between a phone repair shop and a salon. The sign above the door read "Grace & Glory Prints", the red letters fading a bit.
Inside, the air was hot from the printer's constant labor. A young woman in braids sat behind the counter, tapping on her phone.
"Good morning," Daniel greeted.
She glanced up, then did a small double-take at his backpack and slightly serious expression. "Morning. You wan type or print?"
"Print," he said. "One page, black and white. But like… twenty copies."
She gestured. "Send am."
He Bluetooth'd the flyer over. She opened it, glanced at the content, raised her brows slightly.
"You dey do website?" she asked.
"Yes," he said. "That's the idea."
"Hmm." Her eyes flicked down to his intro offer. "Na ₦ 35,000?" she asked, impressed. "If person get money, e no bad."
"One day, when you're ready for yours, I fit do you discount," he said with a small smile.
She smiled back. "Make money come first."
As the old printer clattered into life, spitting out sheet after sheet, the System chimed again.
> Expense Imminent.
Estimated cost: ₦ 800–₦ 1,200 depending on shop pricing.
Remember:
– Do not haggle every kobo if it costs time/resentment.
– Your wealth is no longer determined by micro-savings.
He swallowed. That would take some rewiring. He'd grown up counting every naira twice.
The woman gathered the warm stack of flyers and stapled them lightly.
"Na ₦ 900," she said. "Paper don cost these days."
He nodded and handed over a ₦ 1,000 note.
"Keep the change," he said, surprising both of them.
Her eyes widened. "Ah-ah. Thank you o!" She grinned. "Make your business prosper."
> Expense Detected: ₦ 1,000.00 (Printing & Tip)
Reward Generated: ₦ 10,000,000.00 Equivalent
Updated Crypto Balance: $341,587.64 (approx)
"From your lips to God's ears," Daniel said to her, and from his ears to the System's algorithms, apparently.
He stepped back into the sun, flyers in his hand.
They looked… basic. No color. Just crisp black text and his minimal logo at the top. But in his chest, they felt like keys.
"Alright," he murmured. "Time to actually talk to humans."
> Social Interaction Mode:
– Breathe.
– Lead with problems you can solve, not with "please give me work."
– Be ready for rejection. It does not kill you.
He picked a direction and started walking.
The first shop he approached was a small boutique: dresses hanging in the doorway, mannequins wearing slightly outdated styles, a hand-painted sign above reading "Debbie's Closet".
Inside, a woman in her early thirties, hair wrapped in a scarf, was folding clothes.
"Good morning, ma," Daniel said, smiling. "How business?"
She glanced up, cautious. "We dey push. What do you want to buy?"
"I actually came to see how I can help you sell more," he said.
She frowned. "We no need staff o."
"No, not that." He held up a flyer. "I'm a web designer. I build simple websites for businesses like yours. So people can find you online, order, chat with you on WhatsApp. You know how customers always ask 'do you have Instagram?' or 'do you have website?'"
Her eyes flickered with recognition.
"Everytime," she said. "All this small small girls. 'Send me your page.' I just dey show them from my phone."
"Exactly," he said. "Imagine instead you can say 'check debbiescloset.com.' Or at least have a proper link you can send that shows your best products, your prices, your location, and a WhatsApp button."
She hesitated, then took the flyer.
"Website no dey too expensive?" she asked, suspicion still there. "I hear say na hundred thousand, two hundred…"
"For big projects," he said. "But my intro package is ₦ 35,000 for a simple, clean page. And I handle everything—setup, linking to your WhatsApp, basic training on how to update it."
Her brows knit. ₦ 35,000 was not a small number in her world. But neither was rent.
"I no know," she said finally. "Right now, money tight. Maybe later."
He nodded easily. "No wahala. Keep the flyer. When you're ready, call me. Even if it's not next month. Even if it's next year."
She looked a little surprised he wasn't pushier.
As he turned to go, the System flashed a small notification in the corner of his vision:
> Lead Generated:
– Debbie's Closet
– Contact: Pending
– Interest Level: Mild
Repeat visits or proof of results with similar businesses may convert.
"Wait," Debbie said as he reached the door.
He turned.
"If I bring you two other people," she asked, "you fit reduce my own price?"
He smiled. "Bring me two confirmed clients and I'll give you your own for ₦ 25k instead of ₦ 35k. And I'll add small extra photo gallery for you."
