Eric returned to work as if he were walking inside a nightmare.
His mind felt disconnected from reality, as though it were floating somewhere far away while his body kept moving on instinct alone. He served customers mechanically, scanned items without paying attention, handed out change without truly seeing the coins in his own hands.
Everything felt distant.
Muted.
As if he were underwater.
His legs trembled.
The weight of the gold coin in his pocket was almost unbearable—not because of its actual mass, but because of the idea that it could exist at all. With every movement, the small piece of metal seemed to drag him downward, reminding him that his life had changed in the span of a twenty-minute break.
Every time it brushed against his thigh, a chill ran up his spine.
"Is this really real?" he wondered for the tenth time.
"Or am I losing my mind?"
When his shift finally ended, Eric changed out of his uniform and into his regular clothes: a plain black T-shirt, slightly worn jeans, and a pair of brown sneakers.
The kind of outfit no one would notice.
As ordinary as he felt.
He left the store and walked down the dark street leading to his small apartment. The cold night breeze did nothing to clear his thoughts. His steps were short and tense, his hand constantly checking his pocket to make sure the coin was still there—as if it might vanish at any moment, taking his last shred of hope with it.
"Who created this system?" he thought.
"Why would anyone trade ordinary coins for gold? Pure gold. It makes no sense. What kind of insane rich person would do something like that?"
As he walked, he took the coin out once more.
Under the dim streetlight, he saw the only marking engraved on it: a large X. No official symbol. No date. Nothing that explained its origin.
"This has to be an illusion… but if it's real…"
He slipped the coin back into his pocket and took a deep breath.
He needed to find out its true value.
Or at least confirm he wasn't going insane.
When he got home, he quickly searched on his phone for nearby pawn shops. He found one just a few blocks away, still open. The reviews weren't encouraging—but for someone with nothing, there wasn't much to lose.
His chest tightened as he stepped outside again.
With every step toward the shop, his anxiety grew.
What if the coin was fake?
What if he really was losing his mind?
Or worse… what if it was all real?
When he arrived, he pushed open the glass door.
A bell chimed.
An elderly man appeared behind the counter, an unlit cigar resting between his teeth.
"What can I do for you?" the man asked, squinting to get a better look.
Eric took a deep breath and pulled the coin from his pocket.
"I'd like to sell a family heirloom," he said, trying to sound confident.
"Heirloom, huh?" the man let out a short laugh. "That's what everyone says."
He took the coin carelessly—but as soon as he adjusted his glasses and looked closer, the cigar nearly fell from his mouth.
"Where did you get this?" he asked, suddenly serious.
"Family heirloom," Eric repeated firmly. "It's pure gold."
The man frowned.
"Got any documents to prove that?"
"No… it's been in the family. I don't have anything."
The man examined the coin from every angle.
Finally, he let out a long sigh.
"I can give you about 300 euros."
Eric felt something shift inside him—like he was being cheated, and yet…
300 euros?
That would almost cover his overdue rent.
"Thanks, but I think I'll keep it," he said, reaching out to take the coin back.
The man held onto it for a second longer than he should have.
His expression had changed.
There was something close to desperation in his eyes.
"Wait," he said quickly. "I can do 500 euros."
There was urgency in his voice now—a feverish glint in his gaze.
Eric noticed.
And that only made everything more suspicious.
But 500 euros…
That was almost his entire monthly salary.
A salary that required him to work nearly until midnight every day.
And even then, it hadn't been enough to keep him in college.
Even with a scholarship, the costs had been too high.
"…I'll take it," Eric said at last.
The man visibly relaxed, quickly grabbing the cash and handing over a thick stack of bills.
"If you have another 'heirloom' like that… bring it here. I'll pay another 500."
Eric just smiled.
If only you knew…
He took the money and headed home.
At the entrance of his building, he ran into his landlord—a stern older woman with a permanently irritated expression.
"Have you been avoiding me?" she snapped.
Eric didn't argue.
He immediately handed her 300 euros.
"Sorry for the delay."
She blinked in surprise, then took the money without complaint.
"Make sure it doesn't happen again."
When she left, Eric entered his messy apartment, closed the door, and collapsed onto his bed.
Then he started searching.
Drawers. Old pants. Cans. Even empty containers.
He gathered every coin he could find and dumped them onto the white bedsheet, which now shimmered under the metallic reflections.
"What was the command again?" he muttered, almost desperate. "System… open system…?"
He tried to remember.
Then, almost like a whisper escaping on its own:
"Open Midas System."
Instantly, a blue screen appeared in the air.
Bright.
Sharp.
Real.
Eric smiled—
A smile he didn't even know he was still capable of.
He wasn't dreaming.
He wasn't insane.
He had truly found a golden goose.
No…
Something far greater.
A system that produced gold.