Dante Eromonsele was good with numbers.
Too good.
That's why his partner framed him. That's why he spent three years in prison. That's why he walked out with nothing.
His phone buzzed. A text from the partner: "Sorry it had to end like this."
Dante didn't reply.
He stepped off the curb.
A car hit him.
---
He woke up coughing.
A fat man was pouring water down his throat. Dirty water. Dante pushed him away and sat up.
Wooden ceiling. Straw bed. The smell of animals.
"You're alive!" The fat man grinned. Yellow teeth. "Good. I don't lose money that easy."
Dante looked at his hands. Younger. Clean. No prison scars.
Where am I?
"Drink." The fat man pushed a cup at him. "You cost me 5 silver. You think I let slaves die for free?"
Slave.
Dante's brain clicked on. Observe. Think. Plan.
"How much to buy myself?"
The fat man laughed. "You don't buy yourself. You wait for a master—"
"5 silver." Dante cut him off. Calm voice. "You paid 5. I'll pay you back 10."
The fat man stopped laughing.
He stared at Dante's eyes. Flat. Dark. Showing nothing.
"You... you don't have 10 silver."
"Not yet." Dante stood up. Weak. But standing. "One month. I'll give you 20."
"Why would I trust a slave?"
Dante smiled. No warmth. "Because if I run, you lose 5. If I stay, you gain 20. Count the numbers."
Silence.
Then the fat man laughed. Nervous. "What's your name?"
"Dante."
"One month. You fail? I sell you to the mines."
Dante nodded.
---
That month, Dante worked.
Washed plates. Cleaned stables. Helped a merchant count goods. The merchant's boy was stealing. Dante showed proof. Got paid 2 silver.
He found a man cheating at cards. Watched. Learned. Won 5 silver from him.
He slept with animals. Ate hard bread. Drank dirty water.
Never complained.
On the 28th day, he gave the fat man 20 silver.
The fat man's eyes went wide. "How?"
"Work."
"You're not normal."
"No."
"Go. You're free."
Dante walked out with 10 silver. Followed the road.
---
The city looked beautiful from far.
Close up, it was different.
Cracked buildings. Dirty walls. Rich carriages splashing mud on hungry children. Nobles walking past beggars like they were invisible.
Dante watched everything.
A child sat against a wall. Ribs showing. Eyes empty. Three steps away, a rich man ate meat and let grease fall.
Bad management meant money hiding. Money hiding meant chances.
He found a room above a bakery. Cheap. Dirty. Straw bed. Smelled like bread.
He sat down. Counted his money.
7 silver left.
Strange world. No connections. No plan.
Most men would panic.
Dante felt calm. In Lagos, he had everything and lost it. Here, he had nothing. Nothing to lose means nothing to fear.
He went to find work.
---
The streets were full.
People shouting. Children running. Guards pushing everyone.
Then horns blew.
The crowd parted. Guards in gold marched through. Twenty of them. Then white horses. Then a litter carried by eight men. Shiny wood. Beautiful.
Inside, a young woman sat like she owned the world.
Dark skin. Sharp eyes. Bored mouth. Blue silk dress. Jewels that could feed a village.
Someone whispered: "Princess Amara. The king's daughter."
Dante watched.
She didn't look at anyone. Eyes moved over the crowd like they were nothing.
Proud. Alone. Surrounded by people who fear her.
The litter passed him.
Then—
She turned.
For one second, her eyes met his.
Something flickered in her bored face. Confusion? Interest?
Then she looked away.
But Dante saw: her hand gripped the litter tight. Knuckles white.
Interesting.
The procession moved on.
Dante walked back to his room. Sat on straw. Counted money again.
7 silver.
A strange world.
A princess who noticed him.
A kingdom rotting.
He smiled. Cold smile.
Let's see how this place works.
---
He slept.
No dreams.
Morning came. Cold air. He stood up. Reached for his money
BANG BANG BANG.
The door shook.
"Dante Eromonsele?"
Military voice.
Dante didn't move.
BANG BANG BANG. "Open. Now."
He opened the door.
Three guards in gold armor. Royal crest. Swords. Behind them, a thin man in fine robes. Sweat on his face.
The thin man stepped forward. "The accountant? The slave who bought himself?"
Dante said nothing.
"The king wants you. Now."
"Why?"
One word. Flat.
The thin man swallowed. Looked at the floor. Sweat pouring.
"Because," he whispered, "someone told His Majesty you can count."
Dante tilted his head.
Then he stepped out.
"Let's go."