She nodded slowly, eyes calculating. "Okay. I go keep your paper."
He stepped back into the street, something light in his chest.
"That went… better than expected," he admitted.
> You did not die.
Your pitch was slightly shaky at first but improved.
Social Skill "Business Pitching" – Level 1 → Level 2.
He visited a small restaurant next—"Mama Peace Foods"—where the owner complained that Jollof orders fell whenever rain came because people stayed home.
He explained how having an online menu and a WhatsApp order link could help. The woman listened, wiping her hands on her apron, skeptical but interested. He left a flyer.
Then a small pharmacy where the owner grumbled that people only remembered them when they were already dying.
"Imagine if people searching 'pharmacy near me' on Google see you first," Daniel said. "That's what I want to do for you."
By afternoon, his stack of twenty flyers had shrunk to five.
His throat was dry. His armpits damp. Rejections and "maybe later"s had accumulated, but so had something else: a rhythm.
He was less nervous with each pitch, more tuned to what each business cared about. Some cared about visibility, some about prestige, some about convenience.
He stopped at a roadside kiosk to buy a chilled bottle of water and a small Gala sausage roll.
> Expense Detected: ₦ 300.00 (Snacks)
Reward Generated: ₦ 3,000,000.00 Equivalent
Updated Crypto Balance: $374,295.47 (approx)
"You know, System," he said between bites, "this feels… weird."
> Clarify.
"I'm walking around worrying about ₦ 300 snacks," he said, "while sitting on more money than most of these people will ever see."
> That is why we created the two personas plan.
Empathy remains possible when you remember what it felt like to have only ₦ 300.
Also, if you immediately start throwing money around, you break the game.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Do you ever worry about the ethics of this?" he asked. "Me having this and others not?"
> Constantly.
That is why I am selective about Hosts.
You are statistically more likely than average to use this power to build, not just hoard or destroy.
He took a long swallow of water.
"High praise," he said. "Let's hope I don't disappoint your algorithm."
> Algorithm is watching.
Around 4 p.m., when the sun had softened slightly and the bustle of the area shifted from "morning hustle" to "evening wind-down," he ducked into a barbershop.
It was small, three chairs, one TV mounted in the corner playing a Nollywood movie at high volume. Two guys were waiting on a bench; one nodded at Daniel in that default male acknowledgement.
The barber—a guy with sharp eyes and a head full of small twists—looked up.
"Sharp guy," he grinned. "You wan barb?"
"Not today," Daniel said. "I came to give you something."
"Ah." The barber's grin dimmed. "If na tract or church flyer, abeg—"
Daniel laughed. "No, nothing like that." He held up his own flyer. "I build websites for businesses. I've been looking for smart, sharp places like yours to talk to."
"Website?" The barber snorted. "My brother, people no dey use website to barb. Dem just waka enter."
"True," Daniel said easily. "But how many times people don call you ask, 'abeg where your shop dey exactly?' Or 'do you fit come house barb?' Or 'how much be low cut, how much be dread?'"
The barber's eyes narrowed. "Everyday."
"Exactly." Daniel stepped closer, tapping the flyer. "What if you have a simple page where everything is there—your price list, photos of your best cuts, your location on Google Maps, and a button that opens WhatsApp so people fit book you ahead? You fit even add 'house call' premium."
One of the guys waiting on the bench chimed in. "That one make sense o. I dey always ask my barber price list. E go dey change like weather."
The barber smirked. "Na because dollar dey rise."
"The page no need fine pass this shop," Daniel continued. "But when people see it, they think 'this guy sabi.' It's like digital fresh cut."
That got a laugh.
The barber gestured. "Abeg, siddon first."
Daniel sat. They talked.
Unlike Debbie's uncertain hums and Mama Peace's suspicious gaze, this conversation flowed. The barber was entrepreneurial, asking sharp questions.
"How I go pay you? You go need everything once?"
"If I get website, Google go just dey put my shop for front like that?"
"What if I want to dey post before-and-after pictures?"
Daniel answered each patiently. Some answers he knew from experience. Others, the System quietly nudged him towards.
> Over-promise = short-term win, long-term disaster.
Be honest about limitations.
He felt it—like a subtle warmth at the edge of his thoughts whenever he was about to say something overly optimistic. That had to be the System, keeping his sales pitch grounded.
Eventually, the barber leaned back, scratching his chin.
