Season 2 Chapter 10
The Knock
Two days later, the federal deeds were officially processed. The land was his.
Malesh was back in Room 404 at the Oasis Grand. His desk was covered in topographical maps and shipping manifests he had drawn up for the incoming SuliBulli equipment.
He stared at the blank space on his operational map, but his mind drifted back to the market woman and the bright red tomato currently sitting on his nightstand.
I need to do something, Malesh thought, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk. I need to pay her back. It is literally required. A transactional imbalance like that cannot stand, especially when it was driven by pure kindness.
He was just about to draft a plan to anonymously fund her market stall for the next decade when he heard it.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
It was a slow, deliberate sound on his hotel room door.
Malesh froze, his pen hovering over the paper. He hadn't ordered food. He hadn't told anyone his room number. Nobody in this town knew who he actually was.
He quietly slipped his hand into his pocket, his fingers wrapping around the cold steel handle of his folding knife. His thumb flicked the safety lock off.
"Who is it?" Malesh asked, his voice deadpan, projecting absolutely zero fear.
The door didn't open. But a voice—calm, deep, and carrying a very familiar, dangerous accent—drifted through the wood.
"A man who knows exactly what you found in that ravine, Mr. Malesh," the mysterious voice replied smoothly. "And a man who has a proposition regarding your new... energy venture."
Malesh's eyes narrowed into dark slits. The grip on his knife tightened.
The game had just gotten complicated.
The 500 Billion Scapegoat
Malesh did not open the door. He stepped to the side, keeping his back to the wall, his thumb resting on the safety lock of his folding knife.
"It's open," Malesh said flatly.
The brass doorknob turned. A man stepped into the cramped hotel room. He was in his late fifties, wearing an immaculate white linen suit that looked completely untouched by the desert dust. He carried a silver-handled walking stick, though he clearly didn't need it to walk. He radiated the kind of arrogant, generational wealth that usually made Malesh want to break things.
The man looked around the cheap room, his eyes lingering on the topographical maps spread across the desk.
"I know you bought a huge amount of land out in the countryside," the man said, a smug, patronizing smile on his face. "Thousands of square kilometers in the fucking desert. And I know exactly why you bought that."
Malesh didn't sheath his knife. He just stared at the man with absolute, deadpan exhaustion.
"I bought it to watch scorpions have sex," Malesh replied without blinking. "I don't have any bad intentions. I am just deeply invested in arachnid reproduction."
The man's smile vanished, replaced by a cold, hard glare. He gripped his walking stick tighter.
"You think you are clever, boy," the man sneered. "I am here to watch you bleed. You stepped into an arena you do not understand."
"Okay, okay," Malesh sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You brought your dramatic villain monologue. You got this thing out of your system. So, what do you actually want?"
The man stood taller, projecting his authority. "You should know who you are speaking to. I am one of the richest persons in this world. And I am certainly one of the richest men in this country."
Malesh looked at him like he was a stain on the carpet.
"So what the fuck do I have to do with this shit?" Malesh snapped, his patience instantly vaporizing. "Do you want a medal? Do you want me to clap? Just tell me why the fuck you are standing in my hotel room."
The man blinked, clearly not used to being spoken to like this. "You are very direct. So, you want to go to the direct, final point?"
"I am not like the guy who does various steps and buys flowers before getting intimate with a girl," Malesh stated, his voice dripping with annoyance. "I directly do that. I skip the useless foreplay. So get to the fucking point before I throw you out the window."
The man took a deep breath, deciding to ignore the blatant disrespect.
"Okay," the man said, stepping toward the desk. "I have a deal for you. I want you to sign an exclusive agreement with me. For years, I suspected there was something beneath the northern ravines, but my geological teams were not able to find it. But you were the one. After you bought the land so aggressively today, I utilized my contacts at the registry. I know there are huge oil reserves under that rock."
Malesh remained silent, waiting for the math.
"I want you to sell the oil that is extracted from your mine only to me," the man proposed. "There are several other conditions, but the benefits are massive. I will help you with the starting of the industry. The President of Sulwadiya is a personal friend of mine. There will be zero problems with the government officers. I am going to provide you with infrastructure, logistics, money, and all the federal clearances regarding this operation."
"And the price?" Malesh asked.
"I will pay you 100 Billion credits right now, just for the act of signing a contract with me to only supply my network," the man smiled, thinking he had won. "The rest of the thing is standard business. I will buy the crude oil from you at your asking price. The 100 Billion is just the signing bonus for exclusivity."
Malesh tilted his head, calculating the variables. "What kind of company are you actually operating? Why do you need exclusive rights to unrefined crude?"
"I operate a lot of companies," the man boasted, adjusting his cuffs. "I have a massive corporate group. Specifically, I own the largest transportation and refining network on the continent. I want to move this crude oil and make a fortune out of it. But here is the brilliant part of the strategy..."
The man leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"For example, you are going to sell the crude oil to me at 100 credits per barrel," the man explained. "But I am going to sell the refined product to the public at 150 credits per barrel. A massive markup. And when the public and the media ask me why it is so fucking expensive, I will directly take your name. I will say the lie that you, the greedy foreign miner, were selling it to me at exorbitant prices. We will make fake deals, fake invoices, and fake everything to prove it. I get the massive profit margins, and the public directs all their hatred at you."
Malesh stared at the man. The economic logic was sound—a classic scapegoat maneuver to avoid political backlash while maintaining a monopoly—but the numbers were insulting.
"Okay. You are going to do this much, but I also have certain conditions for you," Malesh said, finally folding his knife and putting it in his pocket. "First, you cannot manipulate the crude oil price too much. If you spike the market, it destabilizes my long-term extraction goals. The variation can only be within the radius of five credits to seven credits. Maximum seven credits markup on the fake invoices."