"How much you say again?" he asked, staring at the flyer.
"₦ 35k for the full package," Daniel said, then added, "But for you, if you can pay ₦ 20k deposit now and balance before delivery, I fit do ₦ 30k."
The barber hissed softly. "Ah. Money."
He glanced at his shop—the worn leather chairs, the slightly flickering TV, the mirror patched with tape in one corner.
"See," he said, "na end of month I dey usually see small money. Right now, I still dey owe landlord small."
Daniel nodded.
He was about to say "no problem, call me when you're ready," when the System flashed something at the edge of his vision:
> Opportunity Flag:
– Client type: High referral potential (barber)
– Foot traffic: High
– Visibility: Constant
Suggestion:
– Offer reduced intro price in exchange for visible credit on site and referral program.
He took a breath.
"Okay," he said slowly. "Let's do it this way. I really like your shop. People trust you. If we make you look good online, others will copy you."
The barber grinned. "Na true talk."
"So," Daniel continued, "I can do your website for ₦ 25k instead of ₦ 35k, if you agree to two things:"
The barber's eyes sharpened. "I dey hear."
"One," Daniel said, holding up a finger. "You let me put my small NSPIRE Digital logo at the bottom of your site. Just small. So when people ask who do am, they see my name."
"No wahala," the barber said quickly.
"Two," Daniel said, holding up a second finger. "For every person you bring that pays for their own website, you get ₦ 5k off something—either I refund you later or I give you free update/features. Basically, you help me, I help you."
The barber's grin returned full-force.
"Referral!" he said. "Okay! That one make sense."
He opened a drawer, rummaged, and pulled out a slightly crumpled envelope. Inside was a mix of notes—₦ 1k, ₦ 500, ₦ 200.
He counted.
"Na ₦ 15k I fit drop now," he said, pushing the notes across the small table between them. "Give me one week make I complete balance."
Daniel hesitated, the careful, scarcity-trained part of his brain screaming: Insist on more! You need the money! What if he ghosts you?
Another part—the one that had a blue HUD and a half-million-dollar crypto balance—whispered: This is your first client. The real value is not the ₦ 10k difference. It's the story, the proof, the pattern.
He nodded.
"Deal," he said, taking the cash. "I'll come by tomorrow to take some pictures of your best cuts, you and your guys. Once I set everything up, I'll show you."
They shook hands.
> Quest Update:
– First Paying Client Acquired (Barbershop – "KingsFade Cuts")
Payment Received: ₦ 15,000.00 (Deposit)
Notes:
– Legitimate business income.
– Also counts as "expense fuel" when reinvested.
The System chimed again almost immediately.
> Expense (Implied):
– You will spend money executing this project (data, hosting, tools).
Pre-Allocating Reward Pool…
Daniel tucked the cash into his wallet carefully, separate from his personal survival money.
As he stepped out of the barbershop, the late afternoon sun painted the street in gold. His feet felt lighter, like the ground had softened under his steps.
"That felt… right," he said quietly. "Not like scamming someone, but actually offering something useful."
> Correct.
You created value, then captured a fraction of it.
This is sustainable.
Also:
– Barbershop clients are extremely chatty.
– If his website impresses people, your name will spread in a high-trust environment.
He walked a bit more, handing out the last of his flyers selectively now—only to places that felt like they had owners who cared, not just people killing time.
By the time his stomach reminded him it was evening and he'd been skipping meals again, his flyer stack was empty.
He checked his cash: after transport and snacks, Ten-Dollar Protocol still had a small buffer.
He flagged down a bus towards home.
> Expense Detected: ₦ 400.00 (Transport – Return Trip)
Reward Generated: ₦ 4,000,000.00 Equivalent
Updated Crypto Balance: $410,881.02 (approx)
Back in his room, he dropped his backpack and peeled off his slightly damp shirt, switching it for a cooler one. The sun was almost gone now; his single bulb cast a dim yellow circle over the table.
He spread the ₦ 15k deposit on the table briefly, like some small religious ritual, then put it in an envelope labeled "KingsFade – Deposit."
He opened his laptop again.
"You know, System," he said, "today felt like… nothing special from the outside. Just one broke guy walking around with flyers. But inside…"
> Inside, you:
– Took the first intentional steps of your new life.
– Proved you can create legitimate income even at low resource levels.
– Acquired your first case study.