"Or," Malesh added, staring dead into the man's eyes, "minimum, you can have zero credits if you don't want any profit."
The man laughed, a hollow, echoing sound. "Yeah, I don't want any profit. That is why I'm investing in this deal."
"Your sarcasm is noted," Malesh replied coldly. "But I am not going to be a part of this deal for a measly 100 Billion. You are asking me to take on the entire public relations nightmare of an entire country. You are asking me to be the villain so you can play the victim."
Malesh walked over to his desk, grabbed his fountain pen, and looked back at the billionaire.
"If I am going to be your fixed asset for a period of five years," Malesh stated, his voice leaving absolutely no room for negotiation, "I need at least 500 Billion credits. Upfront. In untraceable DI'an bearer bonds. Otherwise, you can get the fuck out of my room and buy your own shovels."
The Characterless Billionaire
The wealthy man stared at Malesh, his face tightening with anger.
"500 Billion?" the man scoffed, gripping his silver-handled walking stick. "I cannot provide you that much sum of money. You are already earning a huge amount of money by selling the crude oil to me at your own price. The exclusivity is just a formality."
"It is not a formality; it is a cage," Malesh countered, leaning back against his desk. "If I get a better investor next year, I am stuck with you because of my exclusivity deal for a measly 100 billion. I want 500 Billion credits so that I can justify being stuck with you for five years. You can pay that amount to me in parts over the five years. It would be absolutely okay. I don't give a fuck about waiting, as long as the contract value is accurate."
Malesh crossed his arms, looking the man up and down.
"And honestly, securing that financial anchor is more important to me than actual intimacy," Malesh stated deadpan. "Though, for a guy like you, I definitely thought a specific word about you when you walked in."
The rich person frowned, his arrogance faltering into confusion. "What kind of word did you think about me?"
"Actually, you know, from seeing a guy like you in that pristine white suit," Malesh said, his voice completely devoid of emotion, "I always thought of a man who would be covered with two girls, a secretary, and lusting all the time, you know? Enjoying sex all the time. A person like that, basically."
The man's jaw dropped. His face flushed bright red.
"Are you a literal idiot?!" the man sputtered, deeply offended. "I am not that kind of guy! I am a very serious one. I am a businessman!"
"I am not sure about that," Malesh replied, tilting his head and analyzing him. "You don't look to be."
"Are you fucking mad?" the man shouted, losing his aristocratic composure entirely. "Okay! You just want to know? If I am that kind of guy, if I am rich and I am enjoying my life, what does it have to do with you?"
"You know," Malesh said, crossing his arms like a disappointed professor, "according to the principles of any basic religion or moral philosophy, it is not good to have this kind of behavior. It is called fucking characterlessness."
The billionaire stared at the 25-year-old in the cheap canvas clothes, absolutely bewildered that he was being lectured on morality by a guy who had just threatened to surgically attach a steel pipe to a merchant's digestive tract.
"Are we really going to discuss upon this thing right now?" the man asked, rubbing his temples in sheer frustration. "Okay. I am not going to provide you 500 billion credits. The negotiation is over."
"Then I am not going to provide you the fucking deal," Malesh said instantly. "Get out of my room."
The man froze. He looked at the topographical maps of the oil fields. He thought about the monopoly. He thought about the profits.
"Ah, fuck this shit," the man groaned, throwing his hands in the air. "Okay, okay, okay, I am providing you the deal. I am going to pay that 500 billion credits to you. Now give me your fucking account."
"I don't have a real account in this country," Malesh stated. "My capital is offshore."
"Of course you don't," the man sighed, pulling a notebook from his pocket. "Now, I'm going to create an account for you. Just provide me the details in this country. All your assets and everything are going to be preserved in this."
"Okay, that's great," Malesh nodded. "Logical choice. Let me ask your name, because we haven't officially introduced each other. I am Malesh Bulwadi, from DI."
Using his family name in a foreign country was a calculated risk, but Malesh knew it carried weight in international corporate circles.
The man straightened his suit, recovering a fraction of his dignity. "I am Leux Hueman, from Sulwadia. You know, the country you are standing in right now."
"Noted, Leux," Malesh said. "Now, I have one more condition before you leave. Can I have 10,000 credits from you right now?"
Leux Hueman stopped, looking at him like he was insane. "We just agreed to a 500 Billion credit contract, and you are asking me for 10,000 credits in pocket change? Why do you want that?"
"This has nothing to do with you," Malesh snapped, his voice completely flat. "It is none of your business. If you have it, just please give it to me. It is really important. And also, use your construction contacts to develop the dirt street that is present in the front of the local market. Pave it. And construct five concrete shops there right now."
Leux stared at him, utterly baffled. "Wait. Hold on. Do you want 10,000 credits right now in cash, or do you want me to make 10,000 credits worth of concrete shops?"
"The concrete shops," Malesh replied, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. "In front of the market."
"My brain is literally not working," Leux groaned, aggressively rubbing his face. "Okay, okay. You should have stated that clearly! First you are telling me it is none of my business what you do with the cash, and then in the next breath you are asking me to create concrete shops for the exact same amount. Just tell me what you want, bro."
Malesh raised an eyebrow, genuinely taken aback. "You are calling me bro?"
"Now we are business partners," Leux said, waving his hand dismissively. "And there is one more important clause that I forgot to tell you before tomorrow's official meeting. Tomorrow you have to be in my office to sign this agreement, and the clause is this: You are going to develop 300 refineries in the country."
Malesh calculated the infrastructure load in his head.
"It would help generate employment," Leux explained, his businessman persona fully returning. "For this reason, the government would not be able to threaten us, because we are employing their people. We become untouchable."
"Okay, it is really easy," Malesh nodded, already mapping out the refinery zones in his mind. "I am going to do that."