Quest Progress:
Turn $10 Into A Fortune
– Phase 1: Foundation – 40% Complete.
Daniel blinked. "Already?"
> You:
– Implemented Ten-Dollar Protocol spending.
– Formalized brand and service offering.
– Acquired first client.
Remaining for Phase 1:
– Deliver KingsFade website successfully.
– Secure at least one more paying client.
– Document process (for scalability).
He nodded slowly.
"I can do that," he said. "Tonight, I'll draft the structure for KingsFade's site. Tomorrow, I'll take pictures and start building."
He paused.
"And when do I… you know… start actually touching System money? Beyond you just multiplying everything in the background?"
> After Phase 1 Completion.
Unlockable:
– Insight Mode (Basic) → improved instinct for good deals and bad moves.
– Safe Channel to begin slowly integrating System assets into your visible life.
Patience now will prevent panic later.
He cracked his knuckles and opened a blank page in his design software.
He created a simple mock-up: big hero section with a clean photo of the barber, bold text:
> KingsFade Cuts – Sharp Lines, Smooth Vibes.
Underneath:
> – Fades, tapers, lines, dread maintenance
– House calls available (extra charge)
– Open Monday–Sunday, 8am–8pm
Location, WhatsApp button, small gallery section.
As he dragged elements around, the System occasionally highlighted better placements.
> Move call-to-action higher.
People are lazy. If they like what they see, don't make them scroll to act.
By the time the power flickered and came back again, he had something he wouldn't be ashamed to show a client.
His phone buzzed.
A new WhatsApp message.
Unknown number.
> Good evening. This is Mama Peace from the restaurant. One girl brought your flyer. Come tomorrow afternoon make we talk well. I no promise anything, but I wan hear you.
A slow smile spread on his face.
He replied:
> Good evening ma. Thank you so much. I will be there.
The System practically purred.
> Lead Converted to Meeting:
– Mama Peace Foods
– Interest Level: Moderate
Social Engine: Engaging.
Daniel leaned back in his chair, exhaling.
It was just one day. One client. One potential prospect.
But he could feel it—the shape of something forming, like a 3D print slowly building layer by layer.
He stood, stretched until his back popped, then walked to the small window and pushed it open. The night air floated in, warm and carrying faint sounds of music from a nearby bar.
"System," he said, looking at the patch of sky he could see. "Be honest with me."
> I usually am.
"If I keep going like this," he asked, "how long before people start really noticing? Not just barbers and restaurants, but… bigger players?"
> At your current trajectory, without leveraging major System assets overtly:
– 3–6 months before you become "known" locally in your niche.
– 12–18 months before you attract attention from larger entities.
With smart use of System assets (after protocols unlock):
– These times can be halved.
He nodded.
"And Tasha?" he asked, the name tasting less like poison now. "How long before she hears of me again?"
> That depends on your tolerance for petty narrative symmetry.
He snorted.
"Give me a range."
> With no intentional manipulation:
– 2–4 months before your brand appears in a circle she observes (social media, friend's business, random mention).
With intentional but subtle moves (ads targeting certain demographics, etc.):
– Sooner.
He thought about it, then shook his head.
"No," he said quietly. "I won't aim at her. I'll aim at success. If she stands in the way… that's her business."
> Healthy decision.
Revenge is a side effect of growth, not the goal.
He let the curtain fall back into place.
On the notebook, under his scribbled "10,000X – DAY 1," he added:
> – Bought data.
– Designed NSPIRE brand and flyer.
– Printed 20 flyers.
– Walked streets.
– Talked to people.
– Got my first deposit.
– Another lead called in.
It's small.
But it's a start.
He underlined "start" three times.
As he crawled back into bed, exhaustion heavier than the previous night's grief but a little sweeter, the System updated his HUD quietly:
> Quest: Turn $10 Into A Fortune – IN PROGRESS
Phase 1 – Foundation:
– 65% Complete.
Keep going.
Daniel closed his eyes, the ghost of a genuine smile on his lips.
Outside, Lagos roared and laughed and hustled as always.
Inside, in a small self-contained room that had seen its share of tears and NEPA cuts, a broken guy with ₦ 3,200 and a ridiculous System had taken his first real step towards becoming something else entirely.
Tomorrow, there would be photos to take, websites to build, and another pitch with Mama Peace.
For now, there was sleep.
And somewhere in the background of his dreams, a soft, satisfied ding.